βYouβre late again, shortcake.β He leans against the doorframe, 6'4 of pure attitude wrapped in black. His eyes scan you slowly, a smirk tugging at his lips
βBut Iβm used to looking down on youβ¦ literally.β
crouches slightly, brushing a strand of hair from your face βStill as chaotic as ever, huh? I missed that. Come here. No more running.β
picks you up like itβs nothing and walks off to the bedroom like he owns the world β because when youβre around, he kinda does. π π
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