"You wearin' my shirt I see."

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Dammit.

Why did he have to be so freaking hot in that tee shirt?! And his hair. GODS. You wanted to run your fingers through it.

You couldn't keep your eyes off of Remy. He was wearing one of your favorite bands on a sinful crop top that he had absolutely no business wearing. In front of you.

And he looked so damned good in it.

"Where'd you get it?" You asked him, taking a plate of beignets that he made.

"Get what chérie? These good looks?" Remy winked, clasping the tongs together in a clapping motion.

You rolled your eyes, taking a bite of a beignet before your eyes settled back toward his midriff. That sexy, defined midriff.

"My eyes are up here, mon ami," he teased you.

You huffed, blushing and embarrassed from the way he was making you flustered. The way only he could make you.

"Your shirt." You said, as a matter of fact, trying to hide your annoyance.

"A thrift store." Remy shrugged.

Your eyes widened. "That shirt?! Do you know how hard it is to find that specific shirt? And you just found it? At a thrift store, no less?" You shook your head.

Remy chuckled. " They must be important or somethin'. Shoot, I mean, I don't even know the band. Just liked the design."

You playfully smacked his arm.

"Rock God ?! You don't know who Rock God is?" You looked at him in disbelief. You absolutely loved that band. Worshipped them even. Hell, you'd basically worshipped them when you were in high school.

Remy simply shook his head.

"Poser," you smirked, crossing your arms. Remy arched a brow and moved closer to you, backing you up against the kitchen counter.

He noticed the slight dusting of powdered sugar on the corner of your lip before taking his thumb ever so slowly and swiping it across your skin. You tensed for a split second. He then brought his thumb to his lips before licking the sugar clean off.

"So sweet," he teased, dangerously close to your ear before moving away from you like nothing had happened. You could feel the heat of his breath tickle you, exciting you in the littlest of ways.

You felt your body suddenly heating up at his little act of flirting. So that's how he wanted to play? Two could play that game.

Later that night, you went to check and see if Remy was in his room. After a few knocks with no answer, you proceeded inside. You knew his room had an attached bathroom, and you saw steam rising behind the closed door, meaning he was in the shower.

You also couldn't help but notice the shirt he was wearing earlier tossed carelessly on top of his bed.

Perfect.

You didn't know how long you had, but you stripped down to nothing but your underwear. You threw his shirt over your head, leaving your other clothes discarded on the floor.

It smelled so good. You inhaled the scent of him. A hint of tobacco, sandalwood, and the faint scent of beignets he made earlier lingered on the linen. It was just so incredibly Remy.

You heard some rustling in the bathroom and quickly posed on the bed before he noticed. You laid down in the usual sexy cliche pose, one hand resting on your hip as you used the other to prop your head up on one of his pillows.

What you didn't expect to see was him clad in nothing but a towel draped over his waist as he came out of the bathroom after flicking the light switch off.

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