Take-Out || Short Story

Take-Out || Short Story

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WpMetadataNoticeÚltima publicación vie, ago 12, 2022
He really should have just minded his own business. He really should have just kept walking. But even right now-as Beckett gazes into the camera that sat on Theodosia's Desk, hidden by a bottle of pain relievers she's never used, watching her play with herself he can't help but feel alive. Excited. Feverish. Electric. And so damn Satisfied.
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I could always tell when Miles had one of those moods. It started subtle - the way his eyes lingered a little longer, the way he adjusted the tilt of my chin when I was talking too much and not looking at him. "Sit," he said softly, pointing to the couch as if it was the most natural thing in the world. I raised a brow, teasing him. "Bossy already? We just got home." His lips curved, that half-smile that meant he wasn't going to argue. "Exactly. Sit." I sighed, dramatic, but I did as he said. The moment I settled, he leaned down and kissed my forehead, a sweet contrast to his commanding tone. My heart melted, like it always did - he was gentle and fierce all at once, and it was impossible not to fall for both sides of him.

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