Page 136 of Bitter When He Begs

Yeah. I could definitely get used to this.

When I follow him into the shower a few minutes later, he just sighs dramatically and makes room for me under the spray. I’dbe offended at the lack of reaction, but I already know he’s soft for me. He just refuses to admit it.

The water is hot, steam curling around us, and it should probably be sexual. It should be another excuse for me to put my hands on him, but we just… exist.

Sage stands in front of me while my arms wrap around his waist, and my chin rests on his shoulder. It’s quiet, intimate, and fuck, it’s something I never thought I’d want with anyone.

But I do. I really fucking do.

By the time we’re out and towel-dried, Sage steals another one of my shirts, and I just watch him from where I’m leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, smirking as he pulls it over his head.

“You don’t even ask anymore,” I point out

“When did I ever ask?” he says, raising an eyebrow. “You like me in your clothes.”

He’s not wrong, and he knows it. I exhale through my nose, tilting my head as I drink him in. My shirt hangs loose on him, not quite oversized but close, the hem brushing the waistband of his jeans, the fabric clinging to his shoulders in a way that makes my mouth dry.

“I hate how fucking good you look in my clothes,” I mutter.

His grin widens like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. “That sounds like a you problem, King.”

I groan, dragging a hand down my face. “You enjoy making my life difficult, don’t you?”

“Immensely.”

I walk toward him, grab him by the waist and toss him onto the bed, making him laugh as I hover over him, pinning him down with my body weight. “Brat.”

“Possessive asshole,” he counters, still grinning.

I smirk. “You love it.”

His eyes flicker, something warm settling in his expression before he finally rolls his eyes. “Maybe.”

I kiss him slowly, savoring the way he melts into me before I force myself to pull back. “C’mon, Sunshine,” I say, pushing up and offering my hand. “Let’s go eat before the guys start bitching that I’m hoarding you upstairs.”

He grumbles something under his breath but takes my hand anyway, letting me drag him toward the stairs.

The kitchen is chaotic as usual.

Eli and Julian are arguing over eggs—one of them must’ve fucked up the batch—while Roman is attempting to drink straight from the orange juice carton, only for Damon to snatch it out of his hands and call him a “feral fucking goblin.”

Thorn and Killian are in a heated debate about something hockey-related, Damien is scrolling through his phone while talking to Liam, and Adrian and Ryan are deep in conversation about a game from last night.

It’s loud, it’s unfiltered, and it’s normal.

And no one—no one—acts like they’re walking on eggshells around me anymore.

I exhale, nudging Sage toward the counter before making a beeline for the coffee pot.

“Oh shit,” Julian whistles, finally noticing us. “Look who finally decided to join the living.”

I flip him off as I pour myself a mug.

Roman grins from his spot at the table, looking way too smug as he pulls Sage into a headlock. “My favorite person in this house!”

Sage laughs, shoving at his chest. “Roman.”

“What?” Roman smirks. “It’s true.”

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