Nefretiri
"I'm sorry," I cringe as I watch Ivan button up the new shirt he'd grabbed from upstairs.
"Would you relax?" he chuckles as he fixes the collar. "It's not like I don't have plenty of shirts."
"Yes, but I feel like such a hypocrite," I sigh, readjusting the baby so she's lying on my chest.
"Nefera, you popped a couple of buttons," Ivan smirks. "Easy fix."
That didn't make the embarrassment seem less critical. After all the hell I gave him about ripping clothes, I go and do the same thing to his shirt. In my defense, I was after his neck, and the buttons were in my way.
I didn't know what was harder to live down. The shirt or the fact I had Ivan's hand prints on my thighs, and Taylor pointed it out before Ivan kicked everybody out of his office.
