"What exactly did my clothes do wrong that they had to face your wrath?" He asks as soon as he walks out of the closet. I quickly notice that he's wearing a matching outfit with me, only it looks much more better on him. I was thinking he might look at least a little bit stupid in casual clothes. But even in joggers and a sweatshirt, and his hair let loose over his shoulders, he looks like a king. He really doesn't need a crown, this man.
Whatever he's wearing, he'll stand out. I quickly avert my gaze from his to stop the rush of blood racing to my face. "I don't know what you're talking about." I simply shrug.
I can feel his gaze on my back. And seriously, just knowing he's staring at me is enough to start that rush of blood. A light chuckle follows my words, "Of course you don't." He says. "My clothes happened to just rearrange themselves." He's moved closer to me. I can feel him behind me.
