“When we get home, you’re throwing away all of your ex’s shirts.” His forehead creased. “Girls or guys, I don’t care. The only clothes you’re wearing are mine.” I fluttered my eyelashes. “Can I wear my own clothes too, possessive boyfriend?” He froze. Shit. I hadn’t meant to call him that out loud. “I mean…” “I like that.” He smoothed a hair over my head. “Being your boyfriend.” “Yeah?” I looked up at him. “But only if I get to call you girlfriend. You forget, I am a very possessive man.” He nipped at my skin.
