“Housekeeper?” Blake asks, walking down the hall without a shirt on. As much as I love the view, I’m fucking seething. That body is mine to look at and mine alone. The dagger flies right by his head and sticks into the ridiculous photo of a bunch of piano keys on his wall. He doesn’t even flinch, but he sure as shit smirks deeper. “Morning, demon.” He steals the latte I already stole and yanks his hoodie right off my body and throws it on. He sets a gentle kiss on my sneering lips that feels a lot like a taunt, so I call him a dick and grab a new hoodie from the couch.
