The sewing machine buzzes under my hands as I carefully attach another flower to my gown. I reach for a pin, and Damon hands it to me, not bothering to look up from his laptop. His legs are folded pretzel-like beneath him as he sits on the floor at my side. “You know, you really don’t have to do this,” I say, taking the pin from him. He’s wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, his casual appearance almost as attractive as his suits. All I want to do is curl up in his lap and let his warmth seep into my bones. “You wouldn’t let me buy you a dress” is his only response. “That’s because I like to
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I love domestic shi 🥰
