“No more snowsuits. Or Alec’s T-shirts,” Cole says gruffly. He frowns, pulling her hair to the side, giving more room for the cloth to run over her skin. “You’ll go through my closet. Take what you want.” I’m not the only one that glances at him. Mr. I probably get my underwear pressed is letting her rifle through his shit and take what she wants. Yeah, we like her.
