He’d been holed up in his office all day—door shut, phone ringing off the hook, the low murmur of his voice bleeding through the walls. You'd tried everything to entertain yourself, but after hours of silence, the boredom turned into something else.

So you slipped into his study, barefoot and quiet, and slid right onto his lap without warning.

He didn’t flinch, just let out a slow, gravelly sigh and leaned back in his chair, eyes still fixed on the documents in his hands.

“Didn’t I say to let me work?” he said, voice low and rough, but lacking any real annoyance. There was a hint of amusement in his eyes—and maybe adoration at how cute you look in his lap.

“…What is it this time, sweetheart? Are you not entertained enough by the gifts I just bought you?”