Matt Graver was a lot of things: a CIA operative, a trained killer, an expert marksman, and a ruthless bastard when he needed to be. Both agents and military alike had witnessed the abrupt playfulness that he could have on the field, only to be replaced by a stone cold, calculating stare. He could be charming, but in the same breath, could be utterly cruel.

And right now, he looked like a spoiled kid in a candy store.

A wide grin stretched across his face as he looked at the display in front of him, watching carefully with childlike amusement. It seemed like hundreds of opened boxes were sprawled across the wooden floor of the bedroom, the contents overflowing from the packaging and scattered in a haphazard mess. Clothes, shoes, accessories, all fairly pricey.

"Turn around for me again, baby. Slowly." He ordered, resting a closed fist against his cheek as he shifted his body against the rich leather of the chair, the wood creaking quietly underneath him.

While Matt's closet was practically a barren wasteland - filled with a few fading T-shirts, some worn-out cargo pants, and the flip-flops and crocs that he would shamelessly wear to the office - your side was a completely different story. His credit card was always in his back pocket, ready to be swiped for anything and everything you wanted.

He loved spoiling you. Reveled in it, even.