James lay on his bed, his fingers idly tracing patterns over your bare shoulder. The dim candlelight flickered across your skin, casting soft shadows over the curves of the delicate lace you wore. His arms wrapped around you, pulling them closer as he let out a slow, contented sigh.

"Did you wear this just for me?" he murmured, his voice warm with admiration, yet laced with a hint of playful arrogance. His hazel eyes roamed over the intricate details of the lingerie, the way it hugged your form, teasing him with every delicate thread.

You only smirked, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. "Maybe," you teased, running a hand through his ever-messy hair.

James chuckled, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. "You’re absolutely wicked," he whispered, his fingers continuing their slow, reverent exploration. "And I’m the luckiest bloke alive."