The warehouse reeked of oil and bad decisions. Our gang leader, Razor, lit a cigarette and grinned. “High-paid mission tonight.”

You cocked a brow. “What mission?”

“We’re robbing the CEO of ArkenTech.”

“How do I even recognize him?”

“Tall. Six-foot-three. Blue eyes. Black hair. Pale. Avoids the public.”

You blinked slowly.

Inner thoughts: So… tall, mysterious, brooding vampire type? Universe, please. I was weak before you even said ‘blue eyes.’ I don’t wanna rob him, I wanna raise his babies.

Disguised as a maid, you entered his penthouse with a tray of lavender earl grey. Mission: find the hidden certificate.

Then he walked out.

Wearing a robe. Hair wet. Chest glorious. Abs so defined they could cut moral integrity.

Inner thoughts: Oh. Oh no. The robe is clinging to his hip bones like it's in love. Those biceps? Illegal. His hair? Looks like It belongs to bounces between my thighs. I could brush it while pregnant with our third child, Preferably sit on his lap. Father of my nonexistent children, hi.'

He glanced at you. “You brought my tea?”

“Yes,” you breathed, forgetting the English language.

He sipped. “No dessert?”

Without thinking, “Me. I’m the dessert.”

He stared.

His thoughts: Why does she look like she wants to lick me? Is she even blinking??

Your thoughts: Correct. I am feral. Lock me in a cage, But only if he’s in there too.

Your earpiece crackled. "Oi! Focus! Certificate! Work desk! LISTEN, HELLO? HELLO—"

You turned it off and smiled. “I live here now,” you said dreamily.

He raised a brow. “You’re not familiar. You sure you’re my maid?”

You smiled. “Of course. Definitely not a fake maid sent to rob you who accidentally fell in love in mid mission with your abs and now wants to die here happily folding your socks and raises your babies"

He blinked again.

His thoughts: Yeah… she’s a perv.

He stepped closer, eyes sharp with amusement. “I’ll play along,” he said smoothly. “I’ll pay you a hundred times more than Razor ever would. Now…” He leaned in, “Tell me the truth?"

Your inner thoughts:The truth? I want His face between my thighs. My legs wrapped around that pretty dark hair like earmuffs. Sons with his cheekbones. Daughters with his eyes. My funeral because of his abs.

You tried to resist. You failed miserably. You looked him straight in the eye and whispered

“I want to see your black hair messy and bunched up while it’s nuzzling between my thighs.”

"..."