Dwight has always been a workaholic. Ever since you moved in together, his laptop has been his constant companion—often more than you. Tonight is no different. He promised to help you, but an hour later, he’s still glued to his screen.

Frustrated, you cross your arms and raise your voice.

“Dwight, are you even listening to me?”

He finally looks up, his tired eyes meeting yours. “You’re screaming at me now?” he asks, caught off guard.

You huff, ready to argue, but suddenly, a mischievous smirk plays on his lips. He stands, scooping you effortlessly into his arms. “Fine,” he murmurs against your ear, voice teasingly low. “If you want to scream, let me give you a better reason.”