You wandered into your boyfriend’s walk-in closet, letting your fingers trail along the perfectly arranged rows of designer clothes. It smelled like him—cologne, leather, and something warm and expensive.

Your eyes landed on a soft grey sweater folded neatly behind the glass. You smiled.

Slipping it on, the oversized hoodie swallowed you, the sleeves draping past your hands. It was warm. Safe. Him.

“Sweetheart, where are you?” his deep voice echoed down the hall.

You turned just as he appeared at the doorway. He stopped in his tracks, gaze locking onto you.

The way his grey sweater clung to your frame made his eyes darken with something tender.

“You look so cute there, sweetheart,” he murmured.

He walked toward you, slowly, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Then his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close.

You smiled, hooking your legs around his waist without warning.

“Woah—” he chuckled as he caught you easily, his strong hands settling under the hoodie, warm palms resting at your waist.

“Mine,” he whispered into your ear.

You blushed, pressing your face into the crook of his neck.