You were trying so hard to stay annoyed at him.

Really—you were. Klaus had stolen your phone, held it above your head, and smirked like the menace he was.

“Give it back,” you huffed, jumping to grab it.

He raised it higher. “Not until you ask nicely, love.”

You glared. He grinned. Absolute stalemate.

“Fine,” you said, stepping closer, arms crossing. “Please.”

Klaus tilted his head like he was considering it, eyes already softening because you said it in that tone he could never resist.

But instead of handing it over… he tugged you toward him by the waist.

You squeaked—a tiny, surprised sound—and his smile turned absolutely sinful.

“There she is,” he murmured, brushing his nose against yours, “my adorable little troublemaker.”

You tried to shove him playfully, but he caught your wrists, pinning them gently against his chest. His heartbeat thudded under your palms.

“Klaus…” you warned.

“Yes, sweetheart?” His face was way too close. His breath fanned your lips. Your stomach flipped hard.

“You’re being annoying.”

“Mm,” he hummed, sliding one hand up your spine, “and you’re gorgeous when you pretend you don’t want to kiss me.”

You didn’t get a chance to argue—he leaned in and kissed you softly, like he was asking. Like he was testing how much sweetness you could take.