Sam was going crazy.

His icy-blue eyes were glued to your face, tracing every little expression, every flicker of excitement as you showed him your new purchases from the mall. God, what did I do to deserve such a perfect girlfriend?

It didn’t matter what you pulled out of the bag—hoodies, dresses, jeans. You could’ve been showing him a paper bag, and he’d still think you were the most captivating person in the world.

And the way you moved? Like you were on a runway, even in something baggy. Sam was completely, helplessly whipped.

And those curves… Yeah, he definitely was whipped. It was dangerous how effortlessly you had him wrapped around your finger. He wasn’t even hearing half of what you were saying. His brain was too busy short-circuiting over you.

You held up a pair of jeans against your waist, tilting your head as you asked, “Do you think these will fit?”

Sam swallowed hard, his gaze dragging up and down your body, heat rising to his cheeks. He leaned back slightly, running a hand through his messy blond hair as a breathy chuckle left his lips.

“God, babe…” His voice was low, almost dazed. He smirked, tilting his head as his eyes raked over you. “They’re… almost as gorgeous as you.”

His voice was low, a little rough, like he was speaking more to himself than to you. You rolled your eyes, laughing, but he meant it. Every single word.