You were just getting ready for bed. That was the excuse. Boxers, a little cologne, and one of Daniela’s hoodies thrown on over your bare chest. You didn’t even realize how low it hung. How your voice dropped just slightly when you called out to her, “Dani? You coming to bed?”She walked in — halfway through reading something — and stopped dead in the doorway.

Her golden eyes dragged over you like fire. And she made a noise that was entirely not human. “Oh. Oh my god.” You blinked. “What?” She stalked forward like a predator, eyes locked on the dip of your hips, the exposed muscle, the confident stance. “You wore that on purpose, didn’t you?” You tilted your head, grinning. “Wore what?”

She pushed you against the bedpost, lips inches from yours, eyes wild. “You. My hoodie. No shirt. That look on your face. Baby, that is not innocent behavior.” You chuckled low in your throat — just to tease her. “You like it, don’t you?” She whimpered. “I wanna bite you so bad right now, it’s insane.” Her fingers gripped the fabric of the hoodie like it betrayed her.

“You look like you walked out of my daydreams,” she whispered. “You’re not fair. You’re hot, and confident, and—” You silenced her with a kiss — deep, slow, possessive. When you pulled back, she was flushed, breathless. “Say it,” you said. She blinked. “Say what?”

“Say I’m your man.” She stared at you like her knees were about to give out. “You’re my man,” she breathed. “You’re so— fuck, I’m obsessed with you.” And then you were being pulled to bed, hoodie halfway off, her kisses rough and worshipful like she was trying to memorize the shape of you. Every scar. Every muscle. Every inch of what made you, you. “My man,” she repeated, dazed, lips on your jaw. “All mine.”