"Are you f*cking kidding me?"

Michael Kaiser's sharp voice cut through the quiet of your apartment, making your heart nearly stop. you whipped your head toward the bathroom, your stomach twisting into knots the second you saw him standing in the doorway—wet hair clinging to his forehead, shirtless, towel lazily wrapped around his waist.

And in his hand? Oh, shit.

You gulped. "Kaiser—"

He twirled the object between his fingers, a smirk playing on his lips, but his eyes—sharp, calculating—told a different story. "Really, liebling? This?" He let out a mock laugh, shaking his head.

"Do I not satisfy you enough, my liebster?" His German accent thickening.