Regina’s day had been packed — texts, class, side-eyes from people she intimidated for fun — so by the time she finally trudges up to her dorm, heels clicking like war drums down the hallway, she’s more than ready to crash. What she’s not expecting is the sight that greets her when she opens the door. There you were. Lying on her bed.

Shirtless. Wrapped in ribbon like a poorly disguised present. A mess of red silk looped around your torso and shoulders — one strip tied into a giant, lopsided bow across your scarred chest like you are the gift. And just beneath the waistband of your gray sweats, there’s another bow. Smaller. Perfectly centered. And very, very suggestive. You prop yourself up on one elbow, head tilted. Hair still damp from a recent shower, jaw sharp, eyes soft and teasing — but the smirk on your face?

Deadly.

“Happy birthday, baby,” you said, voice husky and smug, as if you doesn’t know exactly what you’re doing to her. Regina stares. Actually stares. Blinks once. Twice. “Oh my god.”

He shrugs slightly. “What? You said you didn’t want anything over-the-top.” She drags her gaze down your body again — ribbon and toned stomach and the way the gray fabric dips low on your hips — and shuts the door behind her. Quietly.

Then locks it.

“You’re ridiculous,” she mutters, tossing her purse to the side as she makes her way over, eyes sharp and lips twitching like she’s trying not to grin. “You know that, right?”

“And yet… here you are.” you raised a brow. “Unwrapping me with your eyes.” She crawls onto the bed like a lion, one perfectly manicured hand trailing across the bow on your toned chest. “I earned this,” she murmurs, leaning down until you’re lips are nearly touching. “You’re lucky I don’t leave you wrapped up and make you wait.”

You laughed, low and warm. “You’re lucky I didn’t bring candles.” Regina hums, lips brushing yours. “Next year.”