Sara Michaels
“You’re staring again.” I said, shyly. Even though I enjoyed it.
“I’m not,” I said quickly, shifting my gaze away from him and toward the oversized couch across the room. It looked impossibly soft, layered with too many pillows to count, like something out of a magazine spread.
Kingsley followed my line of sight and smirked. “You’re judging my pillows now?”
“I’m wondering if you actually use them or if they’re just for decoration,” I replied, walking over and pressing one lightly with my hand. It sank under my touch, soft enough to make me pause. “Okay… these are dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” he echoed, amused.
“Yes. Sit here for five minutes and you won’t get up again.”
“That’s the point,” he said, loosening his cuffs as he walked toward me. “Comfort is underrated.”
I rai
