My cheeks heated just thinking about it.
“I heard you moving around,” he explained. “Not really sure what woke me exactly.”
I pursed my lips. “It might’ve been the boots I set down. With a heavy hand.”
“Ah, yeah, that would’ve done it.”
I bit my lip and held my tongue.
He frowned. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Not, nothing. It’s something.”
“It’s no big deal, really.”
“Babe, I’ve had three hours of sleep. I’m barely conscious, but I’m not stupid enough to miss that you’re pissed at me. So tell me what it is and I’ll fix it.”
My gaze softened. “You know I love living with you.”
“Yeah.”
“You know I love when we go to bed together. You know I love when you’re out late at night, how you come home and wake me up . . .”
His grin was slow. “Yeah.”
“But I absolutely hate that you don’t pick up after yourself.”
I held my breath, waiting for him to explode.
“Ah,” he said finally. “The boots . . .”
“The random clothes strewn about. The dishes in the sink. Can you—I mean—will you try to put things in their designated spot? It’s a small apartment. And when stuff doesn’t get put away it makes it feel even smaller.”
“How long have you been waiting to say something?”
“Two days.”
He arched a brow.
“Okay, four.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you wait to explode?”
“I didn’t explode.”
“No. Not yet. But I have a feeling if you hadn’t told me today, I would’ve come home to you throwing my boots at my head.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be a nag, I just?—”
“Hey.” He sauntered toward me. Savage placed his hands on my hips and pulled me to him. “You’re not a nag. You’re asking for something that I’m not giving you. I’ll do better, babe. I promise.”
I leaned into him and pressed my face to his chest. “Thank you.”
“But you gotta do me a favor in return.”
“What’s that?”