Sophie exclaimed, her voice laced with anger as she swung the door to Mike's room open without a knock.
Mike, just emerging from the steamy confines of his bathroom, stood frozen in the doorway. A towel was hastily tied around his waist, accentuating his sculpted chest and defined abs. His initial shock gave way to irritation at the breach of privacy, ready to confront whoever had dared to enter uninvited.
But as Sophie's familiar voice filled the air, her petite figure framed by the doorway, his expression softened into a smile. He had been about to let that towel drop when Sophie promptly turned her back, clearly white-knuckling her anger.
Mike stood there naked, captivated by the petite figure before him. He had never truly examined her features until now, but today his gaze lingered on every detail. Her very pronounced curves even in her pajamas,Her dark hair was styled into a bun, though it had become disheveled from sleep, with soft tendrils escaping to frame her face. He also noticed a scar that appeared to be big behind her neck but he couldn't see it much cause her pjs were covering the rest of it he thought about the scar and where she could've gotten it for a split second .There was still a hint of sleep in her bright amber eyes, which were now wide open and glinting with a spark of anger as she entered the room.
To Mike, she was undeniably pretty; she had all the qualities a man could desire in a woman: grace, intelligence, and an unmistakable charm. Yet, ironically, she harbored a strong dislike for him. He found himself drawn to her even more in her moments of frustration, thinking she looked particularly striking when she was upset, her emotions adding a fierce beauty to her appearance. In that moment, he couldn't help but admire the contrast between her delicate frame and the intensity of her feelings.
"What are my things doing in your room?" she repeated, the tension tangible as she faced away from his naked self, her body language signaling her discontent.
Smirking slightly, Mike replied while pulling on a shirt, "I asked Mrs. Mac to bring them over. And you can turn around, you know we're married, right?"
"Why would you bring my things to your room without my permission?" Sophie pressed on, ignoring the last part of his response, her tone still firm as she maintained her stance.
"Well," Mike said, his voice lightening with a hint of mischief, "as husband and wife, we're supposed to share the same space—and the same bed." He stepped closer, one brow raised, challenging her to reconsider her irritation.
"You must be joking if you think I would ever lie down on that bed with you, the same bed you sleep with all kinds of women on"
"Oh, my darling wife" Mike started "you have a problem with me fucking other cunts that aren't yours huh?"
"You disgust me!" Sophie turned around and sneered at Mike in the face while speaking.
As Mike moved closer to Sophie, he gently brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. His warm smile danced in the soft light as he leaned in, his breath brushing against her skin. "Come on," he whispered playfully, a hint of mischief in his voice. "I know you want me. Stop being stubborn, and let's have some fun." The flirtation hung in the air between them.
"Take your filthy hands off me!" Sophie asserted firmly as she attempted to create distance. When he did not yield, she sought an alternative method to retrieve her belongings and began to remove them from their location in his room.
"What are you doing?" Mike asked, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his voice a mixture of frustration and concern as he observed the petite woman frantically packing her suitcase.
Sophie, her brow furrowed in determination, ignored him, hastily cramming clothes—colorful dresses, wrinkled T-shirts, and a collection of mismatched socks—into the case.
"You can't keep doing this," he insisted, his voice rising slightly, a hint of exasperation creeping in. "We're married; we need to act like it." Despite his earnest plea, she remained unfazed, her focus unyielding.
With a resigned sigh, Mike stepped closer, kneeling to fold her garments with careful precision,yet Sophie's irritation only deepened as he touched her belongings.
"I didn't ask for your help," Sophie shot back, her tone sharp enough to cut through the tension in the room. The irritation simmered in her voice, revealing the tempest of emotions beneath the surface.
Unfazed by her hostility, Mike was all too aware that her stubbornness often masked deeper feelings of hurt and confusion. As Sophie began to organize her possessions, a sense of disarray filled the space around them, creating a palpable distance between husband and wife.
As the evening shadows lengthened and the soft hum of crickets filled the air, Sophie finally succumbed to exhaustion, her body sinking into the inviting warmth of her bed. The gentle embrace of the night wrapped around her like a comforting blanket. However, her peaceful slumber was abruptly disrupted by a sharp knock on the door that echoed through the quiet room.
Frowning, Sophie pulled the covers from her face, groggy and disoriented. Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she padded across the tiled floor, its coolness sending a shiver up her spine. "Who's there?" she demanded, her voice laced with irritation.
"Your husband," Mike replied from the other side, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he contemplated the surprise he was about to unleash.
"What do you want?" Sophie retorted, yanking the door open, her fierce expression confronting him like a storm brewing on the horizon.
Without giving her a chance to protest further, Mike hoisted her effortlessly onto his shoulder, her body flailing helplessly as she called out in vain, "Drop me down! Drop me down!" The weight of her protests barely registered in his mind as he secured her around the waist, his grip firm and almost possessive, carrying her into her room with swift determination.
As Mike stepped across the threshold, he paused to take in his surroundings; this was the first time he had entered her sanctuary since she had moved in just a week prior. He couldn't help but admire the transformation she had wrought: twinkling fairy lights contrasted against the pastel walls, an array of photographs capturing fleeting moments of joy, and the scent of lavender wafting through the air. "Impressive," he mused aloud, the hint of admiration in his voice forming a curious juxtaposition with the chaos of the moment.
He gently lowered Sophie onto her bed, the soft comforter crumpling under her weight, and leaned closer, a playful glint in his eye. "I'm here for a sleepover, dear wife."
Sophie recoiled, pushing against him with all the force she could muster. "Get off me! You're not sleeping here!"
"I am," Mike responded, a teasing smile dancing across his lips as he relished her reaction. "Unless you would prefer to have a chat with our parents."
Sophie's resolve was unwavering. "I hate you so much. I'll sleep on the floor while you take the bed!" Her voice was firm, like a declaration of war.
Mike shook his head, amusement flickering in his blue eyes. "No, we will share the bed."
"Absolutely Not!" she shot back defiantly, her determination solid as stone.
"I could easily call your father right now," Mike countered, raising his phone theatrically as if it were a trump card, his playful grin unwavering.
"Fine, but keep your distance. I mean it," Sophie retorted, using her pillows to erect a makeshift barrier between them. Her heart raced at the prospect of sharing a bed with someone she detested, yet the lingering fear of Mike following through with his threat loomed over her like a dark cloud. As she nestled into her fortress of pillows, she began to plot a quiet escape into the living room once she was certain he was fast asleep.
"You wish!" Mike replied with a cheeky grin, a spark of mischief still glimmering in his eye.