"Does this mean my probation is going well?" he asked softly, a tiny, hopeful smirk touching his lips.
Mailah let out a breathless laugh. She reached out, grabbing the collar of his t-shirt, and pulled him down toward her.
"It means," Mailah whispered against his lips, "that you get to carry me upstairs. But do not get any ideas, demon boy. You are sleeping on the couch."
Grayson blinked, his hands pausing on her waist. "The couch?"
"The very same," Mailah said, tapping his chest with a sharp index finger. "Did you really think one good meal and a leg massage completely erased four weeks of radio silence? You broke my trust, Grayson. Bed privileges are earned, not granted on day one of probation."
Grayson looked down at her, taking in the stubborn tilt of her chin and the resolute sparkle in her eyes. Instead of arguing or looking put out, a low, quiet laugh rumbled in his chest. A look of deep, hopeless affection settled over his sharp features.
