𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐞 ✔️

chapter twenty three - weak

LEILA

"What?" I breathe out, being careful not to touch it. How is he not in pain? Doesn't a tattoo hurt?

"Do you like it?" He asks, examining my face as I study the tattoo.

"I love it." I mutter, still having my eyes plastered on the tattoo. He did do that.

"Is that what you did? The thing that was 'so' important?" I drag out on the word 'so' to make him roll his eyes.

God, I can't stop talking about his eyes. They're just so fucking gorgeous.

"Yeah, this was really important, mi amor." He states, rubbing my thighs. I'm also weirdly obsessed with his hands.

They're just so fucking attractive like damn, the veins. The same goes for his- No, stop.

"Why would you do that?"

"Why wouldn't I?" He says, now squeezing my thighs.

"Greyson."

"My love." I'm melting for the nicknames. I'm obsessed, so obsessed.

"Why would you do that?" I repeat, waiting for a real answer this time. He sighs and stare into my eyes.

"Because I love you. I want to be with you. This thing between you and I, I haven't had a thing like this before. I never thought I'd be a boyfriend to someone. I pictured my life alone until you came into it. You've had me wrapped around your finger since you got here. You just never realised it." He says, slithering his arms around my waist and pulling me impossibly close to him.

"Now, let's finished what we've started." He says before smashing his lips onto mine.

I'm guessing my legs will be sore tomorrow.

- - -

I was right.

My legs are still shaking after yesterday. But damn, that felt good.

I'm sitting on the floor with my mirror in front of me, curling my hair because why not? I have nothing else to do. Greyson's sleeping so he can't keep me busy.

He kept me busy last night tho- What the actual fuck, Leila.

"Leila." Greyson groans, hearing him move in his bed.

"Down here." I say, continuing to curl my hair. My hair looks better wavy but what ever, I wanted to curl it so I bet you I damn will.

A head pops up in the mirror and I look up on the reflection, meeting his stare.

"You're gorgeous. I love when your hair is curly." He says, resting his chin on his hands.

"Thank you." I smile.

"I think you should do it more often." He retorts, laying still in his position. He looks so comfortable.

"It takes up so much time, though." I say, mentally screaming 'cause I still have like a third of hair left to curl.

"How long have you been sitting there?" He asks, showing off his smile.

Just like his mother's.

"Half an hour."

"That's why I'm happy I have short hair." He raises from his previous position and hops off his bed. I keep my eyes on the curling iron in my hands.

Greyson takes a seat behind me, snaking his arm around my waist and putting his head in the crook of my neck, opposite side from where I'm having the curling iron so he won't burn himself.