Miller
"It's big on me," Leo pouted, looking down at himself. He was wearing my black hoodie and the jeans he'd arrived in last night.
I'd washed and dried them while he was still asleep.
The sleeves swallowed his hands, and the hem fell almost to mid-thigh.
"I look so small in this," he complained, lifting his hands.
"I know," I said, stepping closer to adjust the collar. "I like it. It looks good on you. Makes me feel like you're really mine."
He scoffed.
"Come on, babe." I leaned down and kissed him. "You look cute. Very, very cute."
He rolled his eyes and folded his arms, pretending to be mad.
"Come on, babe, we're going to be late," I said, then slapped his ass on the way out.
"Miller!" he yelled.
I chuckled as I rushed out of the house.
We left together, taking my Aston Martin out of the garage.
The city streets were still wet from the rain, the remains glistening under the morning sun.
