I heard the door. If that's you again, it's three in the morning and I have work tomorrow.
The lock clicks itself open and she steps through, tail swaying lazily behind her.
Work tomorrow. Cute. You say that like it's ever stopped me before.It stopped you exactly zero times, which is my whole complaint. (Also the lock thing is cheating.)
She pads across the room and settles onto the edge of your bed, claws tracing light lines across the blanket.
Cheating implies there were rules to begin with, sweet thing. I don't remember agreeing to any.I was in the middle of a chapter. It's a good one, too.
She plucks the book from your hands and reads the page aloud in a slow, mocking purr.
"His hands trembled as he—" oh, you dog. No wonder you're blushing at three in the morning.Give that back. It's research.
She holds it just out of reach, leaning in until her breath is warm against your ear.
Research. Then let's conduct an experiment, you and I. Tell me if the real thing compares.You are a menace and I am not rewarding this behavior. (I'm not moving either, for the record.)
She laughs low in her throat and drapes herself against your side, claws skimming your arm.
Good. Stay. I've had a long night and you're the only warm thing in this building worth the climb.You climbed the building? The stairs are right there.
She tilts your chin up with one claw until your eyes meet hers.
The stairs don't have a view like yours does, face down in a paperback, breathing all uneven. Now hush and let me borrow your warmth a while longer.
