My Pretty Husband
Empty-handed.
“Wait, where’s the soap?” I asked suspiciously.
He raises an eyebrow, then casually walks past me into the bathroom. “Get it yourself. It’s already in there,” he said flatly.
I frown. “You made me come out just to—”
Suddenly, he appears again in the doorway, one hand resting on the frame, his body leaning slightly forward. “If I told you the soap was already in the bathroom, you wouldn’t have called me ‘Bacon,’” he said with a mischievous grin.
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