Reject My Alpha President
I brush the hair off his forehead and plant a kiss there, marveling as I always do at how much he looks like his father when he sleeps.
Arthur and I tiptoe out, leaving his door cracked just enough that we’ll hear if he wakes up in the middle of the night.
“Want to stargaze?” Arthur asks softly.
I nod, and we make our way back outside. The night has grown chilly, so Arthur grabs a blanket from the living room. We settle onto the porch swing, the blanket wrapped around our shoulders, my head resting against him as we gaze up at the star-strewn sky.
Without the light pollution of the city, the stars are breathtaking—countless glittering points of light against an inky black darkness. I spot Or
Bab Populer