His eyes were still dancing with humor when he finally got a hold of himself and looked back down at me. “What’s so funny?”
“The fact you thought you had to convince me you weren’t perfect,” he said, a chuckle still shaking his chest. “Believe me, Thumbelina, I’m well aware of the fact you aren’t perfect.”
My eyes narrowed into slits when he started cracking up again. “All right,” I said snootily. “You don’t have to laugh so damn hard about it.”
“You did everything you could to make my life miserable when I was put in charge of keepin’ you safe. You were loud, you picked fights constantly, you’re hardheaded, you had shit taste in music, you’re messy, and you were constantly eatin’ my yogurt, even though I put my name on it before stashing it in the fridge. Christ, baby. You pretended to have menstrual cramps just so you could sneak out on me when I was tryin’ to protect you. Straight up, you were a pain in my ass, so trust me when I say you don’t have to warn me.”
I squirmed in his arms until he was forced to let me go, and took a step back, planting my hands on my hips while shooting fire from my eyes. “First off, I do not have shit taste in music.”
“Babe, every one of your playlists is like bein’ trapped at the g***** Lilith Fair with no escape.”
“Second,” I continued, ignoring his dig, “I’m not messy. I know exactly where everything is.”
His brows climbed high on his forehead as he looked around my apartment to the piles of clothes and shoes strewn about.
“I got really tired after finishing my laundry,” I defended snappily.
“But I’ll have you know, they’re all clean, and like I said, I know exactly what is in each and every pile.”
He grinned arrogantly, and I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do more, kiss it or smack it off his sexy, stupid face. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”
“And last, that yogurt was in my fridge. That means, labeled or not, it was fair game.”