Presley came into the bedroom wearing a towel wrapped around her body and ignored the way the man who was looking at his computer screen suddenly looked up and groaned loudly.
“Damn, Ladybird, you are beautiful all wet.”
“I know.” She retorted and grabbed her makeup bag and headed back to the bathroom. It felt incredibly light, and she opened and turned to him furiously. “Where is my make-up?”
“You don’t need it.”
“You have got to be kidding me!”
“No. I left your face cleaners and moisturizers and s**t, but you don’t need to hide your freckles and,” he ducked as she whipped a container of her moisturizer across the room, and it bounced off the wall over his head. “Why do you always resort to violence? Stop throwing s**t!”
“Get my make up back!”
“No.”
A furious squeal ripped from he
