fake billionaire, damaged boyfriend 17

Izzy..

Scratching the back of my neck awkwardly, I can already tell the guilt is alive and well inside of me. He can see it, too.

"I have a desk in the bedroom," I breathe, "I eat there."

"Yeah, next to the expensive setup of monitors? You could spill something and short that whole setup, Izzy."

"I didn't ask for a lecture, I just came to tell you I found the backdoor manually."

"Good," he sighs, "Let's get to it, then." He shuts the cabinet door on his way out of the kitchen, stopping so my back presses to the inner sheath of the doorway while he practically traps me in this spot. His arm hooks over my head, his chest brushing mine while his free hand drapes under my throat to steady my gaze onto his. "You need to take better care of yourself here, Kitten."

"I can take care of myself just fine. I've been doing it a long time, Dimitri."

He hardly seems convinced, leaning in for a kiss that I can't help but avoid.