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“Ugh!” Penelope shrieked as she threw her brush in the sink.
A moment later her husband’s annoyingly handsome face and stupidly fluffy hair appeared in the bathroom mirror. “Pen? Are you okay, love?”
“Do I look okay to you?” she shot back, looking at him through the bathroom mirror, avoiding looking at the stringy stands of hair hanging from her face, that just refused to properly curl.
“You look gorgeous.” He smiled this infuriatingly charming smile as he put his arms around her waist from behind, kissing her wet, unstyled hair.
“Oh, fuck me,” she grumbled, reaching for her discarded hairbrush for another attempt to get her hair to cooperate.
“Gladly,” Colin smirked, his hands immediately travelling upwards toward her tits.
With practiced agility Penelope wound herself out of his exploring arms, putting distance between them by leaning her back against the sink, subsequently facing him and his pouting, entirely too kissable lips.
“Don’t you dare distract me, Colin Bridgerton! Do you see this?” She grabbed one of the stringy curls and dangled it in front of her face. Even though she had finger rolled it not five minutes ago it looked moderately wavy at best. “This new gel isn’t bloody holding anything! I can’t believe they seriously discontinued my old gel! I can’t ever properly do my hair again. I look like a mess!”
Colin smiled softly. “Yes, but you’re my mess.”