My Personal Firecracker

Bastian's P.O.V.

Beatrix's movements were jerky, fast, and angry as she shoved more clothes into her bag. I knew she wasn't mad about moving in; she had been excited about it. She was happy when I told her it was time to live together.

Now she was angry, and she was so fucking beautiful when she was angry. She was my personal firecracker. I would never get enough of her.

Beatrix glanced around