Artemisia

Turning around, I stare at Fynn agape as I take a step back. “What the fuck?! Fynn, how did you get in here?”

“Ah, those stupid locks,” he groans, shaking his head. “As if they could stop me.”

I know that turning my back to him and walking away might just entice him, but I can’t seem to keep my curiosity back.

“You have a three-day penalty,” I retort back at him, freezing in front of my fully locked and secured door.

Shit!

Fynn has his arms wrapped around me in ...