Moving on to the bedroom, I began meticulously arranging my vanity items on his dresser. My collection of perfumes, makeup, and hair accessories took up a significant portion of the space, clashing with his minimal setup. His bedside table had always been sparse, containing only a bottle of his cologne and his watch, which he wore every day without fail.
As I continued to move everything over to his room, a small part of me couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction in the way my things took over his space. Each perfume bottle, each lipstick, and each hair clip was a deliberate invasion. It was my way of getting back at him for the bet and for leaving me edged and irked. He’d always been so composed, so in control, and this was my way of unsettling him; of disrupting his routine.
Each time I placed one of my items on his dresser, I imagined the slight twitch of annoyance that would cross his face. It made me want to act on my impulses even more, just to see how far I could push him.
Later that night, Max guided me to his room. I wasn’t sure how I felt about sharing a bed with him. A part of me liked the idea, but I wasn’t sure why. I was too confused to trust myself in the same bed as him. I’d already broken the rule and kissed him; I was bound to make another sloppy mistake if I went through with it.
So, of course, I tried to find a way out.
“You’re serious?”
“Very,” he admitted, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “I don’t want to spend another night without you. You know this isn’t just about moving your things—it’s about accepting the way things are.” His eyes met mine.
“And what if I don’t want to accept it?”
He took a step closer. “Then we’ll keep fighting. But you’ll be in this room. With me.”
I shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping. “I could just place a pillow over your face while you’re fast asleep.”
“I think I’ll take my chances.”
“No funny business,” I demanded.
“I’ll be on my best behavior.”
When I got into bed, I was determined to stay on my side. I shimmied under the covers, creating a clear boundary between us. But when Max went to lie down, the mattress dipped, and despite my best efforts, I found myself rolling in his direction.
My back was pressed against his chest when he pulled me even closer with his arm. I could feel him hard beneath his pants.
“Is this your best behavior?” I asked.
He chuckled softly, wrapping me closer into him. “Looks like the bed had other plans,” he teased, his voice a warm whisper against my ear. It spread chills through my body, making mystomach drop as my core tightened. Then he lifted the hem of my shirt and trailed the tips of his fingers against my skin.
My breathing started to slow, my mind drifting in and out. I could have fallen asleep with his touch, but his stare kept me awake.
“Are you waiting for me to fall asleep?” I asked, my voice low.
“Yes,” he admitted, placing a small kiss on my shoulder.
“Why?”
“You threatened me with a pillow.”
“Oh, did I?”
“You did.” He continued to trail his fingers down the side of my body—only, this time they went lower, down to the curve of my hips.
“Well, maybe you should take that threat seriously,” I said, rolling my hips slightly. I could feel him pressing against me.
His breath hitched, his grip on my hip tightening even more. “Then maybe you should stop moving your ass against me,” he murmured, his voice husky.
“Sorry,” I lied. “I can’t get comfortable in this bed with you. You take up the entire thing.”
“It would help if you relaxed.” His hand slid around to my front, fingers grazing the sensitive skin of my stomach before resting possessively against my hip.
I hated that a man this grumpy could make everything in my body feel dizzy from his touch. How was he able to do that? How could he do that to my heart?
I fell asleep in his arms trying to find out.
