"To sleep," he clarifies. "I'm not letting you work yourself to death."
"This isn't a guest room."
He pushes open the biggest door at the end of the hall way. "It is now."
The room is enormous. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretch along one wall, pouring in light, and just beyond its glass doorsits a balcony sitting just outside the glass door, and soft, warm lighting casts everything in an intimate, almost inviting glow.
A king-sized bed dominates the centre, covered in white linen, with a sleek tabletop beside it. It was empty. The room looked like it had zero personality, but I knew very well that that was far from the truth.
Two doors lined the walls opposite it. One of them was slightly ajar and I could tell it was a closet. The other must be a bathroom.
He sets me down gently on the bed. "Go take a bath," he says.
I cross my arms. "Get out first."
His expression falls. "You're kicking me out of my own room?"
"Yes, since this is MY guestroom I deserve a little privacy."
He grins. "As you wish, my love." Then he leaves. I walk into the bathroom and freeze.
Sitting beside the marble tub are my exact soaps. My loofah. My body lotion. The brand I have to special order because it's always sold out.
How does he know?
I stare at the collection, torn between flattered and freaked out.
This is creepy. Definitely creepy.
But also kind of...No. Stop. I take a long bath, trying to clear my head. When I get out, I find one of his shirts laid out on the counter. Smelling faintly like citrus and cotton candy, it's a very weird combination, but hey if I'm smelling it and not gagging, its good.
I snoop through his things until I find a bottle. Clive Christian No. 1. Imperial Majesty.
Well, now I know what he uses. I put on the shirt. It's huge. The sleeves hang past my hands, the hem falls to my thighs, turning it into a shirt dress I look good, I wonder if I can keep it. The door opens and Ilay walks in stopping dead in his tracks.
His gaze pins me in place and his lips part fractionally, a flicker of surprise crossing his features, and for a moment he seems unmoored, caught entirely off guard. I snap out a quick warning, "Don't get ideas," yet he does not respond, he does not move, he merely stands there staring, the weight of his look pressing down on me in a way that makes the air between us almost unbearable. I turn away, grab a pillow from the bed, and drop it in the center of the mattress. "You sleep here," I say, patting one side. "I sleep here." I add another pillow. Then another. Building a wall. His jaw twitches. Then he stalks toward me. Slowly. My heart kicks hard against my chest wondering what he'll do. He stops right in front of me. Close enough that I can feel the heat coming off him.
He looks down at my face. Then without a word he turns, walking to his side of the bed, and lies down facing away from me.
That's it. No teasing. No crossing the line. Just sleep. I stand there for a full minute, confused.
Why am I disappointed? I climb into bed and close my eyes. I hate that he respected the pillows.
I hate that part of me wishes he hadn't. This man is making me just as crazy as he is.
• • •
I wake up hot, and for a moment I can't figure out why, until I feel the solid weight beneath me and the familiar scent curling around me. I glance down and realize I'm sprawled across Ilay, my arms are draped over his chest, and my leg hooked over his hip, my face buried in his neck, my hair everywhere but my side of the freaking bed. Shit, if he notices this, he'll never let me live it down. I try to move carefully, hoping not to wake him, and peek at his face. His eyes are open, catching mine, and he's smiling, clearly aware he caught me. Before I can react, his hand slides to my ass coping a feel, and just like that, every coherent thought I had vanishes. I yelp and scramble back, nearly tumbling off the bed. "You...how dare you..." He stretches lazily. "Look around, baby girl. You're on my side."
I look. Damn it. I am. "The bed's too small," I mutter.
He laughs. "You sleep like a wild animal."
I glare at him, feeling my face heat up. "Don't flatter yourself," I snap. "You probably rolled into me."
"Sure," he says, grinning. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."
• • •
