“Nice try,” I muttered, already reaching for a spare pillow and dragging part of the bedding free from the bed in one swift, decisive motion.
“What are you doing?” he asked, watching me as I adjusted the bundle in my arms, trying to ignore the abundance of muscles on show.
“If you won’t leave, and you won’t let me sleep anywhere else, then I’m improvising,” I replied, not bothering to look back at him as I headed toward the couch.
“You're being serious?” he asked incredulously. As if the idea that a female would choose not to sleep next to him was totally unheard of. Have you seen him? My girly parts screamed at me.
“Deadly,” I shot back at once, dropping the pillow onto the couch before spreading the blanket out with a little more force than necessary.
“I like my personal space exactly where it is, thank you very much,” I added, bending over slightly, and I swore I heard a groan coming from the bed. I snapped my head up and straightened, catching him looking at my ass before he could hide it… that was, if he even attempted to try.
“Suit yourself,” he said, giving in far too soon, and it put me on edge. As if he knew by the end of the night, I would end up exactly where he wanted me, one way or another. All he had todo was bide his time. And I would have scoffed at the idea. That was until the fire died down, far too quickly to be by natural means.
Which meant that without the heat, the temperature in the room quickly plummeted. But that wasn’t all. The moment I actually attempted to get comfortable, it became painfully clear that this couch, whilst aesthetically pleasing, had not been designed for sleeping. In fact, it felt like it had been created by someone who had never once intended to lie on it at all.
The cushions were just firm enough to be uncooperative. The angle was just awkward enough to make finding a position unnecessarily difficult. And no matter how I shifted, something always seemed slightly off.
I huffed softly, tugging the blanket higher before muttering under my breath,
“All this money and you couldn’t splash out on a decent couch.”
“Excuse me?” came his voice from across the room.
“Nothing,” I replied quickly.
“Perhaps I saved all my money for a lavishly comfortable bed instead. After all, it gets used a lot more than what you're currently lying on, scowling at me,” he retorted far too calmly and proving that he had heard me just fine. Of course, he was right. I was scowling at him, something he could clearly see, even after he had turned out the light. I huffed and rolled over to face away from him, groaning slightly when it took me an age to try and get comfortable again.
“If it’s so bad, why not opt for something better, as I promise that you will find the bed far more accommodating,” he continued, and I snorted softly at that.
“Not with the large, infuriating lump of muscle currently occupying it,” I grumbled, and his smug laughter followed.
“Well, you know where I am should you change your mind,” he said, shifting slightly as the sheets rustled softly around him. Around that most likely naked body of his… damn him! I just needed to stop thinking about him. Because the problem wasn’t just that he was in the room.It was that I was very, very aware of him being in the room.
Aware of that incredible body I had seen. Aware of his large, manly hands. Aware of that ridiculously handsome face. Of those sexy tattoos… of those piercing eyes… of those perfect lips…fuck!
Which, unfortunately, left far too much open to interpretation.
“Oh my God, stop it!”I whispered to myself, squeezing my eyes shut as I pulled the blanket tighter around me, as though that might somehow shield me from my own thoughts.
And yet, no matter how firmly I tried to shut the obsessing thoughts down, it lingered, persistent and entirely unhelpful, making sleep feel like a very distant and unlikely possibility.
To make matters worse, the longer I lay there, the more aware I became of something else entirely…the cold.
I shifted slightly beneath the blanket, frowning faintly as I curled in on myself just a little more, trying to ignore it.
Trying and failing.
Because no matter how tightly I curled into myself, no matter how much I tugged the blanket up around me, the cold seemed to find its way in regardless. It slipped beneath the fabric, settled into my skin, and lingered there in a way that made it impossible to ignore. And worse still, it only seemed to hone in on everything else. Every thought, every awareness, every frustrating and entirely unhelpful fixation on the man currently occupying the bed behind me.
I huffed softly, shifting again and tucking my hands closer beneath my chin as though that might help. Although it did very little beyond making me more aware of how awake I still was.
At some point, however, exhaustion must have begun to win out. Because the sharp edge of my thoughts slowly began to dull. The constant stream of them softened into something slower and less insistent as my body finally started to give in. Not sleep, not fully, but something close enough that I drifted, hovering somewhere in that hazy space between awareness and rest.
It was there that I felt it.
Movement.
Subtle at first, just enough to stir me from that fragile state as something shifted beneath me. The couch dipped slightly before I was suddenly enveloped in pure warmth. Strong arms slid beneath me without warning, one at my back and the other beneath my legs. And before my brain could fully catch up, I was being lifted.
