It was late. I’d been scrolling on my phone for so long that it felt like I’d reached the end of the internet. Still, sleep was a fantasy at this point.
What now?
I sat up in bed. I’d been pretty overwhelmed during Logan’s speed-run tour of the house, but I did remember the gorgeous “skybrary” he’d shown me: a library so open and airy that it felt like it was up in the clouds. I decided I’d journey across the house to find it so I could grab a book and read until my eyes finally got heavy. The problem was where to find the damnthing. Logan’s lair was all long corridors and shut doors. I felt more than a little exposed and vulnerable, wandering around them in my sleep shorts, which were short shorts, and a thin tank top.
Whatever. Everyone was bound to be asleep at this hour. No one was going to catch me.
I tiptoed down the hallway. The thick runner absorbed my footsteps, which was especially important as I walked by Noah’s room. I could tell he was happy I was with them but confused about our arrangement. He kept asking when we’d know about our big wedding, and how far off the party was.
I hated lying to the sweet boy.
I opened a door and peeked in the darkened space. Another gorgeous bedroom. Onward.
A linen closet,anotherbedroom, one of the three laundry rooms spread throughout the place, but no skybrary. Was it up a level?
I opened the last door at the end of the hallway and barged in, because time was wasting, and I was getting frustrated by the guy’s stupid-big house.
Why did one man need so much space anyway?
I froze once I finally looked around, because the man himself was in bed, staring at me in shock.
Shirtless. Inglasses. Holding…abook?
“Yes?” he said.
I didn’t know what to do first. Apologize for crashing my way into his sanctuary? Try to cover my now-perky nipples? Or turn on my heel and run back to my room?
One thing I couldn’t seem to do at all was keep myself from staring at his slutty little setup. He was leaning back against the headboard, cradling a hardcover book in one hand with the light of a small bedside lamp illuminating him.
Shirtless.
Did I already mention that part?
I mean, Ihadbeen up close and personal with his chesty real estate the night we consummated our marriage. Hell, I’d practically worshipped it, so I shouldn’t have been quite so amazed by the expanse of golden skin. But knowing he’d been shirtless and pressed up against me sent visions to my head that were a heady mix of wishful thinking and actual memories until I couldn’t tell one from the other.
Like, did those fine blond chest hairs actually tickle against my breasts, or was I just fantasizing that it happened?
I crossed my arms more tightly across my chest.
“Sorry!” I finally sputtered out. “I, uh, was looking for book. I mean,books. The library thingy. Theskybrary.”
The corner of his mouth turned up. “You’re close. I’ll show you.”
I started to protest, but he slid out of bed, revealing boxer briefs as well as a set of sculpted thighs.
I’d been between those massive things, on my knees.
I gasped and looked away quickly, but not quickly enough because he caught me nearly drooling at the sight.
And hechuckled. At me.
“Give me one sec,” he said as he grabbed a white T-shirt out of his dresser and slid it on.
I guess my eye-fucking was obvious. He must have felt like he had to get dressed because I was staring at him like an obsessed stalker.
Hold on. Did I just accidentally sexually harass my boss? Or was it okay since he was technically my husband?
“It’s this way,” he said over his shoulder.
