The silence between us lingers.
She does.
I swipe the sandwich up and take a bite before tossing it back on to the plate. “Eat.”
She stares at the sandwich before slowly picking it up. A soft hum escapes her lips and hits straight to my cock.
Her eyes close.
How long has it been since she’s eaten?
She’s pretty thin.
Her eyes snap open and glare at me.
“You’re staring,” she says around the mouthful.
“You’re in my apartment wearing my shirt. I’ll stare if I want to.”
She swallows hard. “Where am I sleeping?”
“My bed.”
“No.”
I take in a breath. She’s pissing me off with the “no’s.”
“Yes. I won’t touch you. Don’t flatter yourself.”
I add it to hurt her and by the look in her eyes it lands.
I watch her face close off, like shutters slamming down. She sets the sandwich on the plate.
Good.
She should be hurt. Should feel something other than that cold defiance she wears like armor.
“The couch is fine,” she says bitter.
“The couch is shit. You’ll fuck up your back.”
“I don’t care.”
“I do. You’re working for me now, at my bakery. Can’t have you calling in sick because you slept on a couch that’s more decorative than functional.”
Her jaw clenches. “I’m not sleeping in your bed, Maksim.”
“Then we’llbothsleep there. It’s big enough.”
“Yeah, that’s the fucking problem. No.”
I lean against the counter. “You got a better solution?”
“The floor.”
I laugh. Actually laugh. “You’d rather sleep on the floor than share a bed with me?”
“Yes.”
