Page 30 of A Dangerous Kind of Love

He sets me down in front of the sink and grabs my toothbrush. I watch in the mirror as he calmly puts toothpaste on it and hands it to me. Then he does the same to his. Apparently, we’re brushing our teeth together now. I stare at him through the mirror.

He grins.

I don’t.

I spit and rinse my toothbrush.

“You’ve gotten really comfortable in my house after one date,” I say.

“I came to your work for a week and sat in a booth watching you. Are you surprised?”

Oh good. The stalker is self-aware.

“Are you going to kill me in my sleep?”

I glance at him through the mirror, and his eyes flick to my mouth.

“And never kiss those lips again?” he murmurs and smiles. “I don’t think so.”

“You go first,” I say, gesturing toward the door.

He shakes his head, so I cross my arms.

“I’m getting really tired of you telling me what to do.”

His mouth twitches. “I don’t think you are.”

“Ugh!”

I throw my head back and stomp back to my room like a five-year-old. I yank the covers back and crawl into bed.

Michael walks in a second later. He raises an eyebrow, grinning, and slips into the other side of my queen-sized bed. I huff loudly as I rearrange everything—pillow, blanket, legs—shifting three different times until I’m completely turned on my side, facing away from him.

He scoots toward me. The bed is already too small for his massive frame, so now he’s basically right on top of me. His hand slips under the covers and lands on my hip, and my entire body lights up.

“Did I say you could touch me?” I say, still facing away.

“I didn’t think you’d mind,” he says easily, “considering you haven’t kicked me out of your bed, Doll.”

I spin around.

“What is up with that stupid nickname?”

“You don’t like it, Doll?“ he asks, putting extra emphasis on it this time.

And of course, I like it.

“What are you, some mafia boss from the forties?”

He grins and wraps his arm around me, tugging me against him.

“You have no idea.”

“You’re so stupid.”

I sigh.

“But you’re also warm.”