I’m having the best of freaking life, when I co to, mattress is sooo freaking soft I never want to get up, Not the one in my bedroom soft that I’ve gotten used to, but deep and warm, like it’s been holding heat all night. The air slls different too, sothing like Soap? And skin and so.... so male??.
My eyes stay closed while my brain scrambles to place it.
Then I feel it there’s... there’s hand around my waist. What the actual fuck?.
My body goes rigid with my heart slamingb, hard enough that I feel it in my throat.
I open my eyes.
The first thing I see is skin, bare skin. A broad chest rising and falling slowly, covered with faint scars , a dusting of dark hair beneath my cheek. My face is pressed into him, my nose is basically buried against his sternum.
My arm is thrown over his middle and my leg is hooked over his thigh, knee tucked in close, my body curved into his like we do this every night.
I don’t. I absolutely do not.
Sunlight is pouring in through the glass because neither of us bothered with the curtains. It’s late morning at least, maybe later. The light is warm, completely unconcerned with the fact that I am currently half wrapped around my husband.
Zane.
My head is on Zane’s chest.
Oh my God.
I jerk back like the bed is on fire.
"WHAT THE FUCKIJG HELL....!"
I scramble off the mattress, tangling in sheets, tripping over my own feet I land hard on the floor, palms slapping down to catch myself. My heart is racing so fast it makes dizzy.
Zane groans awake, soundin annoyed.
He shifts, rolling onto his back, one arm flung over his face like I’ve interrupted so precious sleep of his.
"What are you screaming for," he mutters, his voice deep and rough with sleep.
I stare at him.
The covers have slipped down to to his waist line.
And.....holy fucking hell.
I don’t an this in a romantic way, I don’t an this in a swoony way either, I an it in a factual, deeply inconvenient way.
He looks unfair.
Muscles I did not need to see at all, but my eyes greedily take it in, lines I do not need to see burned deep into my mory. A chest that looks like it belongs on a statue, his skin is warm-toned and smooth. His stomach is flat and hard with six distinct well defined muscles that make my brain short-circuit for half a second before panic slams back in.
I yank my eyes away.
"Why the hell am I in your bed," I demand, scrambling to my feet.
He lowers his arm and looks at .
"You fell asleep here," he says
"No the hell I did not."
"But you did."
"I did not co into your room," I snap. "I went to bed in mine, if I rember correctly I was in Margaret’s ho, but I know there’s no way I slept here on my own, I don’t even know where your freaking room is Zane."
He sits up, sheets sliding lower, and I turn my back imdiately, heat crawling up my neck.
"You passed out on last night," he says. "I wasn’t going to drag you all the way to the other wig so I brought you here.."
"So you just...what?...decided to cuddle ," I spin back around, furious. "Is that your excuse?"
He raises an eyebrow. "You’re the one who crawled into little spitfire."
"That’s a lie."
"You wrapped your leg around ," he adds calmly. "Very enthusiastically."
"I was not enthusiastic," I snap. "I was intoxicated by weed and exhaustion."
He watches for a long mont, then swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands.
Fully naked from the waist up.
I freeze.
There’s a mont where my brain simply stops functioning because my body is stupid and it finds this very annoying man hot.
I shove that thought away imdiately.
"Cover yourself," I bark.
"You’re my wife," he says flatly.
"That doesn’t give you a license to traumatize before breakfast."
He smirks slightly at that, grabs a shirt from the chair, and pulls it on.
Then he looks at again, all seriousness now.
"From today," he says, "you sleep here, in my bed."
My stomach drops.
"No. I will do no such thing."
"It’s not up for discussion."
"It absolutely is," I say, crossing my arms. "I am not sharing a freaking bed with you."
He steps closer and I move on to him staring him straight in the face.
"I’m not a fucking child!."
"No but you act like one."
My hands clench. "I am not moving into your room and I’m not sleeping in your bed."
"You already did."
"That was not consent."
His jaw tightens. "You were high."
"And you took advantage of that," I fire back.
Sothing flashes in his eyes then, but it’s gone quickly before I can analyze it.
"Careful," he says. "That’s not a line you get to cross."
I swallow my heart pounding, but I don’t back down.
"I will sleep in my room, I’m not moving into yours." I say. .
He exhales slowly through his nose.
"You think this is about sex, don’t you." he says. "It’s not."
"Then why," I demand.
Silence settles between us when he doesn’t answer.
My head spins suddenly for a second, the room tilts slightly, like the floor isn’t quite level.
I steady myself against the dresser.
Zane notices of course.
His eyes narrowing slightly on ."You alright?."
"I’m fine," I lie.
He watches for another beat, then turns away.
"Get dressed," he says. "Breakfast is waiting."
"I’m not agreeing, to this arrangent. " I call after him.
He pauses at the door.
"You don’t have to agree, little spitfire." he says without turning aroud
Then the door closes behind him.
Whatever ga he thinks he’s playing, I am not losing myself to it.
Not in his bed, not in his house. Not ever
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