Page 17 of Unbreakable Vow

He dumps me on the bed.

I scramble off the bed and he grabs hold of me before I can get two steps away from him.

“Why must you defy me?” he asks, annoyance carrying in his words.

“I’m not defying you. I’m just not all that into being dragged from bed,” I explain, tugging on my arm, but he doesn’t give.

“Then you should have been where I put you.” He lets go of my arm. “Have you decided not to go through with our arrangement?”

My throat clenches. That would put me squarely back at the beginning of having nowhere to turn.

“No. Of course not. It’s just, well, like you said, you’re the boss. And bosses don’t sleep with their subordinates. So I figured I’d take the other room. You know, because we don’t really know each other at all, and if this is just a short, temporary thing, then there’s no reason to get comfortable around each other.”

“You ramble when you’re nervous.” He reaches behind me, pulling the bedding down on the bed. The other side is already disturbed, like he’d gotten into bed before realizing I wasn’t there.

“I’m not nervous. I’m annoyed. You’re very bossy and you keep manhandling me.” I rub my arm where his grip had been. It doesn’t hurt, but a little sympathy from him would be nice.

He jerks his hand at the bed. “You’ll get used to it. Now, get into bed.”

“I’ll get used to what?” I ask.

“Me. Last chance to get in on your own.” His lips pinch together.

“Fine.” I climb back up into the bed and get settled. He yanks the blankets over me then carefully folds them at my chin before stalking around the massive bed and climbing in on his side.

A heavy arm drops over my stomach.

I wish I’d grabbed a longer nightshirt from my suitcases when I got dressed for bed. I’d been so tired from the huge dinner Mrs. Yugov made for me, and all the worrying I did over my mother’s paperwork, I’d just wanted to climb into bed and pass out. I hadn’t counted on him stealing me from my bed.

But I am fully awake now.

The room settles into a thick silence. After enough time passes, I look over at him.

The blanket is only covering him up to his waist, and he’s sleeping on his stomach. Even his back is sexy.

“You’re staring,” his voice rumbles.

I drag my eyes from his half-naked body back up to his face and find his dark eyes peering at me.

“I thought you were asleep.” Which only makes it creepier, but it was the first thing that popped into my head.

“Not yet.” He looks at me.

“Maybe you’d sleep better if you had the bed to yourself.” He’s too close. I shouldn’t be in his bed.

“Your place is here. Don’t ask again for your own room.”

I turn back to staring at the ceiling. His arm, while heavy, is comforting as it lays over me. “Did you have dinner? I think there’s leftovers for you in the fridge, if you didn’t eat.”

“I did.”

“Oh.” What do you talk about with a man you’ve only met a few hours ago and are sharing his bed and are about to become his fake wife? “What did you have?” I’m usually much better at conversations, but his bare foot touches mine beneath the covers.

“I don’t know what it was, some kind of pasta.” He leans up on his elbow, looking down at me now with more curiosity.

“Did your meeting go well?” I ask when he grabs the blanket at my throat and gently starts to peel it down the length of me.

“My meeting?” He pushes the blanket to my knees and inspects the black cotton nightshirt I’m wearing with an ironed-on cup of coffee with a smile printed on the cup. My face heats.

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