Page 11 of One Bed

The walls of the cottage seemed to expand and contract along with her ribs. After what seemed like a million years, he lifted his head to look at her properly, and she caught a hint of resignation in his eyes. ‘You’re not going to leave, are you?’

She shook her head. No, not this time. This time, thisonetime, she was going to do what felt right for her, and that meant sticking and staying.

‘No. I told you, this is where I want to be.’

Another lift of those huge shoulders. ‘I guess we’re just gonna have to share that bed. As Golly said, it could sleep four.’

Oh, wait, hold on a second now. She jabbed her index finger at him. ‘Youneed to leave the cottage,youneed to find another place to stay.’

‘Not happening.’ He sat up straight, and his silver-blue eyes drilled into and through her. ‘I’m dammed if I am going to be chased out of accommodation I paid for.’ He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. ‘I’m sleeping in that bed. Whether you sleep in it too is up to you.’

Caught on the back foot, she shot up and paced the area between the chair and the fugly couch. ‘That’s not going to work for me.’

‘Tough.’ He didn’t soften his gaze. ‘The way I see it, you have three choices: sleep somewhere else, sleep on that,’ he nodded to the divan, ‘or sleep in the bed.’

She hadn’t shared a bed with a man in nearly five years. She slept like a starfish, and maybe she snored or, even worse, farted, in her sleep.

‘You can?—’

‘Not arguing anymore,’ he snapped. ‘It’s over. Three choices, what’s it going to be?’

She rocked on her heels, biting the inside of her cheek as she ran through her options. ‘I doubt we’ll see that much of each other. I’m organising the weekend so there’s lots to do,’ she said, grasping at straws. ‘I’ll probably be out of here early most mornings. If I’m not, I’ll be working on the deck.’

She was not,not,going to give up her writing spot.

He repeated his question. ‘Bed, that ugly-as-shit thing or somewhere else?’

He wasn’t backing down, dammit, and it was obvious that, despite his hot gaze raising baby blisters on her skin, he expected her to. As the CEO of a huge company, he was used to being obeyed and expected his minions to ask how high and far they should jump when he spoke. But she wasn’t going to cave, not this time.

She eyed the California King through the open bedroom door. The bed was huge, and there were layers of cushions, so if she needed a barrier between them, she could use those. Hell, maybe a barrier would be a good idea, as there was a chance she might, accidentally on purpose, roll over and land on top of him.

She shook her head, annoyed by her casual deceit. As she knew, and knewwell, there were no accidents when it came to sex. ‘It happened by accident, Bea!’was Gerry’s favourite excuse to explain his infidelities. He always rolled his eyes when she reminded him that he couldn’taccidentallytrip and fall into someone’s vagina. From the first flirtation, the first text message, the first kiss, infidelity was a series of choices, with sex being the final one.

And when she slept with a man again, it would be because she wanted to.

Pushing away her thoughts about a naked Gib – so hard to do! – she pulled her attention back to the bed.

‘This whole situation would be a lot easier if you were less stubborn!’ she snapped.

‘Right back at you, sweetheart.’

She wasn’t, generally, inflexible. All her life, she’d drifted along with the current, terrified of being criticised, hating herself for not being strong enough to stand up for herself, for making sure everyone – specifically her father and Gerry – were happy. Usually at the expense of her peace of mind and happiness. Not that either of them had ever noticed.

She lifted her head and met his eyes. ‘I’m staying,’ she told him, cursing her shaky voice. ‘And I’m sleeping in that bed,sweetheart.’

His eyes clashed with hers. ‘So am I.’

Well,shit.

But she couldn’t back down now. ‘Fine.’

‘Fine.’

Bea gritted her teeth at the note of amusement she heard in his voice. She wanted to blast him but knew she’d lose any ground – if she’d gained any at all – if she continued to argue. She didn’t have enough facts and hadn’t researched how to deal with intractable, assertive men. She was ill-equipped to argue with a man who, she was sure, had mastered the art of negotiation. He hadn’t given an inch…

But, it was worth noting, neither had she. And damn, she was proud of herself for not backing down.

But she would still have to share the bed and the cottage with him, and that, for the record, was anything butfine.

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