Page 36 of The Wolf's Plus-Size Bride

“I’m not taking the bed,” she argues. “You’re the one who’s injured. You’re the one who needs to rest. You’re the one who needs to heal. I’m fine. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No,” I state without room for argument. “A man does not make a woman sleep on the couch.”

“This isn’t the 1950s,” she counters. “Women can sleep on the couch if they want to.”

“Not in my house,” I say.

“You’re not even sleeping in your house,” she reminds me. “You’re sleeping inmyhouse. So, therefore, you don’t get a say in what happens in my house.”

“I’m not sleeping in your bed.”

“Then I’m not, either,” she declares. “I guess we’re both sleeping out here, then. I’ll take the floor, and you can have the couch.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I scoff. “You’re not sleeping on the floor.”

“I’m not letting you sleep on the floor, and I’m not taking the bed.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Gwen stomps out of her bedroom. Her curlers are still in her hair, and she’s wearing a long, pink nightgown. “You two are the most stubborn peopleI’ve ever met. Why are you even fighting about this? Why can’t you both sleep in the bed?”

“Because…” Jane trails off, and for a second, I’m almost afraid she’s going to tell her the truth. “Because Rafe is hurt, and I don’t want to accidentally roll over and hurt him.”

“Oh, honey, you sleep like the damn dead,” Aunt Gwen says with a sigh. “I doubt you’ll even move. Now, enough of this. I’m tired, and I have a headache. Stop arguing and go to bed. Both of you. Now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I grumble.

“Aunt Gwen, I don’t think-”

“Bed. Now.”

“Okay,” Jane relents, holding her hands up. “We’re going.”

“Good,” Aunt Gwen says with a curt nod. “And I don’t want to hear another word about it. Now, good night.”

She disappears back into her room, and Jane and I look at each other.

“Looks like we’re sharing the bed,” I comment with a smirk.

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Looks like it.”

“I’ll try not to hog the covers,” I tease.

“I’ll try not to drool all over you,” she retorts.

“You can drool all over me,” I say, winking at her. “I don’t mind.”

She blushes and turns away, and I laugh.

“Come on,” I say, standing. “Let’s go to bed. I’m exhausted.”

She nods and stands, and we walk to her room. I pause in the doorway and watch her. She’s so beautiful. She’s wearing a pair of tiny shorts and a tank top, and her hair is pulled back in a ponytail. Even in this relaxed state, she’s breathtaking. Sleeping next to her that first night was torture. I could feel her heat, and it took every ounce of willpower I had not to touch her. And now I’m going to have to sleep next to her again, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to resist.

“Do you need help getting your shirt off?” she offers, getting quieter with each word as though she’s embarrassed by her question.

“Uh, yeah,” I agree. “That would be great.”

I turn around, and she helps me lift the shirt over my head. Her fingers brush against my skin, and I have to suppress a groan. It was the same way back at the infirmary. When she was helping me with the bandages, her hands were everywhere, and I could feel her touch all the way to my bones. And when she kissed me, I had to stop myself from taking it further. The disappointment on her face was clear as day, but I just didn’t trust myself not to do something stupid.

Not to mention I was in a pretty vulnerable state. The last thing I ever want Jane to see me as is weak, and I was definitely feeling weak at that moment.

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