Page 22 of Mensa's Match

“Typical,” she muttered and bent to her phone.

With her attention turned, he quickly shed his jeans, and pulled back the covers.

Her sharp inhale got his attention. “Seriously? You’re sleeping in your underwear?”

He slid under the covers. “You didn’t buy me any pajamas, Blume. What do you expect me to do? Sleep in my Levi’s? Fat fuckin’ chance.”

“Do you normally sleep in your underwear?”

He couldn’t resist fucking with her. “When there’s a woman in the bed, I sleep naked, Blume. Efficiency is the name of my game. Believe me, I’m doing you a favor this way.”

She stared at him. “You are a liar.”

He grinned. “So are you, babe. Don’t you need your beauty rest, Miss Hell-on-Wheels?”

The bed jostled violently as she exited the bed, but it was her annoyed huff that made him choke on laughter.

Chapter 7

Not Going to Plan

Whitney

This was not goingto plan.

Who was I kidding? What plan?

I’d bought a large bottle of wine in an effort to build a rapport with Mensa. Instead the man made it clear he knew what was up by sharing he had to stay on his toes. The fact he knew I was lying threw me like nothing else.

Thinking back on it, my voice had held just a hint of a quiver when I said I hadn’t been investigating him.

Him mentioning a file… there wasn’t an official one on him, unless you counted my personal collection of notes. I watched him like a hawk, and his love of Skittles was clear, but Sierra confirmed it when she’d shared a story of Mensa spending an afternoon at her house in order to keep her safe.

Now, I had to sleep next to that man while he wore nothing but his t-shirt and underwear.

Gah!

I finished in the bathroom and padded to the bed. Mensa had turned out all the lights. He’d turned on the TV, which gave me enough light to see.

And boy, did I see. Mensa had taken his shirt off and his muscular tattooed chest stole my attention. My mouth went dry. I lifted the covers and climbed into bed.

Mensa pointed the remote at the TV. I grabbed my phone and set the noise app to a continuous setting.

After I set the phone on the nightstand, I rolled to my side, away from Mensa. “Sleep well.”

He sighed. “You too.”

It took more time than usual for me to find sleep. It was cold in the room, but I felt like I was producing ten times my normal body heat. I forced myself to stop thinking about my body heat, and eventually, I fell asleep.

A door down the hall slammed and I woke with a jolt.

“Fuckin’ pricks,” Mensa mumbled.

I heard andfelthis mumble. Then I realized I’d somehow rolled to my left and tangled a leg with his. My arm rested along the curve of his hip.

His hand clamped down on my wrist when I made to pull free. “Don’t. Move.”

“Mensa… you hate my guts, and I never meant to—”

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