Page 45 of Arranged Obsession
Get it together.
Before he can argue, the doorbell rings. Relief hits me as I walk past him and find the movers out front. “Got the rest of your things, ma’am.” Their foreman is a big white guy with a buzz cut. “Where do you want it?”
“Pile it all here.” I glance at my husband, but he’s already disappearing upstairs. “I’ll deal with it later.”
The cushions are scratchy.There’s a noise nearby and I grumble to myself, only half awake as I roll onto my side. How long was I asleep for? My back hurts. I feel like all the plants are staring at me.
I let out a frustrated sigh, not sure what woke me up.
The house sounds wrong.
All the creaks and cracks make me jumpy. The noises outside feel off too. The pitch of the cop cars and the ambulances makes my blood run cold.
Not home. Not even close.
Cormac refused to budge about the whole sleeping together thing. When it became clear I wasn’t going to give in to his demands, he retreated into his office and pretended like I didn’t exist. Which gave me some time to pile my stuff in the largest of the empty rooms, figuring that’ll be mine.
But until a bed comes, I’m stuck here.
There’s a movement in the kitchen and I suck in a surprised breath. I sit up, looking over my shoulder.
Cormac’s standing there, staring back at me.
Is this a dream? A weird one if it is. Usually I’m naked or late for work. But no, I’m definitely awake. And that’s definitely my husband wearing only a pair of black shorts and nothing on top.
His muscles are incredible. The tattoos that cover every inch of his skin are terrifying.
He looks like hell. But the good kind.
“What are you doing?” I ask, groggy. I rub a knuckle against my spine, trying to loosen the knots.God, this couch is awful.
“Getting a glass of water.”
“Were you watching me sleep?”
He ignores my question. “You’re uncomfortable. Come to bed.”
“There is nobed. That’s your room. This is mine.” I flop back down with a groan. “I can’t believe you’re starting this argument again. What time is it?”
“Two in the morning.”
I rub my face with a sigh and pull the thin blanket up to my chin. “Goodnight, Cormac.”
“You’ll be more comfortable with me.” He comes closer. I turn my head to look at him. All those defined curves between each swell of his abdomen. The curve of his collarbones. His incredible chest. The man’s aspecimen. It’s freakish, honestly. My heart thuds rapidly. “I promise I won’t touch.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Unless you want me to.”
“Definitely not.”
“I have an extra pillow already. There’s space. You need rest, Bianca.”
“I’m fine here.”
“You’re not.” He kneels down beside me. His voice softens. “I know you want to keep your distance. I feel the same way. But at least we can be reasonable about this.”
What’s reasonable about sleeping in bed with him? I try to make that make sense, and nothing adds up.
