Page 71 of The Proposal Pact
Nope. No, it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be because Clover was there. Why would that matter? I was simply so tired from the day’s “fun,” I crashed. That was it.
I toss and turn for about five more minutes before I hear Clover moving around as well.
So, I call out, “Still comfortable there?”
The only answer I get is a grunt.
I sigh, what a stubborn man. Pushing the duvet off me, I stomp toward the door. It’s not that I believe I need Clover to sleep good, but why not test that theory.
If he’d only stop being so stubborn.
“Clover, don’t be ridiculous.” I sigh for the millionth time, leaning against the door casing. “Come sleep in the bed.”
“I’m good here.” I take in his large frame that barely fits on my new couch. His feet awkwardly dangling over the hand rest.
“You’re so not good here.” I sigh,again, crossing my arms across my chest. “Unlessss…” I drag the word out with a teasing lull to it. “You’re scared to sleep in one bed with me?”
Clover’s head pops up from that small pink pillow. “Why would I be scared? That is just something unnecessary in our situation.”
“Oh, you’re quite wrong.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because married people sleep together, you know.”
“Yeah, I’m aware, but we are not that kind of married.”
“Well, Gracie doesn’t know it. So, unless you plan to clue her in on our scheme, you better get in the bed.”
Clover props up further, leaning on his elbows. “What does Grace have to do with where I sleep?”
“She likes to pop into my apartment at any given time.”
“You’re lying.” He narrows his eyes at me.
“Want to test it?” I arch one eyebrow.
Clover rolls then purses his lips, then sighs and with a whole lot of muttered curses, he swings the blanket off his body. “Fine, I’ll be there in a minute.”
Smiling victoriously, I turn and get back into my bed. A minute later, like he promised, Clover walks around to the other side of my bed, and by the way it sounds, sets a glass of water on the nightstand before he gets under the covers.
I grin, satisfied with myself.
“Stop gloating,” he mutters flatly, and my grin grows tenfold.
“How do you know I’m gloating? I’m not gloating.” I am most definitely gloating, but he can’t know that with my back facing him.
Clover snorts. “Yeah, right. I can smell it in the air.”
I can’t hold it in, letting out a laugh at his matter-of-fact tone.
“See? Gloating,” Clover states dryly, and it makes it even worse.
I’m practically wheezing when my leg bends backward and accidentally brushes against something warm and hairy. My laugh cuts right off as I freeze for a second before probing with my toes further, dragging it against that warm and hairy thing.
Leg! Clover’s leg!
“Where are your pants?” I ask, still not turning around.
