Page 7 of Make Me Yours
I made atskingsound. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You will not be sleeping on this couch.” There’s no way he would comfortably fit.
He laughed softly. “I’ll be fine.”
“Nonsense. Go to bed. I’ve got this.” I began unfolding the blankets and arranging them on the couch.
His hands found mine, and he stopped me. “You’re the guest. You should take my bed.” His voice was solemn, sweet.
I couldn’t resist placing my hand on his chest. Yep, just as solid and warm as I expected. “I’m not a guest, sweetheart, I’m an annoying neighbor with a bat problem who woke you up in the middle of the night.”
He smirked.
“Now go to bed.” I patted his chest.
He held me in his gaze. “You’re a feisty little thing, aren’t you?”
“Damn straight.”
He laughed out loud. “And how do you know I’m not a serial killer?”
“Yes, because serial killers usually wear oven mitts for intimidation and buy their victims pancakes before tucking them into bed.” I rolled my eyes for effect.
His mouth twitched in amusement. “Valid point.” He turned to head to his room. “Just let me know if you need anything—or if you spot any bats. I’ve got the oven mitts ready.”
A noise from the other room caught our attention. Cohen’s face registered recognition.
He shook his head with a smirk on his face. “There’s just one problem.”
I waited, unsure where this was heading. Maybe his girlfriend had decided to come over after all.
“Bob usually sleeps here.”
Before I had the chance to ask who Bob was, a dog the size of a bear came barreling down the hallway, headed straight for me.
I let out a gasp while Cohen laughed and steered the dog away, stopping him from mauling me. He held the dog’s wiggling body in place and scratched behind his ears. The dog’s tail walloped against my thigh.
“He tries to sleep in my bed, but I don’t usually let him. He’s a cover hog.” Cohen smiled.
“What the hell is he?” I took a step back so I was out of the firing line of his tail. He was an enormous fluff ball of curly apricot-colored fur.
“A Labradoodle. Non-shedding.”
“Oh.”A what-a-doodle?
Bob leapt onto the couch and flopped himself down onto the blankets I’d just arranged, lying with his head against the armrest as he got into a comfortable position.
Cohen chuckled at the sight of him. “Unless you’re a real dog lover and wouldn’t mind cuddling up with this guy, I suggest you come to my room.”
I had no desire to sleep on a couch that doubled as a dog bed, and nodded my consent.
Cohen led the way to his bedroom. It was large and tidy, with king-sized bed in the center. The roof pitched steeply on each side, giving it an intimate feel. He had one small chest of drawers and a single night table that held some loose change and an alarm clock.
His bed was unmade with charcoal gray sheets and a fluffy white down comforter. It looked very inviting.
Cohen studied me for a second. “Do you…need anything to wear?” He looked down at my jeans.
“Oh. No thanks.” I remembered I had on my sleeping shorts underneath the jeans, and began removing them.
Cohen dropped his eyes, seemingly uncomfortable with watching me undress. I folded my jeans neatly and laid them on the floor beside the bed. I started to crawl into the bed when Cohen’s hand on my elbow stopped me.
