Page 58 of Best In Class
I get into bed.
It’s a king.
It’s big.
He’ll sleep on one side and I on the other. There’s no need to be all queasy about this. We’re practical people. Right?
I sit up, the duvet covering me from the waist down. My nipples are perked up and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about that.
I pick up my laptop, which I had set aside on my bedside table, and open it. Looking away from him.
I hear a rustle of clothing and glance over. He’s unbuttoning his shirt.
I swallow and stare at the blank screen of my computer as if it holds the answer to every bad decision I’ve ever made—and can prevent me from making another one.
He shrugs off his shirt and throws it onhis sideof the bed.
I scowl. “Stop trying to make this weird.”
“Moonbeam, I’m literally just taking off my shirt.”
“You’re doing it like we’re inThe Notebook,” I grumble.
I don’t have to look at him to know he’s grinning like an asshole. “Moonbeam, you watch romcoms?”
“The Notebookisnota comedy,” I protest, doing a mental head slap.
Why am I engaging in conversation with shirtless Dom? This has disaster written all over it.
Wait until he takes his pants off!
“True. But I don’t have a boat, and it isn’t raining.”
I give him a withering look.
He removes the belt holding his dress pants like he’s auditioning forMagic Mike. No way in hell I’m bringing that up.
And just like that, Ginuwine’s “Pony” starts to play in my head.
His saddles waitin’…come and jump on it.
“Dom—"
“Yeah, baby.” He slowly,veryslowly, takes his belt off and then discards it so it lands with a clink on the bed.
I groan and throw a pillow at him. He catches it, smug as hell.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” I warn. “I still haven’t forgiven you for letting Camy show up at the gala like she was your plus-one and your destiny.”
Why am I telling him this? The gala was months ago? He doesn’t need to know it still bothers me.
He tosses the pillow back gently. “I asked you first. You said no.”
“She showed up in Versace and red lipstick, Dom.”
“She always shows up in Versace and red lipstick. I didn’t invite her. I told you she was with Tommy. You know Camy; subtlety is not part of her aesthetic.”
“Whatever!”
