“No. Are you drunk?”
“I’m notdrunk,” he says carefully as if to say he’s not drunk, but he’ssomething. He tugsThumbelinaoff the coffee table. “Did you read it?”
I’m annoyed to admit I did, and it didn’t take long to realize that the reference was a jab at my size. However, with the marriage themes, it was hard not to make parallels to my own life and wonder if there was more he was trying to say. “If I’m Thumbelina, which one does that make you?”
His lip quirks. “That’s obvious, isn’t it?”
“I was thinking you’re like the mole keeping me from the sun,” I say, knowing he means he’s the prince. He chuckles. “Or maybe the cockroach or the toad.”
“Definitely not the cockroach.” My brow furrows as I dissect that. His gaze seems to drift over me pointedly. Not the cockroach because…the cockroach said Thumbelina was ugly? A flush works over my face. No, there must be something else he means. Finally, he looks away, setting the book back on the table.
“The kind of monster I am doesn’t exist in this tale,” he says gruffly.
I puzzle over that as we dissolve back into silence. Even if he were the prince like in the tale no one is going to come down and give me wings so I can better fit into this place. Or in my case—magic.
After a time, I lean forward to find him sound asleep. What the hell? I’m not sleeping out here with him.
If he’s going to encroach on my space, then I’ll encroach on his. Draping the blanket around my shoulders, I creep to his bedroom and crawl into his bed, purposely angling my body crossways in case he gets any ideas about joining me here.
I expect him to be gone by the time I wake again, but he’s still sound asleep, fully clothed, legs dangling over the arm of the sofa in a position that looks less than comfortable. Moving quietly, I pluck my current book from the coffee table and slip back into his bed.
I jolt when he appears in the doorway sometime later, scanning over where I’m perched against the headboard. “Sleep well?” he asks, voice thick with sleep.
“I did. You?” I fight back a smirk as I peer over the top of my book.
“Not particularly.” He stretches his back with a groan. “I don’t know how you handle sleeping on that thing every night. You really don’t have to, you know.”
“The alternatives are less than preferable.”
“Thought you weren’t scared of me?” He prowls forward, and I shrink back, but he bypasses me to open the drawer of his nightstand, jostling the assortment of items before drawing out a small vial.
“I’m not scared of you. I just don’t want to sleep with you.”
It’s only when he flashes me a smirk that I remember the alternate meaning behind that statement and my cheeks color. “You know we can sleep together withoutsleeping together.”
“That’s not even what I meant,” I say hastily.
He starts tugging off his shirt, and I panic, debating whether I should flee, yet I can’t bring myself to move out from under the safety of the blankets. “Oh, you meant you don’t want to sleepnextto each other,” he chides, tone playful.
“Exactly.”
“So there’s still a chance on the other thing?”
My mouth pops open.
He flashes me a grin as he starts peeling away his pants.
“That’s not—“ Words evade me as heat scours me. Suddenly, I feel smothered—not the least bit safe under these blankets. He laughs, turning his back to me as he thumbs through his wardrobe. “You have no shame,” I say hoarsely once I’ve recovered myself.
I hide my face behind my book, eyes stealing glimpses of the symbols across the defined planes of his back. His shoulder muscles flex as he scans through the wardrobe. He has a very…nice back.Very…well formed.
I snap my eyes away as he turns around and begins tugging on his pants. “Oh, that’s right. We should all be covered from head to toe and full of shame if anyone so much dares to look at—“ he pauses to slap his hand over his mouth and gasps dramatically. “Our face!”
A giggle spills out of me, and I clamp a hand over my mouth. He looks dazed as if he can’t believe such a sound has come out of me, before his mouth twists.
God, I’m encouraging him.
I need to get out of here. I scramble out of the bed and bolt toward the door, turning back once more with the intention of sending him a parting scowl. He flashes me a grin broader than any of his I’ve seen before, his tongue skirting the bottom of those two slightly crooked teeth. It washes over me like a haze that scrambles my thoughts, and instead of scowling, I end upgrinning like a fucking idiot.
