“You got rid of it,” I say flatly.
“Yeah. Called the front desk and told them we didn’t need all this excess bedding taking up space and they came and took itaway.” An arrogant smirk quirks the corner of her lips. “Looks like you’re sharing the bed with me after all, old man.”
Craning my neck from side to side, I suck in a deep, centering breath through my nose. “Fine.”
I storm over to the dresser for more clothes because my plan to strip down to my boxers as soon as I was safely tucked under the blanket in the living room is now shot to hell. She’s forced my hand.
I yank a t-shirt over my bare chest, spinning toward Gretchen when I hear her restrained cackle. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”
Her laughter whirls out of control. If I wasn’t so panicked, I might stop and appreciate how beautiful she is right now. “Oh my God. You are really worked up over this.”
“It’s your funeral.” I rip back the covers and climb into the bed, intentionally and very strategically positioning myself as close to the edge of the mattress as I can, away from the pillow barricade and away from Gretchen Fisher.
Still amused by my dramatics, her laughter subsides. “Are you planning to smother me?”
“It’s possible.”
“Drama queen,” she singsongs.
I raise a single finger in the air, declaring, “I sleep like a starfish,” and a second finger, “I’m a chronic cuddler,” third finger goes up, “and my body’s a fucking furnace.”
“So putting onmoreclothes made complete sense.” Her words drip with delighted sarcasm at my predicament.
“Need I remind you of the…state…you found me in this morning?”
Stifling another laugh, she bites her lip as she adjusts her glasses. “Oh, I remember.”
I throw my head back and slap a hand over my face as I imagine all the possibilities of what this night might bring. We may not survive this.
Gretchen reaches over the mountain of down and cotton that separates us and pulls a hand away from my face before releasing it. “Take a breath. It’s gonna be fine.”
“Listen,” I begin, worry edging my voice, “I don’t know what’s going to happen tonight, so I just want to say in advance that I’m sorry and I didn’t mean to do it.”
I can’t see her face but for the flicker of light from the television illuminating the room. The glee in her voice, though? Yeah, that’s unmistakable. “And what, pray tell, do you think is gonna happen?”
“I’m glad my misery is so amusing to you.”
“Me too,” she cackles.
“Gretchen.” My hands are back on my face, then yanking at the ends of my hair.God, is it hot in here?I’m already sweating. “I don’t know, okay? I could wake up tomorrow buck naked with my head or my hands literally anywhere.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” she says as she turns off the television, shrouding this torture chamber some might call a bedroom in darkness.
This is it. This is where I die.
Chapter Twenty-Four
HE HEARS EVERYTHING I DON’T SAY
Gretchen
Sunlight peeks through curtains,slowly stirring me to consciousness. I grab my glasses from the nightstand and when my eyes come into focus, so do the rest of my senses.
A solid chest pressed up against me. A bare leg hiked over my hip. Warm, lazy breaths coasting over my collarbone. A forehead wedged in the crook of my neck. A giant man hand smack dab on top of my left boob.
Wait, what?
Connor’s everything draped all over me.
