A lot of things have happened recently that I never expected, but sleeping in Henry’s room might be the icing on the cake. Actually, I think making a sex to-do list should be at the top of that list. Also, Henry kissing me out of nowhere earlier tonight to tell me he thinks my smile is beautiful, too?
It’s like I’m in a goddamn romance book.
Actually, what if I bring a book to bed? Then it seems like I’m not expecting anything from that list to happen tonight, simply because we’re supposed to sleep in the same room.
“Ready to go to bed?” Henry asks, scratching the back of his neck. Shit, now I don’t want him to be nervous. I need confident Henry who told me to use him however I wanted.
Wait—I’m fucking confident too.
“Yeppers,” I say, immediately cringing. Why did I say it like that?
I grab my empty glass, tempted to pour another drink before I go to Henry’s room. Henry Freaking Price’s room! I can’t believe this.
Setting the glass in the sink, I take the initiative, looking at Henry over my shoulder to see if he’s following.
Instead, he’s looking at my ass.
Good. It’s a good ass.
“Are you coming?”
Henry cracks a slanted smile, laughing shortly. “Yeah, I guess so.”
I let out a shaky exhale after turning away, realizing what a phony I am. I falter in front of the door, but I push through and step into his room. I don’t think I’ve been in his room long enough to look around. Sure, I’ve stood in the doorway, or I guess if I needed something, I’d walk in, ask for it, and then leave.
Not tonight, I guess.
I stand there awkwardly for a moment, and Henry grabs a pillow, dropping it on the floor next to the bed. “You can have the bed, I’ll take the floor.”
“No, you don’t have to do that,” I protest, kicking into action to pick up the pillow from the floor to put it back on the bed, only to grab a different one for myself. “It’s your bed, Henry. I’m not going to kick you out of it—especially when you have a game this weekend. I’ll sleep on the floor,” I insist, and Henry shakes his head, moving to take the pillow from me.
“My house, my rules.”
“You can take your rules and shove them up your ass,” I say, plopping my amazing ass on the ground stubbornly. “You take the bed. I will take the floor.”
Henry looks down at me, his face turning into one of amusement. “No.”
“I’ll get up if you tell me what happened at the football game with Duke,” I bargain, and Henry frowns.
“No, I’m not telling you that.”
“Then I guess I’m sleeping on the floor,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.
Henry drags a hand through his dark hair. “Mira, you’re a woman, take the bed and let me take the floor.”
I raise my eyebrows in surprise. “Oh, so you think because you’re a man, you’re superior to me?”
“That’s not what I said,” he argues, but I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what he said. “I’m trying to do the right thing and give you the bed.”
If I were standing up, I’d stomp my foot at that, so maybe it’s a good thing I’m sitting on the floor.
“I don’t need you to do the right thing. I need you to not be a sexist man and to tell me what happened tonight. Get in the goddamn fucking bed, Henry.”
“Has anyone ever told you how bossy you are?” he asks, and I scowl up at him.
“Va te faire foutre.”24
“Volontiers,”25 Henry replies.
