only way we’ll figure this out, unless you plan to work less. It’s unorthodox, but being married to a workaholic has forced my creative hand, so to speak.”
It was definitely creative, he’d give her that, and hit him where it hurt—right where all the guilt lived. If he wanted her to be happy in this marriage and stick with him, he had to prove it.
Her logic left him no good reason not to say yes. Except for the fact that it was insane.
Her seductive brown eyes sucked him in. “What are you going to do, Leo?”
Somehow, she made it sound as if he held all the cards. As if all he had to do was whisper a few romantic phrases in her ear and she’d be putty in his hands. If only it was that easy.
And then she shoved the knife in a little further. “Try it. What’s the worst that can happen?”
He groaned as several sleepless nights in a row hit him like a freight train. “I’m certain we’re about to find out.”
Fatigue and a strong desire to avoid his wife’s backup plan if he said no—that was his excuse for stripping down to a T-shirt and boxer shorts and getting into bed next to a woman who blinded him with lust by simply breathing. Whom he’d agreed not to touch.
Just to make her happy. Just for a few days. Just to prove he wasn’t weak.
He fell into instant sleep.
* * *
Dannie woke in the morning quite pleased but quite uncomfortable from a night of clinging to the edge of the bed so she didn’t accidentally roll over into Leo’s half. Or into Leo.
She’d probably tortured him enough.
But her will wasn’t as strong as she thought, not when her husband lay mere feet away, within touching distance, breathing deeply in sleep. The alarm on his phone had beeped, like, an hour ago, but hadn’t produced so much as a twitch out of Leo. Who was she to wake him when he obviously needed to sleep? A good wife ensured her husband was well rested.
The view factored pretty high in the decision, too.
Goodness. He was so gorgeous, dark lashes frozen above his cheekbones, hair tousled against the pillow.
How in the world had she convinced him to sleep in the same bed with her and agree to hold off on intimacy? She’d thought for sure they’d have a knock-down-drag-out and then he’d toss her out—bound and determined to ignore his own needs, needs he likely didn’t even recognize. But instead of cutting himself off from her again, he’d waded right into the middle of things like she’d asked, bless him.
Because his actions spoke louder than words, and his wife was an ace at interpreting what lay beneath.
If this bedroom sharing worked out the way she hoped, they’d actually talk. Laugh over a sitcom. Wake up together. Then maybe he’d figure out he was lying to himself about what he really wanted from this marriage and realize just how deeply involved he already was.
They’d have intimacy—physically and mentally. She couldn’t wait.
She eased from the bed and took a long shower, where she fantasized about all the delicious things Leo would do when he finally seduced her. It was coming. She could feel it.
And no matter how much she wanted it, anticipated it, she sensed she could never fully prepare for how earthshaking their ultimate union would truly be.
When she emerged from the bathroom, Leo was sitting up, rubbing the back of his neck, and her mouth went dry. Even in a T-shirt, he radiated masculinity.
“Good morning,” she called cheerfully.
“What happened to my alarm?” He did not look pleased.
“I turned it off after listening to it chirp for ten minutes.”
“Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“I tried,” she lied and fluttered her lashes. “Next time would you like me to be a little more inventive?”
“No.” He scowled, clearly interpreting her question to mean she’d do it in the dirtiest, sexiest way she could envision.
“I meant with a glass of water in your face. What did you think I meant?”
He rolled his eyes. “So this is what roommates do?”
“Yes. Until you want to be something else.”
With that, she flounced out the door to check off the last few items on the list for Tommy Garrett’s party. It was tomorrow night and it was going to be spectacular if she had to sacrifice her Louboutins to the gods of party planning to ensure it.
Leo came downstairs a short while later, actually said goodbye and went to work.
When he strolled into the bedroom that evening, the hooded, watchful gaze he shot her said he’d bided his time all day, primed for the showdown about to play out.
“Busy?” he asked nonchalantly.
Dannie carefully placed the e-reader in her hand on the bedside table and crossed her arms over her tank top. What was it about that look on his face that made her feel as if she’d put on Elise’s red-hot wedding night set? “Not at all. By the way, I picked up your dry cl—”
“Good.” He threw his messenger bag onto the Victorian settee in the corner and raked piercing blue eyes over her, all the way to her toes tucked beneath a layer of Egyptian cotton. They heated, despite the flimsy barrier, and the flush spread upward at an alarming rate to spark at her core.
What had she been talking about?
He shed his gray pin-striped suit jacket and then his tie. “You caught me at a disadvantage last night. I had a few other things on my mind, so I missed a couple of really important points about this new sleeping arrangement.”
Her relocation project had just blown up in her face. He was good and worked up over it.
“Oh? Which ones?” The last syllable squeaked out more like a dolphin mating call than English as he dropped his pants, then slowly unbuttoned his crisp white shirt. What had she done to earn her very own male stripper? Because she’d gladly do it fourteen more times in a row.
“For starters, what happens if I don’t keep my hands to myself?”
The shirt hit the floor and her jaw almost followed. Her husband had quite the physique hidden under his workaholic shell.
So maybe he wasn’t mad. But what was he?
Clad in only a pair of briefs, Leo yanked the covers back and slid into his side of the bed. She peeled her gaze from his well-defined chest and refixed it on his face, which was drawn up in a slight smirk, as if he’d guessed the direction of her thoughts. Her cheeks flamed.
“I’ll scold you?” She swallowed as he casually lounged on his pillow, head propped on his hand as if settling in for a nice, long chat instead of using those hands to do something far more...intimate. “I mean, it wouldn’t be very sporting of you.”
“Noted.”
