At his side, his hand clenched in a fist. I exhaled in a huff. “I know, I know, it’s not ideal. You hate change and surprises, and now you have to share your bed with your wife who you do not find even remotely attractive.” “Don’t put words into my mouth, Greer,” he cut in. “That’s not what I said.” His voice, so low and rough and charged, had my mouth going dry. He was right. In my nerve-laden babbling, I’d said the words without thinking. “What did you say then?” I asked evenly. He gave me a long, unreadable look. “Not that,” he finally answered.
