“There’s no way you’ll fit on that couch. The bed is big enough for the two of us.” He rubs a hand over his jaw. “It isn’t.” “It’s a king-size bed.” His gaze lingers over my face, then down to my cleavage, peeking through my slip. “If I get in that bed, I’m going to ask to fuck you, and you’ll say yes, and we’ll make up an excuse that it’s to ‘break the tension’; then . . .” He stops, an eyebrow raising. “You want that?” My throat prickles with the word yes. “No.”
