“Come to bed,” he urges, not backing down. “I am in bed,” I grumble back stubbornly. “The big bed, Sloane.” “Seriously, get fucked, Gervais. Go snuggle with your secrets, you exhausting, broody asshole. I’m not leaving this mattress. I’m putting my foot down.” I peek at him over my shoulder, and he gives me a little smirk. “There she is.” “Yes,” I huff, turning away and hearing the mattress creak. “Here I am.”
