My gall apparently amused him, judging by the smile he wore as he walked past me to the bed. He threw back the covers and climbed in as if it were his own, resting against the worn out, antique headboard, hands clasped behind his head like he was about to be arrested.
He better not be hoping for handcuffs…
He dropped his gaze to the empty space beside him. My bed was only a full sized so there wasn’t a lot of empty space, period. I shot him a look that made him laugh, then watched as his abs danced, counting the lines they formed as he did.
I didn’t know there were eight-packs.
“Eyes up, Ruby,” he said jokingly.
I flushed with embarrassment, having been caught in the act.
“There’s not enough bed for the both of us,” I protested. “You’re sleeping on the floor.”
“But we’re not sleeping remember? You wanted to know what just happened,” he reminded me.
Damn he’s tricky.
I sighed and walked around to the far side of the bed; there was no way I was crawling over him. I climbed in, barely clearing the edge to sit as far away from him as possible. Laying down, I pulled the blanket up as far as I could then closed my eyes. I was sure he was chuckling on the inside, but I had no intentions of staring across my bed at him while we had our chat. I may have been pissed off with him that night, but my ability to recall that fact seemed to falter in direct relation to his skin exposure.
