I just want to go to bed.
Icando this.
Ihave todo this.
Slowly, I crack the door open and peer through the opening.
Son of a bitch.
Logan lies on top of the dark duvet, his long legs covered in black-jersey pajama bottoms stretched in front of him as he sits propped against the tufted headboard, shirtless, and with a book in his hands. He looks good. Too good.
Hell no. I refuse to think that way. Instead, I focus on the book.
“Oh, come on...” I grumble as I walk into the room.
Some women have a thing for athletes. I have a thing for men with brains. And seeing this one, shirtless, and with a book in his hands is a prettier picture than I want it to be.
His head whips my way, and his eyes grow hot before he blinks the heat away. “Nice shirt, Olive.”
“Sorry.” My cheeks flame involuntarily. “I left my pajamas in here, and this was hanging on the door.” I cross the room and toss my toiletry bag into the suitcase.
“I made room for you in the closet.” He closes his book and climbs out of bed, getting close.Too close.His arm reaches around me, somehow skimming my damp skin without actually touching me and yet still raising goosebumps in his wake as he pulls open the top drawer of the wheat-toned wooden dresser. “This side of the dresser too. If we’re doing this, you can’t live out of two bags and a suitcase for months.”
“Thanks.” I look from the open, empty drawer back to the man behind me...crowding me.“That was—” The words die on my tongue.
He’s too close.
“Nice, Olive. The word you’re looking for is nice,” he finishes for me, and my blood boils because he’s right. That was nice.
We have to be nice to each other.
Easier said than done.
“How’s your cousin anyway? Did you get it all taken care of?” Logan doesn’t back up as I root through my bag for my brush, and I’m all too aware of every single inch of space separating us and how none of that seems to matter as the heat from his body warms mine.
“He’ll be okay, but it’s far from over. I have to go back to Philadelphia tomorrow for a meeting with the Kings, but I’ll stop and file our motions first.” I spin around, expecting him to back up, but the ass stands there, sucking all the damn oxygen from the room, his massively muscular arms crossed over his broad,bare, golden chest. There’s no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing. I poke my finger against his chest. “We might be married, Adler, but I’m not sleeping with you.”
“I thought we talked about this last night, wife. You can sleep wherever you want, but I’m not giving you my bed.”
I muster every last ounce of strength I’ve got left and lean into him, leaving barely a breath of space between our mouths. “I’ll be right there, next to you in your bed,husband. Sleeping. So try to remember, if we want this to work, not to get any ideas of straying from your side to mine. Got it?”
His lips tilt up, and a hint of his dimple appears just as quickly as it vanishes.
Why do I like that dimple when I don’t even like him?
Slowly, as if giving me time to move, Logan tucks the wet strands of my hair behind my shoulder, and his grin grows. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Olive. I’ll keep to my side. The question is... do you think you can keep to yours?”
I’d like to wipe that stupid, sexy smirk right off his face with my fist, but words are so much more acceptable outside of my father’s gym.
“Absolutely.” I agree as my heart pounds in my head, and Logan’s eyes dilate.
This is not happening.
“Good,” he whispers. Close.Too close.“Then we’ll both keep our hands to ourselves.”
There’s no way this is going to end well.
“Deal?” He nods as if answering himself.
