Page 12 of The Mountain Man's Mail-Order Mafia Princess

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

His crooked smile appeared fully this time.

The full curve softened the hard line of his mouth and warmed his eyes.

A pulse beat between my thighs, and I crossed one leg over the other.

Jonah’s attention flicked toward the movement. He pushed away from the dresser, creating more space between us.

The extra distance left my skin no cooler.

“I’ll use the bathroom,” he said. “You can get settled.”

He took clean clothes from the dresser and left.

I climbed beneath the sheet and placed one pillow along the center of the bed.

It was not a barrier. It was a visual aid.

Jonah returned wearing gray boxer briefs and a plain black T-shirt that stretched across his chest. His bare feet made almost no sound against the wooden floor.

He looked at the pillow.

“Is that the emotional boundary?”

“It’s the physical one.”

“What happens if I cross it?”

“You won’t.”

“You sound confident.”

“I’m choosing optimism.”

He switched off the lamp and got into bed from the other side.

The mattress shifted under his weight. Warmth gathered beneath the sheet, and the cabin sounds became suddenlylouder: the fan near the window, insects outside, a soft creak in the wall.

Jonah lay on his back with both arms above the blanket.

I stayed on my side.

The pillow remained between us.

“This is manageable,” I said.

“Were you asking me?”

“I was reinforcing the thought.”

“Do you need me to agree?”

“No.”