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But Dane is bigger.

“Show me your bedroom.”

His eyebrows lift.

“For logistical purposes.”

“Sure.”

“Stop making everything sound sexual.”

“Haven’t said anything sexual.”

“You do it with your face.”

That finally earns me a real smile. And I hate to admit that Dane smiling makes my tummy twist.

His bedroom is at the end of the hall. He opens the door. A massive king-size bed dominates the room.

I stare at it.

Dane looks at the mattress. Then at me. “It’s a big bed.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You brought it up.”

“I said you shouldn’t sleep on the couch.” I defend weakly.

“Problem solved.”

“No, a much bigger problem created.” I laugh.

His eyes move slowly down my body. “Could be.”

My stomach flips. “Separate bedrooms are in the contract.”

“Technically, it says separate sleeping accommodations.”

“Same thing.”

“Not really.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Been married six hours and you’re already complaining.”

“Well, you’re too big for the couch–”

“That bed is big enough for a family of four.” He points out.

I cross my arms, narrow my eyes, and then sigh. “Fine. But no funny business.”

He grins, nods, and then says: “Whatever you say, Mrs. Miller.”

I laugh, then flop into his bed, wondering what the hell I just got myself into with this man.

At two in the morning, the power flickers. Wind slams against the windows. I wake under a mountain of blankets and still feel cold. For several seconds, I don’t know where I am. Then lightning flashes.