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CHAPTER10
Elena
“You’re not sleeping on the fucking floor,” he repeats.
Like he gets a say in what I’m doing. I ignore his statement. “I need something to wear for bed,” I mutter.
He’s glaring at my back, his anger written clearly on his face. He’s not happy about my suggestion, but what else are we supposed to do? We can’t share a bed, and there’s no sofa or chair in the room. The floor is the only option.
Kane moves over to the wardrobe and tears it open. My overnight bag is on the bottom of it. Relieved, I move over to it. I feel bared to him, and I hate it. I don’t have a problem with nudity, and it’s not as if he’s the first person to ever see my boobs, but this is different.
He’s your husband…
He is, but that doesn’t mean he gets access to my most private areas. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
I go down to my haunches and rummage through my bag, finding one of my t-shirts I packed to go home in. It’s a battered band tee, with faded writing on the front and a list of tour dates on the back. I slip it on, aware it barely covers the tiny thong I’m wearing, but at least my tits are covered.
When I turn back around, Kane is staring out of the window, his stance tight as his hands fist in his pockets.
“I’m dressed. You can… look now.”
He doesn’t move for a moment, then he gives me his attention. “Can we get back to the part about you sleeping on the floor?”
“We can’t share a bed, Kane.”
He stares at me, and I wonder what the fuck is going through his mind in this moment. “Why not? It’s just a bed.”
“It’s just a little weird. We only just got married.”
“You are my wife, Elena.”
“I know that.”
“My wife does not sleep on the fucking floor like a dog.”
I drop my hands to my hips. “And how do I know you’re going to keep your fucking hands to yourself while you’re in the bed with me?”
His mouth pulls into a disgusted sneer. “You think I’d force you?”
Oh shit.
He looks fucking homicidal as he glares at me. I should back down, but my own apprehension makes my tongue loose.
“You have a reputation, Kane. I have no idea what to expect from you.”
His nostrils flare, making him look like an angry bull. “I’m not a fucking rapist, Elena. Fucking hell.”
“I never said that—”
“That’s exactly what you said. Maybe you should sleep in a different fucking room.”
Neither of us move, because that’s not an option. People will talk. Our alliance has to look secure.
I take a steadying breath. This isn’t getting us anywhere. “I don’t know you,” I say softly. “I’m freaked out, okay?”
This seems to ease some of the rage rolling through him. “I understand that.”
“I just wasn’t sure what your expectations for tonight are.”
