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Luckily, I woke up enough to collect pajamas while he used the bathroom. Then we switched.
I flip the light off too early, and struggle for a moment with the door handle.
The door pops open. “Ope!” I hop back, almost opening it into my face.
Focusing on acting normal, I step out of the bathroom.
Instead of being in bed, King is standing next to it, about to get in.
He really is handsome.
King pauses, and his eyes narrow. “What the fuck are you wearing?”
I look down, tugging at the front of my 3xl men’s t-shirt, that goes to my knees, to make sure I grabbed the right thing. I did.
“My pajamas,” I say, as my eyes glance around the room.
Yeah, this is the bedroom. It’s the right place to wear pajamas.
“Savannah.” King sounds like he’s talking through his teeth.
I bite my teeth together. Testing the feel of it.
I don’t like it.
Remembering how tired I am, I hurry to the bed and scramble onto the mattress. Burrowing under the blankets quickly.
“Savannah.” The way King says my name makes me roll onto my side to face him.
“Yeah?” I pull the comforter up to my chin.
“Whose shirt is that?”
I think about the faded logo for the local football team plastered across my chest. “It’s mine.”
King leans down, placing his palms on the mattress. “If that shirt belonged to another man, I’m going to rip it off your fucking body.”
“Rip,” I repeat the word, popping the P.
My husband’s face makes a funny expression, and I make the popping sound again.
“Sav––”
“Has anyone ever told you, you look like a lion?” Hands still on the bed, King hangs his head forward, his shoulders hunching, making him look even more like a big cat. “Your eyes,” I clarify, in case he’s frustrated about not understanding.
His head lifts, those cat-like eyes boring into mine. “Where did you get that man’s t-shirt?”
Oh, we’re back to this. “Target.”
“You bought it?” He looks skeptical.
I nod.
“For yourself?”
I nod again. “It’s soft.”
“Why wouldn’t you buy women’s pajamas? I’m sure they have soft ones.”
