Chapter 10 #3
He shrugged, then pulled the cream blanket off the end of the bed and grabbed a pillow. “What’s yours is mine, rakas. Better me on the floor than you convincing yourself the bathtub is a reasonable alternative to a bed.”
I squeezed my eyes shut because damn him. Fight or flight was very much telling me that returning to the safety of the bathroom was still an option, but now that he’d said it aloud, I couldn’t.
“You’re big,” I said, then blushed furiously when Mikko’s lips turned up into a smirk. “I mean, it’s big. The bed. Your bed.”
He walked toward me, pillow and blanket still in his grip. “I am big, yes. But the bed is yours.”
When he turned to walk by me, I reached out and grabbed his arm, stilling him. His skin was warm under mine, the muscles in his forearm making my hand look tiny, only proving his point.
“It’s a large bed,” I said, then wanted to slap myself in the face. Why was I pushing this? And why was the idea of Mikko getting a terrible night’s sleep worse than how uncomfortable this whole thing made me? “We’ll survive one night.”
“Okay.” His shoulders relaxed, but mine absolutely did not.
We climbed into bed with enough empty mattress between us to comfortably fit another adult, but it still felt impossibly close.
Neither of us said much as we settled against the headboard.
Mikko picked his book back up, decidedly not looking at me while I reached for my tablet, determined to lose myself in literally anyone else’s problems.
Between growing up with a revolving door of terrible male role models and a high school boyfriend I’d spent the better part of a decade regretting, I’d never actually slept in a bed with a man before.
Not like this.
Mikko, on the other hand, seemed completely unbothered.
Every few minutes he’d quietly turn another page, the bookshelves lining the wall making it painfully obvious he wasn’t doing this to impress me. Those shelves were full of worn paperbacks and cracked spines, stories that had clearly been read more than once.
Stupid me for finding that hotter than the glasses and muscles and sweatpants combined.
I opened the romance I’d started last week, determined to focus on someone besides the broad-shouldered hockey player sharing my bed. Three pages in, I’d mentally replaced the dark-haired single dad cowboy with a blond Finnish hockey player carrying a toddler on one hip.
Absolutely not.
Back to my library, clicking on a fantasy instead.
Fantasy was safe.
Until a Viking warrior stepped through a portal in time.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
Another swipe.
Marriage of convenience.
Nope.
Forced proximity.
Definitely not.
One bed.
I closed my eyes. “Seriously?”
“What?”
I nearly dropped my tablet at the sound of his voice, having both forgotten he was here and painfully aware of every breath we shared.
“Oh.” Heat crept into my cheeks. “Nothing.”
His eyes lingered on me for a second before he went back to reading.
I gave up on romance altogether and downloaded the first murder mystery I could find—someone getting stabbed felt refreshingly low stakes compared to my life.
A while later, Mikko slid a bookmark between the pages of his paperback before setting it on the nightstand. He folded his glasses on top, reached over, and switched off the lamp. “Goodnight, Shannon.”
“Night.”
Darkness settled over his side of the room while the soft glow of my tablet illuminated mine. Within minutes, his breathing evened out. Lucky bastard. Meanwhile, I spent the next several hours becoming intimately acquainted with every inch of a California king mattress.
I read the first chapter of the murder mystery. Then the second. Then realized I couldn’t tell you a single thing that had happened because I’d been too busy wondering if Mikko was even asleep.
I rolled onto my left side. Then my right.
Fluffed my pillow.
Kicked one foot out from under the comforter before pulling it back underneath again.
Read another chapter.
Started another.
Somewhere around the point where the detective found a second body, the baby monitor crackled, a tiny whimper drifting through the speaker.
Mikko reacted before I had fully registered the sound. One second he was asleep, the next he was sitting upright. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, then paused when his gaze landed on the tablet still glowing in my hands.
“You haven’t slept?”
I looked over, gripping my tablet so hard like it held the last of my sanity. “Good book. You know how it goes.”
His eyes flicked from the tablet to my face. “...Mm.”
He didn’t press me on it. Didn’t challenge the lie I’d told, even though I promised I wouldn’t lie to him. But the one eyebrow raised told me he didn’t buy it either.
He simply padded quietly toward Leena’s room, easing the bedroom door shut behind him.
I looked back down at the same paragraph I’d been reading at for the last twenty minutes. Sure, I’d married a man I’d barely knew. Shared a bed with him, even. But it wasn’t fear keeping me awake. It was the terrifying realization that Mikko wasn’t like any man I’d ever met before.