Page 110 of Buckin' Around

I will not be told what to do. My choices are fir?—

A warm, large body wraps around me from behind. My feet leave the floor, and I’m swung over Spencer’s shoulder like a sack of goddamn potatoes.

“Put me down,” I stage-whisper, not wanting to wake Ives.

My fists pummel into the small of his back, and I feel every muscle in his torso flex as he moves under my weight.

“Spencer fecking Lockwood, I saidno.”

“Yeah, I know. But you have to stop fighting eventually, Riles. Besides, all that AC for one person doesn’t feel right.”

This time as we cross the bedroom threshold, I’m hauled from his shoulder and tossed airborne.

My back meets the mattress, and I try to catch my breath as Spencer comes to stand by the bed, as if he’s waiting for me to make another run for it and will block any and all attempts.

I cross my arms and stare up at him through the dim light.

Leaning back, he uses his good arm to swing the door almost shut. “Can’t let out that precious AC,” I utter, the urge to roll my eyes so strong right now.

“Or the precious cargo.” Spencer is imitating my pose, arms crossed, and I can just see one eyebrow cocked as he waits for me to slide under the sheet.

“Fine. But you get all handsy on me again, or end up naked...”

He leans down, until our faces are almost touching. “O’Malley, the last thing I’m going to give you is what you want.”

My mouth pops open as my brows snap down. But he’s rounding the end of the bed and climbing under the sheet before I can form a response. Rolling over to face the window, Spence gives me his back. His gorgeous, muscled back.

He’s messing with my head?

Or maybe he’s doing exactly what he said he’s doing, sharing the air conditioning.

Did I miss my opportunity?

I swallow past the emotion in my throat.

And why am I upset about it?

When I wake, the room is still dark. And I’m freezing.

How cold does this man keep his air conditioner?

I’m shivering under the thin sheet, hugging my arms around my body, almost rattling the velvet scrunchie from my messy bun.

I manage to roll over, teeth chattering, to find Spencer sprawled out on the bed. His bare chest rises and falls, not a goosebump to be seen on his toned body.

With a harrumph, I poke the sleeping man beside me.

With a groan, he cracks one eye. “Hey. What’s up?”

Rubbing my hands up and down my arms, I stutter, “Your arctic temperature, that’s what. Why is the duvet not on the bed? Do you have a blanket or something?”

Squeezing his eyes shut, he shakes his head and sits up. “Which question am I answering first?”

“Blanket, Spence. I’m freezing.”

“They’re stored in Ivy’s room. Her wardrobe is bigger. Plus, we had to share, remember.”

He goes to rise from the bed, and I grab his arm. “No, don’t wake her. I’ll live.”