Page 96 of Red Marked

She looks back at the television.

“Isn’t the pressure great?” she asks.

“Excellent.”

I pick up my pillow, then grab the folded blanket in the tiny closet. I drop them both onto the strip of carpet between the bed and the wall.

“What are you doing?” she asks, frowning.

“Making a bed.”

“We talked about this, Flint.” She rolls onto her side and props her head on her hand. Her breasts in that tank have my dick thinking about getting hard again.

What the fuck?!

“You can’t even lie flat down there. You’ll have to sleep on your side, and your feet will be in the bathroom,” she tells me, sitting up.

“I’ve slept in worse.” I shrug. “I’ll be fine.”

“I bet you have. Doesn’t mean you have to tonight.”

“I don’t think we should share the bed. It’s too small for both of us.”

“And I told you it isn’t a big deal. We’re adults.”

“That bed is tiny.” I point at it. “You’re about to be my staff member. We will end up spooning.”

“So what?” She gives me a look. “I don’t see the problem, Flint. It won’t mean anything. You’re being weird.”

“The problem is that I’m attracted to you.” It just comes out before I can stop it. I wish I could take it back, but I can’t.

Actually, it’s better that she knows.

“Oh.” Her eyes go wide. “Um…okay. Yeah…well…”

“Listen…” My voice is far too deep. I run a hand through my hair. “You have nothing to worry about, though. Let’s not make this weird. I find you attractive, so I’d rather not share a bed. I don’t plan on so much as touching you or being inappropriate in any way. It’s not a line I’ll ever cross.”

“I know that.” She gives a little snort-laugh, and it’s fucking adorable.

“I think sharing a bed would be inappropriate, that’s all.”

“I still don’t think it’s that big a deal. But…fine. I get it.”

Thank fuck!

“I’m going to take the floor. You’re too big.” Her eyes drop to my dick and then quickly back to my face.

Shit!

We definitely can’t share a bed.

No way.

“No, I’ll manage,” I tell her, my voice still gruff. “It isn’t right when I’m the one who⁠—”

“You can’t fit on that tiny strip of floor.” She’s already sliding off the mattress, all long, tanned legs and white cotton, and she picks up the pillow I put down and hugs it to her chest.

“I’m the one being difficult,” I insist.