Page 32 of On The Edge

And the large suite suddenly feels very cramped.

He did it to win this argument. Or to put a stop to it. There is no way in hell a man who looks like that—tanned and toned and utter perfection—doesn’t know he’s going to get a reaction when he does that.

His slow crawl of a grin says as much, but he bats his lashes like the perfect picture of innocence.

“I’m going to bed. It’s the easiest way to get rid of the jet lag. Sleep through the night.” He runs a hand through his hair, and it sets off a chain reaction of muscles contracting that should be illegal. “Wake up refreshed and all is good.”

“You’re not sleeping in the bed.”

He looks around the room and holds his hands up. “Where exactly do you expect me to sleep?”

“We could ask for a rollaway bed.”

“That would be in the press faster than you can blink. I can see the headlines now. Big fight between Cruz Navarro and his new lover. Cruz can’t satisfy his girlfriend, she asks for a separate bed. Should I go on?”

“A gentleman would offer to sleep on the floor.”

“Firstly, if I were a gentleman in any sense of that word, we wouldn’t be in this predicament in the first place. And secondly, me getting a good night’s rest is part of my job. It’s in my contract.”

I snort. “By the pictures I’ve seen of you, it doesn’t seem you follow that caveat much so why follow the first one?”

He hisses and pounds a fist to his chest. “I’m wounded. But I’m also flattered. You just admitted you were looking me up.”

“I don’t want you to be flattered. I want you to find a different bed. Some things should be sacred, right?”

“What are you afraid of? That you snore? That you talk in your sleep and you’re going to spill your deep, dark secrets about how you secretly want me? I mean—”

“Jesus,” I cough out.

“What? They’re valid points but not ones I’m concerned with.”

“Can’t it be nothing more than giving a girl some damn privacy?” I ask and turn back toward the view beyond.

“This hotel has a killer rooftop view. If you want privacy, that’s where I go.”

“The roof?” I ask, perplexed.

“Yep. We have access because this is the penthouse.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re telling me to go sleep on the roof.”

“I’m not saying shit.” He holds his hands up. “Just telling you a place where you can find that privacy if you need it.”

He’s missing the point. “That doesn’t help our current situation.”

“Again, this wasn’t my doing so we have to make do with what we have. And what we have . . . is one bed and a whole lot of time that we’re now forced to be together.” He moves toward me and puts his hands on my shoulders and squeezes. “We sure waste a lot of time doing this back-and-forth thing. We need to be more efficient at communicating.”

“You’re maddening.”

“I know.” He grins. I can see it in the reflection of the window. “So here’s the thing. I’ve seen you in a bikini on your socials. And I’m not complaining by any means, but there wasn’t a whole hell of a lot of fabric going on there. I assure you that whatever it is you sleep in, it’ll cover more than that bikini did.”

I open my mouth and then close it. Touché.

“That is unless you sleep naked. In that case, I’ll definitely be seeing more. But hey, you are in Europe now, where breasts are just breasts and not a big deal like you make them out to be in the States. But if that’s the case, I’ll have to ask you to cover up then because that would just be plain cruel to me if we’re on the you can look but not touch plan.”

His playful tone puts a smile on my lips. He seems to be a master at manipulation. At twisting a narrative to make you want to cave. It’s not a bad thing. It’s not even a devious thing. It’s just not something I’m used to.

“Yes.” I say the word rather forcefully. “That is exactly the plan we’re on.”