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He chuckles. “Oh, you do, huh? Okay, let’s hear them.”
He sways us gently as he holds me close. His body heat warms me.
“I get to keep my art room.”
“That’s a given,” he agrees. “It’s more work to move everything out anyway.”
I smack his chest, and he catches my hand, not releasing it.
His thumb strokes my wrist. “What else?”
“I keep my bedroom.”
His brow furrows. “Why would you want to do that? Did you miss the part where I want you in my bed every night?”
“I think it would be good for both of us. That way, if one of us needs space, we have it.”
“I don’t need space,” he insists.
“You might,” I argue.
“I don’t need space,” he reiterates, his tone hardening. Then, he sighs and glances away. “Fine, keep your bedroom. But you aren’t staying in there.”
I smile.
“Anything else?” he asks.
“That’s all.” My smile widens triumphantly. “For now at least.”
Sam gets a mischievous look on his handsome face. I see a flash of what he must’ve looked like as a rebellious child. “I have some rules of my own.”
My brows arch. “Oh? I’m a little scared to ask.”
“You have nothing to fear, Doe.”
“Let me hear it,” I say, reaching up to kiss his delectable lips when I can’t resist any longer.
He groans. “I want you naked on my bed in about five seconds …”
“Is that one of your rules?” I tease.
He smirks. “I might make it one.” He grows serious, refocusing. “Okay. Rule number one: you have to wear that drapey, off-the-shoulder shirt at least once a week.”
I roll my eyes. “My painting shirt?”
He nods.
“That’s easy to agree to. I prefer to wear it when I work, and it looks like I’ll be painting a lot more now. Number two?”
“I want you to travel with me to away games still.”
“Sam, I can’t drop everything and travel with you all the time. I’ll never get any work done.”
His mouth drops into a pout.
“I will sometimes,” I acquiesce. “But when I decide it’s a good time.”
“When we decide,” he amends.
