Page 48 of Big Dick Energy

“And you're…”

“Six four, yeah, I know.” He tried tucking his legs up, which only made things worse. Now he looked like a very muscular pretzel. “It's fine.”

“It's clearly not fine. You're folded up like a camping chair.” I moved into the room, crossing my arms.

“I've slept in worse places. Airport floors. Locker rooms.” He shifted again, and I heard his back pop. “This is luxury.”

“Your spine is literally curved like a question mark.”

“A very comfortable question mark.”

“Dallas…”

“Davina, I'm fine. Go get your water and go to sleep. I'll survive.” He closed his eyes like that settled it, but I could see the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders were hiked up by his ears, the slight grimace he couldn't hide.

This was ridiculous. We were both adults who could make reasonable decisions. Well, mostly reasonable decisions. We could share a bed platonically without it being weird.

I took a deep breath and said the words that I would definitely, absolutely, one hundred percent regret in the morning.

“Just come sleep in the bed.”

His eyes flew open. “What?”

“The bed. It's enormous. It could fit three people and still have room for a Saint Bernard.” I waved my hand dismissively. “It's ridiculous for you to suffer on the couch when there's a perfectly good king-sized mattress.”

He sat up fully now, running a hand through his hair in a way that made his bicep flex. “Are you sure?”

No. Absolutely not. This was potentially the worst idea I'd had since agreeing to this fake marriage in the first place.

“I'm sure,” I lied smoothly, lifting my chin. “But you're taking the side closest to the door. If anyone breaks in, you're the first line of defense. I'll use you as a human shield.”

“That's very strategic of you.”

“I'm full of good ideas.” I turned toward the bedroom. “Come on, husband. Let's go not sleep together.”

“That's the worst innuendo I've ever heard,” he called after me, but I could hear the smile in his voice.

“Then come on before I change my mind and leave you to become one with that couch.”

I heard him stand up behind me with a grunt of relief, his joints probably celebrating their freedom, and heard his footsteps following mine down the hallway.

This was fine. We were adults. Mature adults.

I climbed into the bed first, sticking to my side, positioning myself as close to the edge as I could without falling off, leaving approximately three feet of no-man’s-land between my territory and his.

Dallas followed a moment later, the mattress dipping under his weight as he settled onto his side. Heat radiated off him, and I could hear every breath he made in the quiet room. My entire body was on high alert, every nerve ending on fire.

This was fine. Everything was fine. We were just two fake spouses sharing a bed. My heart was racing for no reason.

A soft snore cut through my spiral of anxiety.

I froze, listening.

Another snore.

I turned my head slowly, like I was trying not to spook a wild animal.

His face was relaxed, peaceful, his breathing deep and even. His lips were slightly parted, one arm tucked under the pillow, the other resting on his stomach.