It feels strange putting a kid to bed.
Karina kisses him goodnight, and I gesture for her to follow me when she’s done.
Her brow furrows, but she relents, her feet soft against the marble flooring as she heads out into the hallway with me. I quietly close the bedroom door behind us.
“Am I sharing a bed with my son?” she asks. “I thought you’d have two rooms for us.”
“There are two rooms. One for your little boy and the other for us.”
She swallows, and I watch her tug her lip between her teeth. “Us?” her voice croaks.
It’s sweet.
Almost endearing.
I’m waiting for her to fight me, insist that she have her own separate bedroom, or threaten to cause me bodily harm. She certainly seems capable.
“Is this your idea of a joke?” She folds her arms across her chest. It’s her defensive posture. I’ve seen it enough times in the past twenty-four with her that I know when she’s pissed.
I tend to piss her off a lot.
“No. I asked Alessandro for an additional room, and he denied the request. Said that we’re married, he expects us to share a bed.”
She drops her hands at her sides and steps closer toward me. “I’m not sleeping with you.”
“I wasn’t asking you to sleep with me, Micetta.” I’d never force a woman into my bed.
“You can sleep on the floor.”
It’s more generous an offer than I thought she’d give.
There’s a small couch in the bedroom that I could claim, but I’m much too tall to be comfortable, and the marble floor is not generous on my back or knees.
“It’s late,” I say and grab her wrist, bringing her to follow me to my bedroom.
She shrugs out of my touch. “Just because we’re married, I’m not doingthatwith you.”
“What’s that?” I ask innocently. We’re three doors down from Ashton. I’ll request to Alessandro again about reassigning a different room to Ashton. Even if he doesn’t want to let Karina have her own room, we ought to be closer to the kid. I’m sure that would make Karina a little more comfortable, too.
Her nose scrunches slightly in the most endearing and adorable way possible. “You know. Married stuff.”
I open the door to my bedroom, and she gasps.
“Acceptable enough?” I ask.
“It’s huge.” She strides across the room and glances out the window at the front lawn. There’s decorative lighting outdoors that filters in soft light, but when the curtains are closed, they keep the bedroom black as night. “You have four windows.”
“It’s still smaller than the master suite,” I say. Alessandro’s room is impressive. Not that she needs to see his bedroom, ever.
She points at the wayward couch in the corner of the room. “You can sleep there.”
“Nice try.” There is no way I’m sleeping on that damn couch. My legs will be bent over the edge, and my body kinked up.
No. Fucking. Way.
“I’m serious. The couch is your bed.”
I don’t care how serious she thinks she is. I’m not sleeping on the couch. “You’re smaller. You take the couch. Only seems fair.” I’m trying to be rational with her. I’m willing to share the bed, but if she doesn’t want to join me, then I’m giving her another place to sleep. And I’m generous that it’s not the hard marble floor.