“Who’s Craig?” the man that she’d kind of been expecting to rip her throat out asked, making her frown.
“What?” Samantha asked, slowly opening her eyes and risking a peek to find Trace glaring down at her.
“Who is Craig, wife?” he demanded, as she tried to figure out how to answer that question.
“I’m sorry, what’s this now?” Samantha asked, blinking up at him.
“You talk in your sleep, wife,” he explained as he folded his arms over his chest and continued to glare down at her.
“I, umm, I see,” she murmured as she reached up and rubbed the bridge of her nose as she did her best not to wince because she did see. She’d been talking in her sleep since she was little and while it normally wasn’t a problem, sometimes things came out that were better left unsaid.
“Who is he, wife?” Trace asked as she dropped her hand away with a sigh and-
“Oh, I love the way your cock feels,” came the unexpected announcement that had them both frowning as they turned their heads and-
“Oh, my god,” Samantha mumbled weakly when she saw what was on the television.
“Me, too,” the busty brunette on all fours said as Samantha reached over and she found herself cursing as she pulled herself up and dove for the remote only to have Charlie get to it first.
“It’s so big!”
“Just looking at it is making me wet!”
“Charlie!” Samantha bit out in warning, as she reached for the remote only to have the little bastard roll over onto his back and pull it out of her reach.
“Give it to me, you little bastard,” she bit out as she was forced to grab hold of his muzzle and after some glaring, mumbling, and, much to her embarrassment, pleading, he dropped it on the bed. Before he could make a second grab for it, she had it in her hand and was frantically trying to change the channel.
“Why don’t you stick it in my-”
“Oh, look, the History Channel!” Samantha said brightly as she gestured somewhat awkwardly towards the television only to find Trace glaring at her again.
“Who is he, woman?”
Worrying her bottom lip, she gestured weakly towards the television. “Shouldn’t you be focused on the small humans trapped inside the box?” she asked with a hopeful smile only to toss the remote back on the bed with a sigh and head for the bathroom when he continued to glare.
“He was my fiancé,” she reluctantly admitted when it became obvious that he wasn’t going to let it go.
“What’s a fiancé?” Trace asked as he moved to follow her into the bathroom, but she wasn’t in the mood for an audience.
“Betrothed,” she said, waving it off before she closed the door behind her and-
Groaned when she saw her reflection in the mirror.
Her hair was a ratted mess, a purple bruise had already formed on her right temple, her clothes were wrinkled, and she’d never looked hotter, she thought wryly with a sad shake of her head that she cut off in mid-motion when the move made her headache worse. Biting back a sigh, she unsnapped her jeans and made her way to the toilet. Once she was there, she dropped her aching head in her hands and realized that she was going to have to explain personal boundaries to the large man who clearly didn’t believe in them.
“You were betrothed?” he demanded, somehow managing to sound angrier than Nathan had when he’d found out.
“Is there any chance that we could have this conversation when I’m not sitting on the toilet?” Samantha mumbled into her hands, not really surprised when he said, “No.”
“I was,” she said, sighing as she did her best to pretend that he wasn’t there, which wasn’t exactly difficult with the way that her head was starting to feel.
“Where is he?”
“Most likely catching something that’s going to require a shot of penicillin,” she mumbled absently, finishing before she managed to pull her pants up and stumbled her way to the sink.
“Are you untouched?” he asked after a slight hesitation.
“Is that a deal-breaker?” she couldn’t help but ask, sounding hopeful only to feel her shoulders slump when his eyes turned red and a soft growl filled the large bathroom.