Isla glanced at his tall, unfairly long frame, then at the couch, and quickly calculated that there was no world where a man his size fit comfortably on that piece of furniture.
Grayson stood silently watching, and clearly read exactly what was going through her head.
Isla thought it over carefully, then ventured, "Mr. Vale, how about you take the bed, and I take the couch?"
The second she said it, unease crept in.
Her bright eyes fixed on his tall frame beside the bed, and the longer he stayed silent, brow furrowed, the more flustered she became.
Grayson's gaze sharpened as he studied her.
Isla's heart started hammering. That increasingly cold, intense stare felt like it might actually devour her whole.
She stayed put, obedient, unmoving.
Grayson stood there, elegant and imposing,
