Aira slammed the bathroom door open and stepped back into the bedroom. She was drowning in an oversized black shirt—his shirt, ironically, which she had snatched from his duffel in a panic—and glared at the bed with absolute venom.
Dominic was lounging shirtless across her duvet, casually flipping through one of her college textbooks as if he owned the room, the house, and every piece of paper in it.
"Get. Off. My. Bed," she commanded, her voice sharp enough to cut glass.
He glanced up over the top of the book, a lazy, arrogant smirk curving his lips. "Our bed, wife."
Aira marched forward, grabbed the edge of the heavy comforter, and yanked it off the bed, tossing it straight at his head. "Floor. Now."
Dominic caught the blanket effortlessly, mocking offense. "You want your lawfully w
