Next Man, Better Plan novel Chapter 163

Stephanie forced a calm expression as she walked out, a trail of white steam following her from the bathroom.

"Um, I forgot my pajamas."

Her cheeks flushed a deep red. The thought of having to go upstairs like this to get her clothes was too humiliating. Taking a breath, she said, "Can you help me?"

Jonathan glanced up at her. "With what?"

"Can you go upstairs and get some clothes for me?" Stephanie clarified.

He raised an eyebrow. "And if I say no?"

Stephanie was speechless.

She could only glare at him, her cheeks puffed out in frustration.

He'd been cold to her the moment she got back, refused to eat the dinner she'd painstakingly made, and was now speaking to her in that icy tone.

What was wrong with him?

"Fine, don't."

Stephanie marched to the large bed, threw back the covers, and slipped in without hesitation.

She wrapped her slender white arms tightly around her stuffed animal. The movement had caused the towel around her to come loose, revealing a swathe of smooth skin.

But she seemed oblivious, pulling the covers up to her chin, wrapping herself up tightly, closing her eyes to sleep, with only the top of her small head visible.

Jonathan stared at the space beside him, watching her for a few seconds.

As Stephanie turned over, she dragged most of the comforter with her. Jonathan, wearing only a pair of shorts, was now completely exposed to the cool air.

Jonathan was silent.

In the darkness, the man took a deep breath. He sat up and swiftly pulled on a pair of pajama pants.

Stephanie, her back to him, felt the other side of the bed shift as he got up, then sink as he sat down again, and then shift once more.

The door opened. It seemed Jonathan had left.

A moment later, a set of pajamas landed on the bed beside her.

Jonathan's voice was hard. "Put them on."

Did he actually go get her clothes?

Stephanie bit her lip, grabbed the pajamas, and stuffed them under the covers, planning to let them warm up before she changed.

Soon after, Jonathan felt a draft of cold air seep into the bed from all sides.

His eyes darkened. "What are you doing?"

Stephanie didn't answer.

She was under the covers, fumbling with the hem of the pajamas, slowly trying to put them on.

It was the middle of winter. What was wrong with wanting to change inside the warm cocoon of the bed?

Jonathan's eyes flew open. He reached out and ripped the comforter away.

When he was done, Jonathan simply left.

Leaving her in the wreckage of the bed, he put on his suit and walked out the door.

He hadn't said a single word.

Like a zombie, Stephanie lay on the bed for a long time. Angry red marks bloomed on her slender legs where he had gripped her.

Bastard!

That absolute jerk!

She put on her clothes and, limping, made her way upstairs.

Perhaps she was just too starved for affection, and had been too naive.

She and Jonathan were not an ordinary married couple. At best, they were allies in a mutually beneficial arrangement.

And if they were allies, she needed to act like one. She shouldn't have expected anything more. She had to learn her place.

About ten minutes later, Jonathan returned.

In his hand was a tube of anti-inflammatory cream he had just bought from the pharmacy. He pushed open the bedroom door, but the bed was empty.

All that remained was a giant stuffed animal, grinning at him.

It felt like a mockery.