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as if his body was here but his thoughts might actually be someplace else.
    “Then you’ll sleep on the couch and continue to be cold.”
    He didn’t shrug, but the implication that he didn’t care either way was ripe in the air. So was something else in the air, she thought.
    Caprise moved away from X again, exploring his personal space with him not so much as uttering a word. Through an archway was his dining area, a long rectangular space with floor-to-ceiling windows making up one side, more white walls on the other. There was a table about six feet long, marble-topped with thick legs and six chairs to match. There was nothing else.
    She peeped into the kitchen and almost smiled at the repetition of design. White walls, stainless-steel appliances, dark granite countertops that matched the dining room table, on the floor large slate-gray tiles instead of glossed wood. His bedroom—that’s what had been reaching out to her, she figured, as there was still a tugging in her gut.
    He wasn’t behind her when she turned, which was only a minor surprise. Usually a good host gave a new guest a tour of his home, or at the very least followed the guest while they made her own impromptu tour. X did neither. Caprise was not shocked.
    There were two bedrooms, one she knew instinctively was not his because the door was wide open. Inside there was exercise equipment and another large flat-screen television. In one corner was a U-shaped desk with two desktop computers; one laptop was closed on the end of the desk. The bathroom was huge, decorated in the same slate tile from the kitchen, its shower in the center of the room in a circular shape with glass doors and an overhead showerhead. All around was the color gray: towels, walls, the tub, the toilet, like some higher being had deemed this place a perpetually cloudy day.
    In the hall once again she touched a hand to the closed door, knowing this was his personal space. A whiff of dominance assailed her and she looked to the left, where X stood at the end of the hallway, hands fisted at his sides, legs spread partially, chest and head held high. He was daring her and giving her permission all at the same time. She didn’t falter, but opened the door and stepped inside.
    Here the monotony of the decor was broken. His bed was huge. Then again, it would have to be to accommodate him comfortably. Four thick posters held up the king-size mattresses to a bed that had to be at least a couple of feet off the floor. It looked as heavy as his truck, she thought as she moved closer. There was a huge armoire in the corner closest to the door. All the furniture in here appeared heavy and ornate, like something out of a time warp. It was dark cherrywood and had intricate designs carved inside. The floor was bare and so were the walls, but in this room, amazingly, Caprise was not cold.
    “As you can see there’s space for two,” he said in a gruff tone from his spot in the doorway.
    She’d known he was there, had felt his presence close, overshadowing.
    “Do two often sleep here?” She was asking about the girlfriend thing again and berated herself for it. She already knew the answer, or at least she thought she did. Furthermore, it didn’t really matter. Or it shouldn’t matter.
    “No female has been here before” was his answer just before there was a knock at the door.
    It was a low knock, she knew, but she heard it and so did X.
    “Get comfortable,” he told her before leaving her alone.
    “Yes sir,” she mocked him when he was gone.
    Touching one of the bedposts, she thought with a bit of smugness, No female has been here before. Why did that please her?
    Caprise was not into fairy tales. She didn’t want any type of happily ever after, with any man or shifter. Not anymore. That was the trouble with first relationships, they had a tendency to leave everlasting scars. She resisted the urge to touch the physical scar left over from said relationship, letting her mind ripple over