Lying in bed that night, knowing she was just down the hall, was sweet torture for him. He only made it worse by denying himself his own pleasure, but still he stroked himself, picturing her form tussling up

the sheets he’d carefully picked out for her.

When he’d first shown her the room that was to be hers, she looked like she might faint. His house was beautiful, he knew. He was useless when he came to decorating, so he’d hired a professional and had everything redone.

The only thing he’d really specified was that the rooms all had to feel a bit different, to have their own personality. His...