Camilla crossed her arms tightly over her chest. She watched him standing near the window, trying to calm his breathing. She noticed how far away he stood. He was treating her like she had a deadly disease.

As she watched him, her annoyance slowly shifted. A slow, wicked grin began to form on her lips. A new, very highly amusing idea came to her head.

"Fine," Camilla planned in her mind. "If he wants to act like a scared little boy, I will treat him like one. He shoved me. Now, I am going to punish him. I am going to make him suffer."

She knew exactly what he valued most right now. He was tired. He wanted to sleep. He wanted his comfortable bed.

"I am going to take the whole bed," Camilla decided happily in her thoughts. "He removed all the furniture to force me into his bed? Well, that plan is going to backfire perfectly."

Camilla uncrossed her arms. She took a slow, deliberate step toward the center of the room. She looked directly at Damon. She made sure her voice sounded incredibly sweet, highly teasing, and very dangerous.

"My Lord," Camilla spoke out loud, breaking the heavy silence in the room.

Damon looked at her cautiously. He kept his distance. He did not trust her calm tone.

"I can tolerate you not wanting me to touch you," Camilla continued, shrugging her delicate shoulders lightly. She walked slowly toward the large bed. "I understand you are very shy. I will not force myself on you while we are awake."

She reached the edge of the bed. She turned around and faced him again. She placed her hands gently on the soft wool blankets.

"But," Camilla said, her voice dropping into a soft, highly suggestive whisper. She looked him right in the eye. "We will eventually have to sleep on the same bed tonight. There is nowhere else to go."

She let out a small, dramatic sigh. She looked down at her own hands, acting completely innocent.

"I am a very deep sleeper," Camilla lied smoothly. "And as you just felt... I am a very affectionate woman. I am afraid that if we share the same mattress in the dark..."

She paused, looking back up at him with a wicked sparkle in her dark eyes.

"I’m afraid I won’t be able to control myself," Camilla finished her threat. "My hands might wander while I am dreaming. I might just roll over and grab whatever is closest to me."

Damon stared at her. He listened to her clear, spoken threat. And he heard the absolute, pure mischief laughing loudly inside her mind. He knew she was teasing him. He knew she was doing this on purpose just to punish him for pushing her off.

But he also knew he could not risk it. He was a healthy, normal man. If she touched him again in the dark, he was not entirely sure his strict military discipline would be strong enough to stop his body from reacting. He could not share a bed with a woman who had such dangerous, distracting thoughts.

His pride and his panic completely won the internal battle. He refused to give her the satisfaction of making him uncomfortable all night long.

Damon stiffened his back. He made his face completely blank and cold.

"It’s fine," Damon replied out loud. His deep voice was flat and completely empty of emotion.

He took a step forward. He did not walk toward her. He walked toward the headboard of the large wooden bed.

"Take the bed," Damon told her, waving his large hand dismissively toward the mattress. "You can have the whole thing to yourself."

Camilla raised a dark eyebrow. She watched him closely, wondering what he was going to do.

"I don’t want to sleep next to you," Damon stated clearly. It was a harsh, blunt statement, meant to protect his own sanity.

Damon reached down. He grabbed one of the large, thick white pillows from the top of the bed. He pulled it away firmly.

He turned his back on her and walked away from the comfortable mattress. He walked over to the far side of the room, near the large wooden wardrobe.

The floor there was made of hard, cold, wooden boards. There was no rug. There were no extra blankets to soften the ground.

Damon dropped the thick white pillow directly onto the floor.

Without saying another word, Damon lowered his large body down onto the floor. He stretched his long legs out over the cold wood. He laid his head down onto the single white pillow.

He turned his body completely away from her. He faced the stone wall, presenting his broad back to the center of the room. He closed his eyes and tried to force his racing mind to slow down and find sleep.

Camilla stood by the large, incredibly comfortable, empty bed.

She looked across the room. She stared at him, sleeping on the hard cold floor just to avoid sharing a mattress with her.

Camilla let out a loud, harsh scoff.

"Hypocrite," Camilla said, her voice full of pure mockery. She did not care if he heard her out loud or in her mind.

She shook her head in deep disbelief.

"Acting like a perfect, untouched saint," Camilla thought to herself, pulling the thick wool blankets back. "He is the one who took his shirt off. He is the one whose body was reacting. But he acts like I am a terrible demon trying to ruin his purity."

She climbed up onto the mattress. The bed was incredibly soft and warm. The pillows were filled with soft feathers.

"Well, his loss is my absolute gain," Camilla decided happily in her mind.

She crawled right into the very center of the large bed. She stretched her arms and legs out wide, taking up as much space as possible.

She pulled the thick, heavy wool blankets all the way up to her chin, feeling completely warm and secure.

She looked over at his dark shape lying on the floor one last time.

"Enjoy the hard wood, General," Camilla thought, closing her eyes.

She let out a soft, contented sigh. The long, crazy day of fighting thugs and teasing her grumpy husband had completely exhausted her body. Within five minutes, her breathing slowed into a steady rhythm. She went to a deep, peaceful sleep.