Page 54 of Arran's Obsession

“Thought I heard noises,” a man called out from down the hall.

The stairwell in this corner of the house was tucked back. He wasn’t close enough to see me. Yet.

“We went for a run,” Arran replied.

Sweat pricked my brow.

The other man laughed. “You’ve been doing a lot of that. Ye really shouldn’t have the energy. I hear you’re leaving tomorrow. Say goodbye before ye go this time?”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Arran replied.

We were going? I didn’t think our week was up, but a quick calculation made it day six. For some reason, I didn’t like the idea of returning to the city. I’d gotten used to being here. Swimming in his chemistry. Doing nothing but watching him. Waiting for something else to happen, some new feeling or a rush of our strange connection.

We’d made progress, and it was all going to come to a stop.

Then again, didn’t I want that? I furrowed my brow, confused, turned on, and totally lost.

Arran was the very last man I should want, but still, here I was, revealing myself for his pleasure and obeying his every command.

He’d taken hold of my sexuality and switched it solely to him.

“You’d better not disappear,” his friend said, the footsteps moving away. Then abruptly, they got louder again. He was coming back. “I meant to ask about your woman. Will ye take her out to the ruins? Have ye told her about?—”

“My woman, as you call her, is naked six feet in front of me on the stairs. Come a step closer, and I’ll have to burn your fucking eyes out,” Arran snapped.

Silence, then a rolling laugh. “Holy fucking shite. Threatened with my own weapon of choice. What a way to go.”

“Jamieson, I’m deadly serious.”

“Aye, man. Walking away, walking away.”

His footsteps faded into the depths of the house.

I sagged in relief. I hated that he’d told on me just as much as I was relieved I hadn’t been seen.

Arran clucked his tongue. “Pick up your things. Get back to the room. Now.”

Like a scared little animal, I scurried off the stairs and grabbed my clothing. Ahead of Arran, I bolted down the hallway and threw myself into our rooms.

Inside, I swung my gaze around, trying to decide where he’d want me. On my back on the bed or the sofa felt weak. I was overthinking it. All I needed was for the violent gang leader to fuck me hard and good.

I took too long deciding, because he was there, locking the door, then looming over me. Slowly, he pulled the bandanna wrap up off his head, then tugged it down over mine, unfolding it so the whole of my face was covered. He’d blindfolded me with his mark of the skeleton crew.

Parting my lips, I adjusted it, but he grabbed my wrist.

“Hands out in front of you, fingers interlaced.”

Outside, his instructions had been icy cold. Now, they were heavy with desire.

I listened out for what he was doing, jumping when he took hold of my joined hands. Arran twisted rope around them. The curtain tie? It was some kind of silky weave. He tightened it, and I subtly flexed my hands to check the binding.

Arran tugged it, jerking me forwards. He was leading me like a dog on a leash.

Unable to see, I cautiously stepped, one foot after the other, following where he led. Other sounds came, material rustling, which I pictured to be him stripping. Something like a piece of furniture moving.

My foot touched something, and I stopped.

“That’s the sofa. Lean forward over it. Hands extended out.”