Page 86 of Arran's Obsession
When I’d wrangled it over my head, discarding the torn dress, I gazed around me. He’d brought me to an apartment, an open-plan space with red-brick walls and a grey stone kitchen with shiny appliances. A lamp by the side of my sofa plus three glass pendant lights over the kitchen counter provided a warm glow, shadows holding the corners. Twisting around, I took in a darkened hall behind me, all the rooms off it unlit. Bedrooms, I presumed.
Arran flicked on a machine. “Coffee?”
“Thank you.” I brought my attention to the other side of the room where a floor-to-ceiling arched window looked out on the city. My breath caught. “Is this your home?”
“It is. Half the penthouse floor. Shade has the other half. No one knows we live up here, so if that’s suddenly discovered…”
He left the rest unsaid—that he’d know it was me who’d spilled. I rubbed my arms, suddenly cold despite the clothing he’d offered. Screw him for not trusting me still.
Climbing up, I stalked to the uncovered window. Below, people came and went from the club entrances, taxis and bikes zipping about. The river flowed in a steady, black stream to the right, and the bridges across it sparkled with reflected light. TVs flickered in apartment block windows, and against the dark river came the flare of someone smoking on the dockside. Beyond, the taller city buildings had minimal lights on, most of their windows shaded.
My pulse quickened.
The very best part of Dad’s apartment, maybe the only good part, was the view it had down the hill. Maybe I could even see the Crescent from here, if I cared to look. But it couldn’t beat Arran’s view. Instantly, I was hooked on the vision of the city in the evening.
I’d always been a night owl, and this made one hell of a roost.
The coffee machine clanked, then seconds later, Arran walked up behind me. “What made you come?”
I parted my lips, confused.
“Was it having more than just me touch you?” He held my hips in his big hands.
“I blocked everyone else out,” I whispered.
He made a gruff sound of approval then nudged my hair aside to kiss the back of my neck. Damn him for that sweet touch. I tilted my head to give him better access, something inside me going molten.
“Give me free use again.” Another kiss.
“No.”
Arran pushed me against the glass, his knee spreading my legs. “Why not?”
“I don’t have to give you a reason.”
He rumbled, drawing another kiss higher. His fingers hitched up my hem. “It would be different.”
“How?”
“I wouldn’t deny you. I liked feeling you pulse around my dick. I need it again.”
“For your sake then, not mine.”
“Christ, woman. I liked feeling you come because it gave you pleasure. That did something to my brain.”
I considered that, my focus skipping from car headlights on the nearest bridge then to a group of men fighting near the water’s edge. I tried to stay in control of myself, not on how I rode his thigh.
What he offered was all I’d wanted. What my body craved. Except there was one huge missing element in that he didn’t trust me still. Not in the way I deserved. I’d been honest from the moment of claiming, but equally, I’d lied to him, too. I didn’t know if we could come back from that.
Wait, why did I want to? My heart throbbed, my odd tears making sense. I cared. For some strange and very wrong reason, I needed there to be a version of this where he and I came to understand each other.
I pushed off the glass and moved away from him, stumbling. Dizzy, I held my gaze on him for a moment then wheeled around and sought out the coffee he’d promised. A cup waited on the tray of the shiny machine, steam rising. An espresso. Perfect.
I knocked it back then wiped my mouth with my hand. “I have a different proposal.”
Arran stalked me, rounding the kitchen counter, but he held back from pouncing. Under the kitchen’s lanterns, I posed, his hoodie long on me but giving me the cover I needed to put forward my thoughts.
“Free use for me.”