He pulls me back, right up against his body. “You do.”
“I don’t.”
“Darlin’,” he says, smiling. “You do.”
“Prove it,” I demand, sounding smug.
My eyes widen in horror as he says, “Okay,” and grabs his phone from the side table.
“Tell me you didn’t,” I groan, rolling over and burying my face in my pillow.
But he did.
I hear a soft snoring noise playing through the phone.
I turn my head to the side to look at him, giving him the dirtiest look I can fathom. “You just crossed a line.”
He laughs, eyes crinkling. “I wasn’t going to show anyone.”
“Not the point,” I grit out, trying to hide my embarrassment. Who wants to actually hear themselves snoring?
There is no way to make that shit cute.
Someone please kill me now.
“That is the point. You can trust me; I just wanted to annoy you a little. See, I’ll delete it,” he says, unable to hide a grin.
I go to grab the phone off him to delete it myself but instead end up pinned under him. Before I know what he’s about to do, before I can think of the consequences, his mouth is on mine, firm and demanding.
And perfect.
Better than I had imagined, and trust me, I had imagined a lot.
His lips are full and soft and his tongue knows exactly what it’s doing as it licks my own, tasting me. He tastes delicious, like strawberry candy.
It’s not just a kiss, it’s the kiss.
And I lose myself in it.
My arms wrap around his neck as I put my all into the kiss, showing him without words how much I’ve wanted him.
He grinds his pelvis into me and I feel his hardness, feel the size of his cock Faye was telling me about.
He’s huge.
And so hard.
I raise my hips up, wanting more friction. Arrow suddenly lifts his head, moving his mouth away, ignoring my noise of protest. He peers down at me, watching me through gentle, heavy-lidded eyes. He swallows, his throat working as his gaze lowers to my lips. He licks his own, as if wanting another taste.
I make a soft mewling noise and gently grab on to his beard, wanting him to come back to me.
Wanting more of what he’d given me. I knew he had so much more to give, and I wanted it. I wanted everything he had to offer. In this moment, nothing else mattered.
“Sweet Anna,” he murmurs, eyes still on my lips.
“Arrow—”
“I know,” he says, the two words sounding like they were pulled from his throat. “Fuck, I shouldn’t have kissed you. I was selfish, I just wanted another taste.”
Just a taste? Does that mean that it isn’t going to happen again? I don’t like that. Not one bit. He thinks he is selfish, but I want him to be. I want to yell at him.
Be selfish.
Be selfish!
I don’t care. To me, it is selfish to keep himself away from me, especially after that kiss.
“Arrow—”
“Fuck.”
Yes, please.
He gently pulls away from me then, and I don’t like it. His index finger grazes my cheek, a touch so soft that goose bumps appear on my skin. He exhales, his finger now running down my jawline. Then, he drops his hand and pushes off the bed, standing next to it and staring at me, indecision written all over his expression.
As for me, I feel confused. How could he feel what I just did and not want any more? Why is he pulling away from me? I’m not an expert on love, but I don’t think that a connection like this comes along every day. I’d never experienced it before, but then Arrow was older than me, and had loved before me. I knew he didn’t love me, but surely he felt at least lust?
His hands turn to fists at his sides.
Then I watch him, almost as if in slow motion, as he walks out of my room, closing the door behind him.
I stare at that door for what feels like an hour. I’m feeling hurt, lonely, and sexually frustrated as hell, not a good mix. Why do I keep going in deeper with him when I know it will always turn out like this? We both know nothing can happen, so why do we keep playing this game? It is almost like we come together whenever one of us gives in to their weakness, but then pull apart when that moment is over. It isn’t meant to be like that in a relationship, but that isn’t what we have, is it?
I take a long shower, ignoring my needy body. Bringing myself to orgasm wouldn’t satisfy me as much as Arrow could, so even though I’m tempted to let my fingers wander, I don’t. Instead, I brush my teeth and get ready for the day, all the while thinking about Arrow’s lips on mine. How could he just walk away? I know that I couldn’t have done it, especially as easily as he did. Does he not want me as much as I want him?
Anger fuels my next decision.
I leave my room in search of Arrow. I need an explanation, I need . . . something. Either we’re all in or all out. I can’t keep going on like this. I stop at his door and lift my hand to knock, but the door opens before my knuckles touch the wood.
Jill walks out, a satisfied smirk on her face.
My breath hitches and I try to keep my face from falling.
“He might be a little tired,” she whispers so only I can hear. I look behind her and see Arrow walk out of the bathroom as naked as the day he was born. For once, his beautiful body does nothing for me.
I feel nothing but pure pain and anger.
How. Dare. He.
I give him a look that shows him exactly what I think right now. I let the pain seep through my eyes, letting my guard down for a moment so he can feel what I’m feeling.