Chapter 88 Fears
Chapter 88 Fears
Arihya POV
Have been busy throughout the rest of the week but cassian hadn't reached out to me again and I wanted to call him badly but then I decided to go see him in his hotel.
His suite was one of three on the sixth floor and my hand shook with anger as I pounded on the door.
After the first three knocks came up empty, I raised my hand again, but the door opened before I could make contact.
Without looking at him, I marched past him and into his room. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do, but I’d rather not do it in front of the security camera in the hall.
I tensed as the door shut with a small click, and then turned to see him leaning against it. His arms were crossed, white dress shirt pulled tight across his biceps. A single light above the kitchen island lit the space, and a shadow caressed the side of his face.
I couldn’t help but think this was a man all other men aspired to be. He was the perfect prototype, and everyone else had just gotten the small details wrong.
As he watched me with a dark, half-lidded stare, I became abundantly aware that I stood in his domain. With his large form blocking the door and the oxygen in the room burning up like fuel.
His eyes dropped, almost unwillingly, to coast the length of my bare legs, from the frayed hem of my shorts to my sparkly-painted toes.
His attention came back up and, like the glide of a drop of sweat down my back, it brushed the diamond piercing in my navel, over my breasts and my throat, before reaching my eyes.
My heart raced with an edgy beat ao I didn’t understand it not him, or my reaction to him and that made my blood flow with pure anger and frustration. I strode toward him, and just as my palm was about to make contact with his face, he caught my wrist, spun me
around, and slammed my back against the door.
It rattled under the contact, and a breath of air escaped me.
Anger heated my cheeks, and I tried to fight him off, to twist out of his hold, but, calmly, he held my wrists in a vise grip against my chest and I couldn’t escape.
The struggle was fruitless, and eventually I went still, my heavy breaths filling the room and because I could do nothing else, I growled, “Why are you ghosting me.”
Animosity felt heavy in the air, though I could almost hear the strike of a match as something else sparked to life.
“Have you don't it?” It was soft and gentle but
underlined with the slightest clench of his teeth. I knew he meant the question he’d told me to get the divorce first.
“I'm still working on it,” I breathed.
He pressed my wrists against the door on either side of me and slowly slid them above my head. I panted, a languid sensation pulling on my muscles. His grip was like fire, though his presence was intimidating and cold to the touch.
A shiver rolled through me as his lips pressed against my ear.
“So why are you here?”
His hands were like shackles holding my wrists above my head as he looked at me from my eyes, to my lips, to mynbreasts that moved with each inhale and exhale and I became aware of every breath. The slow, melodic puffs of air.
A tremble rocked me as he pressed his face into my neck and inhaled then made a low sound of satisfaction in the back of his throat.
The deep, rough noise thrummed between my legs, and instinctively, I tilted my head to bare
more of my neck. My ponytail skimmed across my bare shoulder as it fell to the other side.
His grip on my wrists tightened, and my eyes grew halflidded from the pressure.
He held my wrists with one hand as the other slid down to my throat. Stepping closer, he pressed his front to mine until we were flush with one another and my breasts burned under the heat of his chest.
Sparks lit beneath my skin, sizzling every time he shifted enough to brush my nipples.
His heart, it was beating so hard and it wasn’t from exertion. I wasn’t fighting him. I didn’t know what this was but I didn’t have a single thought in me to analyze it.
I want this man for myself and I didn't care if he was married.
He stepped away from me so suddenly my entire body screamed in protest.
His eyes were darker than I’d ever seen them, as though the black of his pupil was bleeding into the blue. He blinked like he was trying to clear his head.
He ran his tongue across his teeth, turned, and moved away from me, tension radiating from every inch of him.
I wasn’t like any of the women I’d seen him with. He preferred classy, composed, and docile but I was the opposite, he wanted me but he hated it.
He moved into the kitchen and he grabbed a bottle of vodka from a cupboard and, in my humble opinion, poured a little too much into hisbglass.
The anger from earlier had drifted away under the heatbof his hands on me, and while I wanted it back, I wanted to play with him more.
I pushed off the front door. “I don't think we need a doctor before getting a baby?”
His shoulders tensed the slightest bit before easing into indifference. “Do what I said first”
“I know,” I said, slipping my sandals off and making myself comfortable. “Which was rude, by the way, You don't talk about my marriage while you hid your.”
He turned to lean against the counter. “I’m relieved to hear it. Now, get out.”
I strode toward him, and his gaze watched every step I made. It sent the fire in my blood sparking with electricity.
I ran my finger along the smooth marble counter as I walked around it. “Elena or me?”
“You.”
I pulled myself onto the kitchen island to face him, and a small smile touched my lips. “So what will you do when I get pregnant, I'm I going to be a single mom?”
He stared then drew his teeth across his bottom lip and took a sip.
I leaned back on my hands. “Such a secretive man,” I mused. “Wont you give an answer?”
“I will decide what happened and why would you be a single mom?”
My smile faltered at the animosity in his voice.
What would he do if I said I was scared of Zayn?