I'm sorry
I ran my tongue over my lips and stood up, reaching back toward the mattress as I regained my balance. I exhaled long and slowly, and waited a little longer, convincing myself that he would wake up and find me watching him.
But he didn't, and my desire to know what his tattoo was overcame all my doubts and common sense. I took a step closer, between his spread legs, and rested my palm on the chair behind him as I carefully parted the open front of his shirt.
Then I frowned. It was a shield and a kind of..... I squinted, noting the delicate lines that formed a? fleur-de-lis, only it was so ornate that the top petal almost looked like a vulva. And underneath, that delicate writing was gliding over her skin. Ego. So.
"Good morning." Her deep voice seemed to vibrate through me, and I let go of her shirt as my knees buckled and I sat on her lap, directly on her right thigh.
I gasped, and his arms wrapped around my waist until we were face to face. He opened his eyes, suddenly pinning me with a soft gray gaze. And it wasn't stormy as usual. It was soft and comforting.
"Shit," I gasped. "Fuck. I'm... I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm..."
The corner of his mouth turned up in an amused smile and his arms tightened almost imperceptibly.
Too close. He was too close. Oh, shit. I was burning for him. My body burned, heat lashing my skin and coursing through me, my clit throbbing like a second heartbeat.
I pressed my hand against his chest to pull away, to create space between us, but the heat of his body seared my palm. "I..." But I had nothing to say. I wanted to hurt this man, and my throat went dry as I imagined all the places I wanted to touch him and for him to touch me, and I looked away in case he saw it in my eyes.
One month. That was the contract I had signed. Just one month. And I was the one who declared no sex. No sex. No bad stuff, no matter how needy my body was.
My fucking traitorous body.
But I held my breath, hoping to find oxygen and determination in the air. I just needed to hold up my end of the bargain. One month. Then I'd be home free. Homeowner, business owner, and able to reclaim and rebuild my family's legacy. Mom's.
My future was so close I could almost touch it. I couldn't ruin it.
Arthur began to draw circles on my back and, despite myself, I relaxed against him, craving more of his touch.
Craving it.
I wanted his hands lower, on my ass. Higher, on my breasts, fiddling with my nipples. I closed my eyes and parted my lips, barely stifling a moan before it escaped me and revealed too much about my mood.
When I looked up at him again, his eyes were almost sleepy, and he was watching me with a gentle gaze and a carefree expression. I leaned closer, as if there was a magnetism between us that I couldn't resist.
Crap. I needed to get up.
Seriously, I needed to get up, to not lean so close to Arthur that our lips were almost touching.
But I couldn't.
I waited, without so much as a sigh, not knowing what I expected. Nor what I longed for.
I shouldn't have expected anything.
He pulled away a little, and I didn't know whether to sigh in relief or disappointment. Then his fingers brushed my neck as he brushed my hair over my shoulder and watched my skin. A shiver ran through my body.
"Do you remember anything from last night?" His voice was low and soothing.
I tilted my head. "Everything's a little fuzzy." I was short. I barely remembered anything. Some sensation here and there, Arturo's face , but nothing else.
He smiled at me, but with a charmingly crooked smile as he pushed my hair back from my forehead, not looking me in the eye. "You had one or two drinks too many and danced the night away. I spent most of the night watching you sway to the rhythm that only you could hear."
His smile lifted a little, but the heat burned my cheeks.
He laughed softly, his gaze suddenly inquisitive as he watched me, then leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on the corner of my lips. Immediately, I wanted more, but he was already gone, shifting his position to embrace me as he stood up.
Almost against my will, I snuggled against his chest, unable to find the words to say anything before he carefully lowered me onto the bed. I helped him cover me with the blanket, ignoring how my body still throbbed aware of him, and squeezed my thighs together, but that only made me want him even more.
"I need to shower and get ready to go to work. " He spoke softly. His tone was almost regretful, and I couldn't look at him because if I did, I might invite him to stay. Or to use my shower. With me in it.
He walked toward the door, and I tried hard not to look directly at him. But I was aware of his every move. His fingers closed over the doorknob and he half turned, not quite looking at me as he spoke. "We're having a party tonight. It's formal. I'll send someone to do your hair and makeup."