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“Want to take a shower?” he asked, caressing my lower back. “I’ll wash you.”
“No!” I said, fast and decisive.
His eyebrows arched up his forehead, but then a predatory gleam entered his eyes. “Want to keep me in there just a little bit longer?”
I averted my gaze.
“Come back to bed, then. It’s time we talk.”
I wasn’t sure what was worse, washing him off my body or talking. Both seemed equally horrible.
“We could text each other emojis,” I suggested hopefully. Emojis were so much easier than words.
“And what emoji would you text me right now?” he murmured, gently pushing me back into bed.
I didn’t have an answer for that because there wasn’t a single emoji that could possibly convey everything he made me feel.
“I don’t have my phone anyway,” I muttered.
“I brought it with me. It’s in the pocket of my sweats,” he said, gesturing across the room to wherever he’d discarded his clothes.
“They gave you your car back?”
He shrugged, slipping beneath the sheet behind me. “No reason to hold it.”
“If your dad wasn’t a senator, it would be sitting on an impound lot,” I muttered, stomach twisting. Thinking of his dad made me squeamish.
I expected him to blandly point out that my father was a senator too. I mean, technically, he wouldn’t be wrong. But he didn’t.
“Is my father really a dealbreaker for you?” he asked softly.
More like a heartbreaker.
“Isn’t mine?” I countered.
“No.”
My lips pressed into a hard line. “Yet, two hours ago, everyone believed I was some sort of dirty rat bastard of a spy, creeping around to get your dad overthrown.”
Arsen laughed.
I glanced at him sharply. “You think this is funny?”
“I think you hang out with Kruger too much.”
“Yeah? Well, Kruger never accused me of trying to set him up for possession of narcotics.”
All the humor left his face, replaced with turbulent anger. It whipped up a windstorm of anxiety inside me, and I couldn’t help but think, Still?
After being arrested, being accused of crimes, confessing my most hidden secrets and pain, practically passing out on the floor, three orgasms (two of them consecutive!), and more than one panic attack… anxiety still had the energy to taunt me?
Bro.
I was exhausted.
When I looked back at Arsen with his stubbornly set square chin and stormy scowl, my stomach swooped again. I guess I’d never be too tired to be affected by anxiety and his anger.
Love me. Don’t hate me.
