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“Is that an excuse you’re making for her?” I challenge, waiting for him to deny me. But he doesn’t. He merely stares at me as if I’ve just hit home. “What has she done?”
“I—” We’re interrupted by the door knocker hitting the heavy wood in the entrance foyer, and I realize I’m not getting the answers I want now. Elian’s gaze darts behind me, and I turn to find Arabella walking into the living room led by my foster brother’s maid who comes in here once a week.
“Mr. Donati, your guest is here.” The older woman nods and leaves us. My brother is such an idiot living in this place with a fucking maid. I mean, it’s not like it’s a massive mansion like some of them around town.
“Hi,” Arabella says, a shy smile tilting her pretty, plump lips. Her mouth is the perfect mix of seductive and sensual.
“Pretty girl,” I greet her. She’s dressed in a deep red top that hugs her figure with a casual sweater over it, tight black yoga pants, and a pair of boots. It’s a casual look, nothing about her screams temptress, but that’s what makes her so dangerous. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.
I’m stunned at how understated her outfit is, but she still looks like the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I need to fight this strange need to look after her. She’s not mine. I agreed we could be friends, and I need to abide by my promise.
“Hi, Ahren.” She grins, and I can’t help but notice how the apples of her cheeks pinken. And for a brief moment, I wonder if she’s remembering our kiss.
I turn to Elian, my gaze locked on his, hoping he sees the silent message there. I need to know. “I’ll see you around,” I tell him before making my way past Arabella who smells like a strawberry field in summer. Fuck me. No wonder Elian is so entranced. She’s delicious.
But no woman is worth a shitstorm.
I’m almost certain the pretty girl with the stormy eyes is a torrent waiting to happen.18HIMTHE PRESENTDarkness descends on the day, and I’m here with her. She’s alone tonight again, and I wonder briefly if he’ll come around. I know they’re better suited, but I can’t deny the pull I have toward her.
It’s in the shadows I find my craving for her burns brightest. Isn’t that what they say? You need the darkness to see the stars shining. Well she is that. A star—exquisite, unique, and utterly alluring. She moves her way through the house, the lights flickering on and off as she goes, and finally, she reaches her bedroom. The window overlooks the garden, and I have a bird’s-eye view of her beauty as she slowly tugs the tank top over her head.
The moment her tits are bared, my cock stirs against my zipper. The jeans I’m wearing are tight, but they only get tighter with her movements. Cascading blonde hair falls like a silk fountain. My fingers itch and tingle with need to tug them harshly until she whimpers with need.
She pulls the long strands into a ponytail before she slips on an almost-see-through nightdress. What I love about her is that she leaves her light on. She doesn’t realize her window is my work of art, my entertainment. She does cast a glance out into the dark garden, but she doesn’t see me. But she can most certainly feel my eyes on her.
When the yellow glow of the bulb finally goes to sleep, that’s when I silently slip through the darkness and make my way to the car. I wanted to stay, to wait until she’s asleep, but I have things to do and places to be. But soon enough, I’ll spend the night. I’ll lie beside her and watch her lashes flutter as she dreams.
I don’t know where this darkness inside me comes from, but it’s there, clawing at my insides, and the pretty blonde has only made it worse. As if a monster had been let loose and I no longer have control over my actions.
It’s a lie.
I’m in control.
But the rope is pulled taut, it’s close to snapping, and what happens after is anyone’s guess.19Arabella“Sit,” Elian tells me in a tight grunt. The table is filled with textbooks and papers. He was clearly working on our essays before I arrived. My gaze takes in each name, but I don’t find mine. I’m guessing it’s hidden in the piles. “I read your paper,” he informs me, forcing my eyes to meet his.
I wasn’t expecting him to talk about school. Yesterday in the class, he said to meet him here where we can talk openly. Perhaps he’s slowly getting to why I’m really here.
I settle on the couch. The cool leather makes me shiver as I scoot back so I’m comfortable. I have a feeling I’m going to need to be for this conversation. “Is there something wrong with it?”
