Ari notices, obviously. “Relax, Caiden,” he says, his voice smooth. “You look like you’re about to combust.”
“I’m fine,” I lie, which is stupid because I haven’t said a single convincing lie to him since the day we met. He pushes off the door and walks toward me, slowly, like he’s giving me time to change my mind.
As if I could.
He stops just far enough away that his breath fans my face when he exhales. “Tell me what’s happening in that head of yours,” he says softly. Everything. Nothing. I want you. I’m terrified. I don’t know what I’m doing. “I’m thinking,” I manage.
“Dangerous,” he murmurs, looking down at me. I take a few seconds to study his face in the lamplight. It catches the faint scar on his eyebrow, the shadows in his eyes, and the curve of his mouth. Then my stomach flips hard because I know what that mouth can do.
He said he’d been thinking about how I’d sound if he got all of me. And here I am, in a cabin with one bed, and absolutely no backup or excuse or escape route. Ari watches the way my breath falters. “Ah,” he says quietly. “There it is.”
“There what is?” I rasp.
“Whatever filthy thing you just thought my mouth was for.” Heat rushes up my throat so fast I nearly choke. I step back instinctively, and he follows. It’s only a step, but it’s enough to tell me the balance of the entire weekend. It crashes over me in one realisation. There is no universe in which I’m topping him.None. Zero. Not even theoretically. He’s going to ruin me, and the fucked-up part is my body wants it, it wants him. It wants to give in, go under, fall apart in his hands.
But another part — the soldier, the fighter, the stubborn bastard — rebels. I’m not soft, and I don’t submit easily. “I’m not—” I begin, then stop. Not what? Not bottoming? Not nervous? Not desperate for him?
He lifts one eyebrow, reading every unfinished sentence. “Say it,” he murmurs.
I shake my head. “Forget it.”
“No,” he says, stepping closer still. “Not here. Not tonight. If you want something, you say it.”
I force myself to hold his gaze. “I don’t know how this is supposed to go.”
His expression shifts slightly, as if something softer comes to life behind the usual arrogance. “You think too much,” he says quietly. “You’re panicking over nothing.”
“Nothing?” I choke. “Ari, I don’t even know—”
“Who’s doing what?” he finishes for me, smirking. I want the floor to open and swallow me whole. “Caiden,” he murmurs, “if I wanted you on your knees the second we walked in, you would be. If I wanted to bend you over that bed before you finished opening your bag, I would. But I didn’t,” he continues softly, “that’s not what this is about.” I keep my eyes fixed on his, and for the first time, I see it — the thing he’d never say out loud.
He wants this to matter.
He leans in, lips brushing my ear, and whispers, “You’re going to be underneath me because you want to be. Not because you think it’s the only option.”
“And if I... If I said I wanted to have you?”
A slow smile spreads across his face. “Then that’s okay,” he says softly. “But not tonight.” His fingers trail up my arm. “Tonight, you’re mine,” he murmurs. My breath stutters, and for the first time in my life, I don’t want control.
I just want him.
“Ari.” I whisper, not even sure what I’m asking for.
“Take off your coat,” he says quietly. “Start there.” My heart nearly stops. The words“take off your coat”shouldn’t make me feel as nervous as they do, but here we are. They drop into my stomach like a weight.
Ari moves back a step, eyes locked on mine, his hands loose at his sides, and his body held with that quiet, coiled readiness he always has. Except this time, it’s aimed directly at me.
I lift my hands to my collar, and I drag the zip down, sliding the coat off my shoulders. I hang it on the chair because throwing it carelessly feels desperate, and everything about this moment feels nothing like that.
When I turn back to Ari, I see him tracking the rise and fall of my chest. “Good,” he murmurs. One word shouldn’t pull at something deep in my spine like that. But it does. God, it does.
“What now?” I manage to ask, my voice lower than I intend it to be. Ari shrugs out of his jacket with a fluid roll of his shoulders, letting it drop onto the chair behind him. Then his fingers go to the buttons of his shirt, and my mouth goes dry.
He undoes them one by one. Slow, controlled and torturous. The lamplight hits his skin as he opens the shirt, letting it fall off his arms, baring his chest. I’ve seen him shirtless before, but it never felt like this. The need to touch him sweeps through me so fast it’s dizzying.
“Come here,” he says, crooking a finger. I move without thinking, stepping as close as possible without actually touching him. He looks down at me like he’s savouring every reaction, every tremor. “Are you still nervous?” he asks quietly, and I nod. “Good,” he murmurs.
“Good?” I whisper.
