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The savory aroma of Arabella’s lasagne hits me like a punch to the gut when I open the door. Despite everything, she’s in the kitchen, cooking my favorite meal. I’m overwhelmed by her thoughtfulness. Every bite of every meal she’s prepared feels like a declaration of love, even though she hasn’t said the words yet.
I catch her by the sink, and she startles, not having heard me come in. Shit. I forgot to announce my presence by licking the lights. I calm her down by nuzzling the side of her neck. The warmth of her skin fills me with a rush of desire.
Arabella tries shooing me away, telling me she’s cooking and that she just put something in the oven. Apparently, it needs about thirty more minutes to cook, not quite long enough for what I have in mind. But I’m determined to make it work. I lean in to kiss along her collarbone, and I’m rewarded when her pulse races under my lips. She protests, but her body leans into mine, betraying her desires.
Arabella’s resistance crumbles and she finally gives in to the magnetic pull between us. She turns around, her eyes locking with mine, and revealing the hunger mirrored in them. She wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me closer, and I capture her lips in a searing kiss.
We lose ourselves in each other. The taste of her lips, the feel of her body pressed against mine. It’s all I’ve been craving, and I know she feels the same. We stumble towards the bedroom, our hands roaming eagerly over each other’s bodies, desperate to be as close as possible.
The mattress beneath us gives way to the gentle curves of her body, as I savor every inch of her against me. I explore her body, tracing the curves of her hips and waist as our kiss deepens. Her taste fills me with a desire that only grows stronger when she moans into my mouth. We break away from each other to catch our breath. Like always, I get lost staring into her eyes. They’re like stars in the night sky, drawing me in and making me want to stay forever.
Our lips meet again, hungrier than before. Her body trembles beneath my touch as she gasps for air. Her taste is honey-sweet on my tongue, and I can’t get enough of it. We move together in perfect harmony until we’re both lost to the rhythm of our perfect dance.
ChapterNine
Arabella
Thunder’s stove doesn’t have the vibrating buzzer that’s on the one in my apartment. So I wait for the oven to heat, gauging the temp by feel. A process that has already ruined two cakes. I miss the convenience of the modifications to my home. Little things like a flashing doorbell and a vibrating alarm clock are helpful. Thunder will get me any assistive device I need. I know his heart. No man has ever treated me so well, cared for me so patiently, or made love to me so beautifully—and I doubt another man ever will. Definitely not if Thunder has anything to say about it. It’s barely been a month since our first date, but he’s dug a trench straight to the deepest part of my heart, and now there’s no getting him out. Which I think is part of his plan. It’s so ridiculously obvious that he wants me to stay. A fact we both dance around. Just like we dance around our love for each other. Thunder’s love shines so brilliantly that I’d have to be blind not to see it. But we both hold back, me because my past has made me afraid. Especially when my past is currently stalking me, waiting to strike.
A new text message vibrates on my phone. I pick it up, and my heart clenches when I see it’s from Molly.
My stomach churns as I read the message. The police discovered Mac’s dead body lying in a ditch. Someone had shot him multiple times. My mouth fills with saliva, and I swallow down a bout of nausea. Mac brought so much chaos and violence into my life, but I never expected things to end like this. A man like Mac probably had a boatload of people who wanted to end his life. But I don’t think of the boatload. Instead, my mind focuses on one person.
Thunder. He had been frustrated with the police’s inability to catch Mac. Had frequently mentioned that if the law didn’t handle it, he would. But…
He couldn’t…
Wouldn’t…
The thought is too jarring to comprehend. Thunder has been nothing but patient, tender, and caring with me since we first met. He’s been my protector, my rock, and the man who has made me feel safe and loved. While giving me the space to feel free and self-sufficient. That he could be a murderer is incomprehensible.
I try to push away the suspicions gnawing at me, reminding myself not to jump to conclusions. Thunder has a dark past, but he’s also changed and grown into a better person since then. I can’t let my fear and uncertainty cloud my judgment.
No matter how the pieces fit together. Like the growing frustration I saw in Thunder’s eyes, his earlier promise to handle things if the police couldn’t, and now Mac’s death. The dots start connecting, and my mind races with questions.
Taking a deep breath, I steady myself. This is not the Thunder I know. I only need to talk to Thunder and confront him about what happened. He’ll allay my fears and doubts before they fester inside me. I owe it to both of us to have an honest conversation, to understand the truth behind Mac’s death.
I grab my coat and head towards the door, feeling conflicted. My heart tells me that Thunder couldn’t possibly be capable of murder, but my mind is plagued with doubts. We promised to turn to each other when we have concerns. There’s nothing more concerning than this.
* * *
Thunder
I see Arabella through my bay window before she hits theRuff Ryders’sdoor. What the fuck? We agreed she wouldn’t leave the apartment without me. A closer glimpse of her face turns my anger turns into worry. Something is clearly wrong.
“What happened?” I ask, dragging her in the shop and pulling her into our office.
Arabella takes a deep breath and tells me about Mac’s death. I listen intently, my jaw hardening as the details unfold. When she finishes, I’m taken aback by her questioning expression.
“Do you expect me to feel bad about it? Because I don’t.”
Arabella’s face crumples a bit at my callous response, and I immediately regret my words. As much as I hate it, I know she had feelings for the guy. I don’t want her to think I’m heartless.
“No, I don’t expect you to feel bad,” she whispers. “But I need to know—did you have anything to do with it?”
Shit. I struggle to find the right words. I can’t lie to her, but I also can’t bear the thought of losing her because she thinks I killed that asshole.
“I…,” I start, then pause, my throat tightening. “No, Arabella. I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
