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Arman’s stark, matter-of-fact words lingered in the forefront of my mind, his eyes shimmering as if he’d caught me in another lie.
I laughed, the sound shriller than I’d intended. “You must be joking. I would never beg you for anything. Are you always such an arrogant prick, so certain of yourself?”
“Such harsh words.”
“Necessary ones.” No matter my bravado, the powerful man still made me quiver with fear and rage at the desire skittering through my system. It took everything I had not to crack my palm across his handsome face.
“Why don’t you tell me all of them, princess?” he tossed back into my face. “Besides, I know you’re dying to provide me with a full dossier on what you’ve learned about me since our adventure together. Prove me wrong that you don’t want me and that you haven’t come to the conclusion I’m the only man who can satisfy you.”
I was momentarily so shocked by his outlandish arrogance that no words came to mind, no barbs of any kind. I sensed at least a couple of the customers watching my interaction, curious as to what we were discussing with such vehemence. “God. I can’t stand you.”
“All evidence to the contrary. However, keep in mind that I’m likely much worse than any man you’ve ever encountered. But go for it. I’m all ears.”
“There is no doubt that you’ve always been vile, brutal, and uncaring. I doubt you have any clue what love or caring for someone means.” For a few seconds, a flash of anger shadowed the amusement he was getting from my discomfort.
Arman’s jaw clenched and he tilted his head, highlighting his aristocratic features. “Concerned you won’t be right, princess?”
“Concerned you can’t handle the truth.”
The way he sipped his coffee was far too sexy, the man making me crazy. “I’m up for the task. Give me your best shot.”
He was even more arrogant than I remembered. “You choose to use your good looks as a weapon, whether in your legitimate or illegitimate businesses, claiming the center of attention simply by walking into a room. You’re anal retentive, which is denoted by the attention you pay to your wardrobe. The fact your curly hair isn’t coiffed and perfect given the warm, humid breeze is probably driving you crazy. My guess is that you shower twice daily, spend the exact amount of time inside your precious gym to the minute, and have never once dared to try anything remotely spectacular in your plain. Black. Boring. Coffee.” As a split second of fury rushed into his eyes like shimmers of glass shattered on a marble floor, I smiled.
And went in for the kill.
“How am I doing so far, big boy? Do my words sting to the point you long to shut me up, which is what you do to anyone who gets in your way or challenges you? Yes?” I moved from behind the counter, folding my arms. For all my bravado, my legs continued to shake, but not enough to give away the terror skipping through every muscle and vein.
When he said nothing, I gave myself a mental high five.
“You’re certain of yourself,” he said as he lifted a single eyebrow and I sensed I’d ruffled his feathers.
“I know your type, Mr. Thibodeaux. Whatever you’re hiding has stripped you of everything but rage and hatred. How sad because that split second I was allowed inside I almost enjoyed what I found. Almost.” I knew I’d pushed my limit and was far too lightheaded to continue.
“You might be surprised at my type.”
“Do you ever have fun? Do you ever let go and act carefree or are the only things allowed in your world bloodshed and violence?” While I kept my voice low to ensure none of the other guests or Amy heard me, I couldn’t seem to help myself. His gaze became more pointed, angry in a way that I sensed I would pay for.
He took a deep breath, holding it as he dared to walk closer, so much so he crowded my space completely, sparking an overwhelming desire to reach out and brush my fingers down the side of his face. It seemed he’d purposely gone without shaving, the incredible stubble covering his jaw accentuating his stunning good looks. He was even more handsome in the bright rays of sun, his skin lightly bronzed, but it was his thick luxurious hair that I wanted to run my fingers through the most.
Pulling at it while he fucked me like a wild animal.
Since I was wearing tennis shoes, he towered over me, his presence reminding of that he was a chiseled god.
“Why don’t you share with me what you believe to be fun.”
“In Baton Rouge?”
“In general, lovely Raven. I’m more than curious.”
A lump formed in my throat, the hard pulse on the side of my neck drawing his attention. Why did I have the feeling he wanted to bite into my vein, sucking my blood? I shuddered from the thought, so drawn to the rich intensity of his whiskey eyes that I almost forgot what he’d asked.
“Taking a walk by a river’s edge or on the shores of an ocean in my bare feet. Grabbing an ice cream cone and heading to a dog park, laughing at the antics of the pups as they play with each other. Crashing a wedding just to grab a glass of champagne and signing the registry book. Taking off all my clothes and frolicking in a fountain on a night where the moon is bright in the sky. Staring at Christmas tree lights for hours, drinking hot cocoa while singing holiday tunes to strangers. Enjoying a lazy Sunday watching old movies while drinking mimosas.” I found myself chuckling after telling such silly thoughts, but they were all true.
And I’d never told anyone else that in my entire life. Why him?
I expected him to make fun of me, chiding every idea as if they were dumbest things he’d ever heard in the world. He was rich. He likely preferred jetting off to Paris or maybe Sicily versus doing something so banal.
“Every one of those suggestions sounds wonderful, Raven. I would love to share them with someone special.”
