Page 15 of The Arrangement

By 6:30, the last dog has trotted out the door with her owner, leaving the shop in a rare state of quiet. Ty and I retreat to my small office, a space crammed with paperwork and dreams, to tackle the never-ending battle with the books. The numbers sprawl across the table between us. For the first time, we're teetering on the edge of profit, a milestone that seems both monumental and terrifyingly fragile.

"You need to start paying yourself, Tory," Ty insists, his tone serious. He's been on me about this for weeks, concerned that my all-in approach to the business is taking its toll. "Living out of this office is not good for you."

I sigh, rubbing the bridge of my nose as I lean back in my chair. "Just a few more months," I reassure him, more hopeful than certain. "Once we're on solid ground, I'll figure out a better setup."

Ty shakes his head, unconvinced. "And until then? I mean, seriously, you can shower and crash at my place whenever you want – God knows it’s empty enough there now that Thomas and I are done and he’s gone. But this…” He gestures vaguely at the cramped space that serves as my living quarters as much as my command center, “sorry, but you deserve better.”

I can't help but laugh, a brief respite from the weight of our conversation. "What, you don't think the industrial dog shower is good enough?" I joke, trying to lighten the mood. "I'll be fine until we’re on good footing. Really, Ty, I've got this."

He looks at me, a mix of frustration and concern in his eyes, but he knows better than to push the issue further. We've danced this dance too many times, and he understands my stubbornness as much as he worries about it.

Ty pivots to the date, already planning it out for me. Just tossing in the fact I'm stepping out with Maksim sends my nerves into overdrive. I mean, it's been a hot minute since I've been on any kind of date, let alone with someone like him.

"You're gonna nail it," Ty assures me with a chuckle, clearly finding my dating rust amusing. "Guys are all the same."

I roll my eyes. "Except Maksim isn't just any guy."

He throws me one of those over-the-top winks, adding, "Maybe so, but hey, just have fun. Maybe even... you know," he teases, miming a kiss and wiggling his eyebrows.

I launch a paperclip his way, a pitiful but immediate comeback. He catches it, laughing.

“You sure you don’t want to stay over tonight? We can watch Love Island…”

“It’s tempting. But I don’t want to wear out my welcome.”

“You’re not even close to that, but I know better than to press. See you in the morning, Tor.” With that, he’s off, locking the door behind him.

So here I am, closing up shop alone with my racing thoughts and a simmering combination of excitement and outright terror. Going on a date with Maksim Morozov is no small deal. It's a leap into the unknown, a dive into deep waters where the current could either sweep me off my feet or pull me under. And despite the whirlwind of what-ifs, I'm somehow stepping right into it—no looking back.

Even though it's still early, I'm totally beat. I turn off the computer, grab my bag, and head to the bathroom to get ready for bed. I quickly change, taking off my stinky work clothes and putting on a long Taste of Chicago sleeping shirt.

Once I'm cozied up in the Murphy bed, my little makeshift slice of heaven in the shop, I give my phone a quick scroll. My heart's not in it, and before I know it, I'm chucking the phone aside. Maksim's taken up residence in my head, and man, he's not making it easy to think about anything else.

I’m turned on beyond belief and suddenly not so tired. Knowing what will cure my ills, I reach into the bag beside my bed and pull out my battery-operated boyfriend. After peeling off my panties, I flick on the vibrator and press it to my clit, just where I need it. The pleasure is immediately intense, and after taking a moment to get used to the warmth flowing through me, I close my eyes and drift away.

He waltzes into my office like a scene straight out of my wildest daydreams. The dim light from outside throws his shadow across the room, making him look both mysterious and ridiculously attractive.

"Maksim?" I blurt out. Even in my fantasies, I’m not sure how to handle him.

He doesn’t waste time with small talk. A few steps and he’s right there, pulling me close. His hands land on my hips, sending that familiar jolt of excitement through me. He squeezes my flesh, as if savoring the sensation of my curves underneath his touch.

"Tory," he says, and damn, if his voice isn’t the sexiest thing.

My heart's thumping in my chest, but I manage to nod to him, and with my surrender, we're kissing. It's not just any kiss, though. It's like he's answering all the questions I didn't even know I had, and God, does it feel right. In that moment, with Maksim's lips on mine, the world outside might as well not exist. It's just him and me and this crazy-intense thing sparking between us. It's wild, reckless, and absolutely thrilling.

Back in the real world, I angle the vibrator so it hits my clit in just the right way.

In the fantasy we’re stripping one another out of our clothes, Maksim undoing the clasp of my bra and sliding the straps down my shoulders. Every new bit of bare skin he covers in kisses, and my breasts are no exception. He licks and sucks my nipples, the pleasure intense.

I reach down and grab his cock through his slacks. He’s rock-hard, practically throbbing in my grasp. He growls as I stroke him. Not able to wait a moment longer, I undo his leather belt and zipper, pulling down his pants and his boxer-briefs, his dripping manhood leaping out into my grasp.

“You taste so goddamn good,” he says, his voice a sensual purr, totally irresistible.

Once more, his hands are on my hips. This time, he guides me back to the little Murphy bed and tosses me onto it, a squeal of delight shooting from my lips as I land, the springs squeaking underneath me.

He’s standing before me like a damn Greek god, his powerful, sculpted, tattooed body on full display, his hands on his hips, his cock spear-straight just above his slightly-pulled-down pants. He reaches down and grabs his shaft.

“You want this?” he asks.

---