Page 10 of The Arrangement

"It’s no longer just about what you want. It's about what I want too.”

There’s nothing more to be said.

He moves closer, his hands finding my hips with a certainty that sends shivers down my spine. He pulls me into a deep kiss, a rush of desire and power swirling between us, the shop around us fading into nothingness.

He presses me against him, his hardness against my thigh.

But it’s what I want. His lips part, his tongue finding mine. God, he tastes good. His tongue probes me, my pussy growing wetter by the second. There’s no resistance from me, even though I should know better than to give myself to a man like him, a man so dangerous.

He reaches behind me, pulling off my apron and tossing it aside. My hands are busy on the pearl buttons of his dress shirt, opening them one by one, exposing his upper body. His chest is covered in strange tattoos that look almost religious.

I sweep my hands over his massive, sculpted chest, his lips curling into a sneer of pleasure, as if he knows exactly what kind of an effect he’s having on me.

Before I can spend too much time ogling him, Maksim wraps his huge arm around my waist, pulling me close. Those dark eyes, deep pools of desire, are locked onto mine. He reaches down to the hem of my dress, pulling it up and exposing the light blue thong I have on.

I feel exposed, my gaze flicking to the window to make sure no one’s watching. The store’s closed, but still…

Thunder rumbles in the distance, rain coming down hard, but my attention is on Maksim, that hungry, sensual expression he wears as his hand moves up, up, all the way to my pussy. He touches me through the fabric of my panties, teasing my clit.

“Does that feel good?” he growls.

“So… so good.”

“You’re mine now,” he says, his tone brooking no dispute. “All mine.”

The pleasure is so intense all I can do is nod. He takes his hand away and I want it back so goddamn badly.

“Go to the counter,” he says. “Now.”

I feel like I’m under a spell. I do as he asks without hesitation, my legs a bit wobbly from the excitement, my steps ungainly.

“Pull your dress up.”

I obey. I can feel his gaze locked onto my ass, devouring me with his eyes.

“Pull down your panties.”

I do it. The air is cool against my bare pussy.

He steps over, his dress shoes clicking against the floor. He puts one hand on my hip, the other undoing his zipper. I close my eyes, ready to feel him, ready for Maksim to plunge inside, and-

Thump.

The train hits a bump hard enough to yank me from my fantasy. The dream shatters, leaving me blinking against the harsh fluorescent light of the L train. It's morning, still dark out, the early hours casting a blue tint over Chicago as it starts to wake.

I sit up, realizing I'd dozed off on my way to work. It was a fantasy, nothing more, yet it feels like a betrayal of my own resolve. Why him, of all people? Maksim Morozov, a man who represented the kind of danger I’d vowed to stay away from.

The train jostles along the tracks, carrying me closer to another day at the shop, another day fighting to keep my head above water. The dream, unsettling as it is, underscores the loneliness that's been my constant companion since Ned's mess became mine. It's a reminder of my desires, buried down deep but still there.

The sickest part of it was that I wasn’t even coming from my home, but from Ty’s place where he’d let me crash for the night and take a shower. I’d lost my apartment during the breakup with Ned, and by that point the shop had been so all-consuming that I hadn’t had the time or the money to get another place.

When I’d found out the shop had an old-school Murphy bed in the back, that sealed the deal. The shop also came equipped with a shower stall, so I was all set. But occasionally I liked to sleep in an apartment and bathe in a larger shower. Ty offered often, but I didn’t want to be a burden.

As the train pulls into my stop, I shake off the remnants of the dream, getting psyched up for the day ahead. Stepping off, the cold morning air bites at my skin, a harsh jolt back to reality.

I'm at the shop by the ungodly hour of 4:45 AM, the quiet before the storm. The first arrivals, two golden retrievers named Jack and Sam, whose owners are nurses pulling twelve-hour shifts, expect nothing less than their preferred doggie beds side by side, complete with an assortment of toys I laid out the night before.

The shop, a haven for pups Monday through Friday -closed on the weekends, thank God- quickly becomes a bustling hub of activity, a total contrast to the silence of the early morning.

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