Page 65 of Forever Mr Black

Art’s voice jolts me out of my anxiety-induced daydream. He leans against the doorframe of the walk-in wardrobe, naked, apart from a pair of black jeans. “You’ve been staring at your clothes for ages.”

I smile weakly and turn back to the clothes hanging on the rails. “I’m a bit nervous,” I admit.

“About confronting her?”

I shrug. “About it all. I’ve never been anywhere like Savage before.”

“Whatever you think it’s going to be like, it’s probably not that bad,” he assures, walking up to me.

I’ve got to get over my nerves and deal with it. I’m determined not to be a weak link.

Focus, Soph.

I pull out my black jeans. “I’m thinking black. So I don’t stand out.”

“Don’t be nervous. Everyone will be far too wrapped up in their own business to notice us.” Art stands behind me and rests his hands on my shoulders. “It’s a shame we’re kind of on a deadline right now.”

He brushes his hand through my hair and steps closer. I feel the heat from his bare chest against my back and sink my teeth into my bottom lip to suppress a shiver of need. He’s read my thoughts.

“Because you’re wearing my favourite thing in the world.”

My eyes slide down my body to my black lace bra and knickers. He places a teasingly light kiss on my neck, and I let out a sigh—I’m helpless. Savage, Tara, and what we’re about to do fall away from my thoughts. I want him to move those big hands of his lower—off my shoulders, down my back, sweep them across my stomach, and lower still, making me come undone.

He steps up even closer, pressing his chest against my back and his erection into my buttocks. “I’m aching to unwrap you.”

“Touch me,” I whisper.

“If I do”—he traces his fingertips across the tops of my shoulders, sending every nerve in my body pinging to attention— “I won’t stop until I’m balls deep inside you and you’re screaming my name.”

A long breath leaves my body in disappointment as he removes his hands from my shoulders and steps back from me, like he doesn’t trust himself to be that close to me any longer.

“We’d fuck the plan up for tonight, but that would definitely get you to relax.” There’s a smile in his voice.

“It definitely would.”

“Later,” his voice rasps in my ear, making me jump.

I glance round. His jeans cling to his tight backside as he swaggers out the door in a way that suggests he knows he’s being ogled.

I can’t help but smile. Cocky git.

I step into black skinny jeans and pull on a black jumper, leaving my hair loose. I shrug on my short black leather jacket and walk into the bedroom. Art is sitting at the end of the bed, scrolling through his mobile, looking up when I enter.

I scan his all-black ensemble—boots, jeans, and jumper. There’s something familiar about this get-up.

“Do you always wear black when you … do this stuff?” I pull my hair out of the collar of my jacket and watch as he glances down at his clothes in confusion.

“How do you mean?”

I point at what he’s wearing. “The other night, when I asked you to … show me your past, you wore black.”

“Yes, I suppose I did.” He looks at me thoughtfully and stands. “Black’s nondescript, I guess. It doesn’t give much of me away. The real me, I mean.” He takes my hands in his. “How are you feeling now?”

I scrunch up my nose. “Slightly better. I still feel a bit nervous.”

“Don’t. Everything’s been arranged. The worst Tara can do is storm out without telling us anything. After tonight, we’ll have a better idea about what she’s told Theo and how much he knows.” He gives my hands a squeeze. “He’s a loose cannon, and I want to know what, if anything, he’s got planned.”

Part of me doesn’t want to know what’s going on in Theo’s warped mind, but I know we need to find out the truth.

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