Page 33 of Arran's Obsession

Silence played out through the rooms. I’d taken a shower, lights off, and climbed into bed naked, not wanting to put back on the t-shirt that was dirty with dried blood. Nor had I wanted to snoop in drawers. My fingers had been well and truly burned.

In the room beyond the bedroom, the door clicked.

“It’s me,” Arran said into the dark.

It had been a couple of hours since he’d locked me in. He appeared in the doorway. “Awake?”

“Yep,” I squeaked.

“Why are the lights off?”

Because fear kept me alive. Because it meant I wasn’t sitting here in a spotlight where anyone could see me. I didn’t answer, and he tried again.

“Hungry?”

I shook my head, then said my answer out loud. “No.”

“Is there anything you need? If not, I’ll take a shower.”

I repeated myno, and he disappeared into the bathroom. I gave it a few seconds then leapt from the bed and darted out of the room to the exit. The handle moved, but the door stayed locked. My heart sank. I returned to bed.

Water ran in the room next door, and I tried hard not to picture Arran’s naked body. But now I’d seen almost all of it, since he’d been inside me, it was a losing battle.

Eventually, the water stopped, and he emerged back into the bedroom, naked and with the faint dawn light outlining him insilver. He scrubbed himself down with a towel, draped it over a chair, then climbed into bed next to me.

I tugged the sheets to my throat. “What are you doing?”

Arran thumped a pillow into shape then dropped down heavily. “Since you’re playing ignorant about the rules, I’ll remind you of the most relevant. We’re stuck together. For the first week, we barely leave each other’s side. We sleep together and eat together.”

“You’ll sleep in my bed?”

“It’s my bed, and aye, I will.” He waited a beat, then his tone darkened. “And we fuck, daily.”

My heart thumped. “You’d force yourself on me again?”

A rush of bedclothes and he was over me, his forehead to mine, that frustration back in spades. Sweet brandy laced his breath, but it wasn’t that which stole my focus.

Even in the dark, bruises shone on his face, his eye swelling shut and his lip cut and thick.

“Force you? When did I do that the first time? You forced me by the shit you pulled. And don’t forget, in my fucking office, you gave me consent. You agreed to fuck me whenever I wanted, then you put yourself into a position where I had to oblige. So do me the courtesy of dropping the fake shock.”

Against my body, he was hard, his dick pinned between us.

Desire rushed and pooled at my core.

“Are you going to do it now?” I whispered.

Arran inched back. Swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, just visible in the dark. Propped on his elbow, he watched me, some of the desperation in him easing. “We already did tonight, so you’re safe. Or maybe that’s me.”

Cautiously, I rolled to face him, less afraid than I had the right to be. “What happened to your face?”

“Irrelevant. A woman was killed on your street the night I visited your flat.”

I recoiled, ice cold suddenly despite the warm room. A thought rose, something I hadn’t considered. Arran had been there the night Cherry died. Cherry was a sex worker, though she wasn’t employed by him. Was her murder revenge for working outside of his cartel? God, was I here because I was a potential witness and he needed to stop me from talking?

The shock of the events of the past few days twisted into a terrible conclusion. “Was it you?”

“Was what me?”

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