Page 70 of The Arrogant's Surrender

A strange feeling hits me as I realize I’m lying naked in the bed of a gorgeous, powerful Greek man who is light-years away from my world.

He called me his girlfriend yesterday, but wasn’t that because I admitted I needed a label?

Suddenly, the dreamlike atmosphere dissolves and shame crashes over me.

Athanasios must be used to having women like me every day of the week, and what we did must mean nothing to him.

I’m extremely sensitive to any emotional distance, perhaps because I experienced so much of it during my childhood and in the little over a year I lived with Moses. This feeling of inadequacy, of being out of place, works like a kind of poison in me.

I think about what to do. Should I get up and look for my clothes? If I remember correctly, the dress was left somewhere between the living room and the hallway.

I usually have no issues with my body, but having given myself to him so completely and now seeing this unreadable expression on his face makes me feel vulnerable.

“I think I’ll take a shower,” I say, sitting up with my back to him, my feet already touching the floor. “May I?”

“Look at me.”

I turn slowly, summoning all my willpower not to cover my breasts; I won’t let him see how I’m feeling.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just really want to take a shower,” I say, biting the inside of my cheek to keep my emotions in check. I stand up, holding my head high as if being naked in front of this Greek god is no big deal. “Where’s the bathroom?” I insist.

He stands as well, completely at ease with his own body, and stops in front of me. “You can’t hide what you’re feeling from me,” he says, surprising me.

“The only thing I’m feeling right now is the need for a shower.”

He lets his gaze roam over my body, a playful glint in his eyes, and one corner of his mouth lifts in an almost-smile. “I like the thought of my cum inside you.”

“That’s something a caveman would say.”

“Yeah, it is, but in my defense, I’ve never wanted to come inside a woman before.”

I put some distance between us because I’m afraid of doing something foolish. The very thought of him with another woman is driving me mad.

“Bathroom, please,” I repeat.

He grabs my arm. “Did I offend you? How? What did I do?”

“You didn’t offend me. I couldn’t care less.”

“You’re lying, but I still don’t know what happened. You said you were afraid of ruining everything with words, yet apparently, I’m the one doing just that.”

“No, I’m fine. I don’t care about how many sexual partners you’ve had.”

He looks at me, frowning. “Is that why you’re upset?”

“No, it’s because, like I told you, I’m not into casual relationships, and you’re acting like I’m just a fling.”

“You’re not a fling, and I’m not acting that way. I’m trying to show you how unique you are in my life. You have no idea who I am, Brooklyn. I don’t lie in bed with women after sex.”

“Stop, or we’re going to have a big fight.”

“Why?” He looks genuinely confused.

“Alright. Why bother with dignity, right?” I ask, more to myself than to him. “I don’t like hearing about your past partners.”

“I didn’t talk aboutpartners. I said, in general, that I’ve never wanted to come inside a woman before and that I don’t share my bed after sex.”

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