Page 3 of Bitter Arrangement

I groan, shaking my head. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m losing patience. If you don’t hurry, I’m going to come home and helpyou.”

The edge in his voice makes my eyes go wide. It’s a sharp, erotic anger, and I find a thrill sparking between my legs.

This is crazy. It’s absolutely insane. But what choice do I have?

Besides, I’m going to marry this guy in a month.

Sooner or later, he’s going to see me in my underwear, and I might as well break that ice now.

Nothing’s making me do this. I can turn around and walk right out of here. I’m willing to bet he’s bluffing. He doesn’t want to complicate our future arrangement any more than I do, and ratting me out to my family is definitely going to make things hard.

I still don’t move. That thrill’s still in my guts. And there’s the real problem with me.

I’m impulsive to the point of recklessness at the best of times, and I’m not working at peak capacity right now.

“Screw it,” I mutter and rip off my top. I’m wearing a simple black tank, a sports bra, black running tights, and a pair of black panties. There’s a slight sheen of sweat on my skin. I jogged over here as a cover for my long absence this afternoon.

“There you go. That’s a good girl.”

Holy fuck. I shiver at that voice. I’ve never been called a good girl like that before in my life. His voice drips with sin and promise.

I quickly pull the shirt on and start to button it, but he clucks his tongue with disapproval.

“Bottoms too, my thief. Wear it like a dress.”

“You’re getting a little too demanding,” I say through my teeth.

“Should I call the police then? Or maybe I should skip all that and go straight to Liam?”

That fucker. He’s got to be bluffing. But I like that he’s being so damn assertive. My jaw works with frustration as I kick off my running shoes. I’m burning with embarrassment and tingling from pure sexual excitement as I peel off the tights and toss them aside.

“Happy now?” I ask, glaring everywhere at once, not sure where I’m supposed to look.

The shirt hits me mid-thigh. It’s baggy on top, and if I weren’t wearing a bra, he’d be getting a nice little show. I can smell him even stronger now, the scent sending little wafts of excitement into my core.

Something beeps in the ceiling. I blink and realize it’s a single red LED. The camera descends from a recessed container that blends perfectly with the paint job and swivels to stare at me.

“Spin,” he says.“Let me look at my future wife.”

“Fucking prick,” I mutter, but I do as he says. The shirt’s big, but I feel totally exposed. I despise following orders, but given the situation, the fact that he’s staring at me and sounds as though he likes it, I’m shaking with pure arousal.

Breaking rules always gets my blood pumping, and this is messed up on so many levels.

“Are you happy now?” I ask, breathing fast.

“You look beautiful, Riley, wearing my shirt. If I were there, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands to myself. Fuck, you don’t know how hard you’re making me right now.”

Holy shit.

That velvet voice is like honey in my ears. I can almost feel his hot breath on my neck. It sounds like he’s whispering right into my head, and I feel dizzy with excitement. The rush of this is driving me crazy. I’m breaking so many rules and crossing a ton of lines, and I absolutely love it.

This is what I live for.

Passion. Excitement. Danger.

Everything a sweet little McGrath girl should never, ever want.

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