Page 49 of Arrogant Bastard

She huffs out a breath. “And why do you think that is?”

I shrug. “I could tell you but you’d just get madder at me. And I really want to get on your good side.”

My gaze, drawn like magnets, returns to her tits and the saucy pebbles of her nipples. She allows me to watch for a couple of minutes before she stands and paces a few steps to the window.

Her body framed against the glass like that, and with her back to me, I can’t help but stare some more, at her ass cradled by the skintight leather. My breath hisses out and my cock strains against my fly. Christ, I’m definitely going to need to jack off if I have any hope of sleeping tonight. For a second, I contemplate the to-hell-with-it approach to getting inside her, but then I remind myself that, even though it feels like a fucking decade, she’s been back in my life for just over twenty-four hours.

She raises her arms above her head and rises up on her toes in a slow feline stretch. Then her fingers sink into her hair. She plays with the silky strands, twisting and bunching them before she shakes the heavy weight down her back. The ends fall precisely on the rise of her sweet butt and pull my gaze back to that part of her body and that naughty little triangle between her legs.

Still perched on her tiptoes, she slowly swivels around to face me, displaying her supple body in all its curved and sleek glory.

My fingers grip the armrests. Saliva fills my mouth, and my whole body throbs with raging need. “Baby…” My voice is a hoarse plea.

She looks over, eyes at half-mast, and she gives me a bored yawn. “I’m going to bed. Good night, Killian.”

My head slams back against the seat, and I shut my eyes. “Fuck.” Five minutes after she’s gone, I’m still breathing like I’ve run a damn marathon. I’ve debated with myself, tried reasoning with my steel-hard cock to no avail. My fingers fumble with my fly. I’m ready to give myself some desperately needed relief when Betty cock-blocks me with a series of sweet chirps from her mainframe.

I drag my eyes open and stare at the screen. At first I’m not sure what I’m looking at. And then a few things become clear.

Fucking hell.

Chapter Fourteen

B

I have no one to blame but myself for not being able to sleep. I could’ve taken the high road. Or ignored everything Killian said in Axel’s office.

Instead, I had to goad him. Now I lie in bed, the ache between my thighs an ever-expanding balloon of agonizing need that shrieks for attention. I toss onto my side, the other reason for my insomnia staring me in the face.

I left my box back at the club. I couldn’t very well retrieve it with Killian dogging my every footstep, hovering closer than my shadow. And since I don’t know if or when I’ll be returning, the anxiety that’s been eating away at me is escalating.

I toyed with calling Axel when I came to my room earlier, but after witnessing the nauseating male bonding between him and Killian, I can’t trust that he won’t let something slip if they ever meet again.

An instant later, a twinge of discomfort snags at me for distrusting him. He trusted me enough to let me take care of him when he visited his punishment room. I trusted him enough to let him look in on me when I visited mine, although I haven’t done that for a long time now. I’ve allowed other people’s need for absolution to suppress my own, despite my every intention of keeping the box close so that I’d have a constant reminder. Since I spend…spent more time at the club than at my own apartment, I thought it better to just leave it there.

Now, the possibility that I might not have it close for a while burns me with acid guilt. It’s what propels me out of bed at four in the morning when I finally give up hope of sleeping. I need to get it back.

I grab my phone and send Axel a quick text.

He’s already awake or my message has woken him. Either probability doesn’t please him.

Axel: Can you tell the time, B?

My anxiety is too high for me to indulge in our usual derisive banter.

Me: My box from my room on the sixth floor. I need it delivered. Discreetly.

The bubbling cloud shows he’s replying to my message.

Axel: Sure. Name time and place for delivery.

Relief punches through me.

Me: Thank you. I’ll let you know. I owe you.

Axel: Lunch with Cleo when you’re done sorting your shit out. For some insane reason, she likes you.

Me: Deal.

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