Page 120 of Their Arrangement
He leaned in.
Not to threaten.
To scent me.
His mouth was close enough to kiss.
Close enough to bite.
I closed my eyes.
“OrI’llbe the one dressing you.”
The words shattered me.
Heat pooled low in my belly.
His voice was low. Brutal. Owned.
“And you might not like what I have in mind.”
A pause.
And then—softer.
Almost cruel in its softness:
“Or… considering your browsing history…”
He tilted his head.
Eyes met mine again.
Dark.
Sharp.
Possessive.
“You just might.”
My knees almost gave out.
But I stood there.
Burning.
Ruined.
Wanting.
He watched me another breath.
Then turned.
Left me there—holding six hundred dollars in trembling hands, shame pressed against my skin, and something much worse pounding between my legs.
And when the door clicked shut behind him?
