Page 3 of The Arrangement 25 (The Arrangement 25)

I snort. “Nice grammar, Mr. Prep School. So, what’d you do while Bella was sewing this outfit?”

“I went shopping for myself, made a few calls.”

“Calls?” I stop walking and stand in the middle of the city sidewalk. The sun is setting and it’s getting chilly.

“That’s the part you want to ask about?” Sean stops, turning toward me as he rubs his hands up and down my arms. “Really? You don’t want to ask if I engaged with the orgy couples? Or what I bought?”

I smirk up at him. His eyes don’t stray. I’ve noticed. I humor him. “Did you join them?”

His sapphire eyes bore into mine. “No. I have exactly what I want.”

Swallowing hard, I nod. My teeth graze my lower lip, feeling that more is coming as we start walking again, his fingers thread with mine. “And the phone call?”

He swings our hands as a playful grin spreads across his face. “To Dr. Liz.”

I stop suddenly, lurching him around to face me. “Why?”

“I wanted to see if it would be safe for you to do certain things. I was given guidelines, assurances, and told specific directions. The doctor gave me her cell number too.”

I frown at him, feeling my cheeks heat. “What did you ask her that would make her give you her number?”

He shrugs. “Nothing. I was completely honest.” He leans forward and presses his lips to my ear, whispering what he told her—the things he wants to do to me.

Jaw flapping, I step back and giggle, shoving him in the chest and then turning to walk away as nonsensical words tumble out of my mouth. I gape at him. “You said that! To her?”

He nods. “Why not?”

“Because!” I shove his chest again.

“Your face is bright red, badass. Are you embarrassed?” Sean chuckles as his gaze sweeps over me, taking in my reaction.

“No!” It’s a huge lie. I’m dying inside. I want to cover my face and hide under a sewer cap. Maybe after we do the things he asked about. I glance up at him from between my fingertips. “Well?”

Sean laughs, those dark lashes lowering as he examines me. As he steps toward me, he rests his hands on my waist, “Well, what Miss Smith?”

The smile on my face is so big that it’s going to eat my head. “You know, what! Tell me what she said.”

People around us stop and stare. A camera flash goes off as a paparazzo steals a shot of us. He doesn’t run this time. The guy lingers as he should, but his camera hovers by his eye, ready to grab another picture should the moment arise.

Sean gives him the picture, let’s the guy take the shot. Sean leans in and kisses my cheek. His arms around my waist, hands resting on my belly. Those warm luscious lips pressed to my cheek. My hands are on top of his, lashes lowered, face still crimson. The bit of wind that blows lifts my hair and the flash goes off. When I look up, the guy with the camera is gone.

I glance at Sean. “You did that on purpose.”

“I did no such thing.” He’s so close that I can feel his warmth. We’re toe-to-toe on a city sidewalk. Even though there are people around, it feels intimate.

“Yes, you did,” I insist. Sean’s a breath away now. Inching closer to my face, his eyes locked on my lips. “You gave him that shot.”

“Maybe. Maybe I wanted it.” Those blue eyes dart up and meet mine. He lifts a brow and confesses, “I refuse to use a selfie stick.”

I honk out a laugh, pressing my hands to my belly. Tears form at the edges of my eyes as I feel a tiny foot brush my ribs. I finally smile up at him again. “So, tell me. What did she say?”

Sean leans in close. “The doc said yes.”

This time the blush spreads to consume my entire body.

CHAPTER 6

We meander back to the penthouse. I’m feeling better than usual, less like a floundering crazy person. I hope it doesn’t vanish, so I try to live in the moment and not think about anything else.

Sean takes care of dinner, working in the kitchen. The smell fills the place, finally reaching me back in the bedroom where I’m sitting on a leather chair, reading a book. The scent lures me from the room. I’ve kicked off the shoes and stockings, but I still have on the half corset and skirt. Padding down the hallway, I find Sean in the kitchen with an apron tucked tightly around his narrow waist, holding a saucepan. He tips it to the side, spilling the contents over a bed of noodles.

My mouth waters. “Oh my God, is that what I think it is?”

“Fettuccini and veal scaloppini. Just for you.” He flicks his gaze up and holds mine, a smile spreads across his lips. “Plus, a little bottle of baby-friendly booze.”

“Really?” He nods, pointing toward a bag on the counter as he dishes up the food.

“It smells so good.” I want to lick the pan right now. I open the brown paper bag on the counter and look inside. There’s a pink shiny bottle. It’s a mini champagne bottle. “What is this?”

“It’s a non-alcoholic rosé sparkling apple cider.”

“Where’d you find it?” I try to open the bottle and can’t, so I just walk it to the table and put it down.

“This is New York. You can find anything if you look.” Sean carries out two plates of food, that apron still tucked around his waist. He looks so good and I haven’t been with him for a while. I miss the feel of

his skin beneath my hands. He glances up at me. “Sit.”

I practically orgasm over the food. It’s light and delicious. Oddly, the cider is perfectly paired with the meal. Sean has some too, skipping his usual scotch. When we’ve finished eating, he watches me, his eyes dipping to the corset top. “Is that comfortable? I’m surprised you didn’t take it off right away.”

I rip off a piece of bread and pop it in my mouth. Nodding, I confess, “Yeah, I didn’t think I’d be able to wear it like this. It’s like a sports bra but has more support. Lifts instead of smooshing.” I smile and glance up at him. “I love it. This was a great gift. Thank you.”

“I bought you something else today.” He lifts a bag with Bella’s logo on it. Puts it on the table.

I press my lips together and lift my eyes to meet his. Heart pounding, I ask, “Is this what you asked the doctor about?”

“Yes.”

“And you want to do this tonight?”

He leans forward, intense, and takes my hand. “If you want to.”

The truth is, I don’t know what I want. I’m angry. I haven’t wanted to do something where I took it out on him by accident. I’m suddenly looking at the wall, avoiding his gaze.

“Avery, tell me.” His words are kind. An invitation.

Lifting my lashes, I glance back at him and confess. The swirl of emotions is so unpredictable. The anger. The rage. It’s not gone. “I don’t want to hurt you or the baby. I don’t want to lose control because I don’t know what I’ll do.”

He nods slowly, steepling his fingers together. Watches me, considers his words, and says, “Look in the bag and then tell me your answer. We can find something else to do. Or you can choose that. It’s your call. I won’t push you.”

Hesitantly, I reach for the bag and pull it toward me. I reach in and feel several sensations—silk, leather, wood. I pull out items one at a time and turn them over in my hands. Leather cuffs with chains. Silk ribbons. A soft blindfold. A feather duster made with fine soft down. Shimmering powder. And a bundle of straps. The spot between my legs is warm from just talking about this.

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