Arranged(82)

I shrugged. “It’s possible.”

He swallowed hard, his eyes wide and fierce. “Don’t fuck him.”

I glared at him. “You have no right—”

“I have every right,” he said, voice low and ringing with sincerity. “I can be patient. I’ll wait for you however long it takes. I deserve to wait. But make no mistake—signing some papers doesn’t mean I’m not still yours, and you’re not still mine.”





BANKS


The weekly dates were always sweet torture.

I called them dates, she called them meetings.

I memorized them all. One hour once a week. Memorized.

Carved in bloody letters on my heart.

First, to look at her, to see her, my eyes taking her in, in person—no photo lens between us. It made my teeth clench so hard they ached.

So many rules—don’t touch, don’t kiss, don’t drag her somewhere private. Don’t hold on and refuse to let her go after my hour was up.

So much longing. So much deprivation.

I took it all. I deserved it all.

Her beauty is world class and world renowned, but the most devastating thing about her is her smile, and it stung more than a little that she used it more often now than she ever did when she was with me.

I hated myself for stating my case to her again. I had no fucking right, but seeing her with someone else made me too desperate to try to retain even an ounce of my pride, let alone to respect anything as intangible as fucking fairness.

No, I didn’t have the right, but I was going there anyway.

I got myself under control. Sort of. Barely. Temporarily.

When it was time to say goodbye, I completely lost my mind. I grabbed her, pulling her to me until our faces were close.

Oh God, to smell her, to feel her.

“I need you,” I rasped into her ear.

She looked away, one lone tear running down her face. “You’re so cruel, Banks. Why are you like this?”

I kissed her cheek, licking the tear away. “I haven’t been with anyone else,” I whispered. “I haven’t so much as looked at another woman. I’m still waiting for you. I’ll wait forever. I haven’t given up, and I won’t.”

We were both panting.

Chester got between us.

I grabbed his shirt. I wanted to hit him, but I was trying really hard not to. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I snarled at him.

He gave me a look that was hard to decipher, but I could see that his eyes were more sympathetic than anything else.

That sobered me up a bit.

“I’m doing my job, and your stunt back there is going to end up as a headline. How about we quit now before you embarrass her even more?”

I looked at Noura. “Let’s go somewhere to talk. Somewhere, anywhere with privacy. Please, Noura.”

She wasn’t looking at me, she seemed completely withdrawn, so it shocked me when she answered with, “Just to talk?”

“Whatever you want,” I told her, because I couldn’t figure out what her question meant.

Chester craned his head around to give her a look. “Duchess?” The word was chock-full of disbelief.

She wouldn’t look at him either, and her voice was paper thin when she told us both, “We’ll take my car.”

We went to her apartment. She didn’t speak to me on the drive. She stayed plastered against her side of the car, face turned away.

I opened my mouth to speak several times, but made myself stay silent. This was the most I’d gotten from her since the divorce, and I was trying hard not to blow it. Besides that, I preferred not to have an audience even if we were just going to talk.

I was dead wrong. She wasn’t interested in talking at all.

We didn’t make it to her bed; we didn’t make it beyond her entryway. The moment the door closed, she gripped me to her, her hands buried in my hair, lips crushed to mine.

I pressed her to the door, taking handfuls of her everywhere. I couldn’t touch her enough, couldn’t taste her enough. I was deprived of sex in general, but worse I’d been deprived of her. The ache was so complete and familiar by now that it had its own pulse, and its own stark place in my soul. I bit her lower lip. She sucked on my tongue.

I shoved her skirt out of the way, ripped her panties, and hoisted her up. She wrapped her legs around me. I didn’t undress myself, just braced her with one arm and pulled my dick out. I grabbed her ass with both hands and shoved hard and deep with one desperate, harrowing thrust.

When I was seated balls deep I paused, but only long enough to jerk her top off her shoulders, baring her tits. I moaned at the sight. I wanted to bury my face there while I fucked her, but it was impossible. I was too far gone, needed to fuck her too hard. I took her there, a hell-bent, stand-up fuck powered by unrequited longing and unprecedented abstinence.

I used to turn her away, to avoid the intimacy of eye contact when I took her. It was the opposite now. I made her look at me. Every time she tried to look away I forced her eyes back, bouncing her on my cock with ruthless precision while our gazes drank each other’s souls with desperate adulation. “I miss you,” I panted at her.

She flinched, dragging my mouth to hers.

So this was not forgiveness. I’d take it anyway. Drink every drop of attention she deigned to toss my way.