Until Arsen (Daniels Family 1)

Lunch was…quiet. Strained.

I don’t know where the hell we went wrong, but I can’t get her back. She’s not smiling as freely as before. She’s barely speaking. We’ve made eye contact twice—to which she immediately broke it.

If not for every charged touch when I grasp her hand, I’d think our chemistry was all in my head. But my cock won’t go down, my blood boils for her to pay me just a tad bit of attention, and I can’t picture her not being next to me.

And the thought of her leaving in a week? Don’t even get me fucking started. I’m not impressed. In fact, the idea of tying her to my bed has crossed my mind more than once. I’ve been carrying her bags for an hour now without complaint—and I never will—but I want her fucking attention. I want her vivid blue eyes staring into mine. I want to be able to tell what she’s thinking without guessing. I want to know if she’s as torn apart about this strain as I am.

I want to stop sounding like a whining basket case, but that’s not going to happen either.

The last straw is when we walk past a lingerie store, and a man inside, with his woman, stares at Marina. At what’s mine. I can easily tell what he’s thinking. He wants her. He wants to put his dirty, filthy fucking hands on her.

I want to commit murder.

Dropping the bags I’m holding, I use the other hand that’s holding hers to pull her into my chest. I’m done. So fucking done with this shit. Leaning down, I capture her lips in mine, leaving no room to mistake what I’m doing. Laying claim.

Her gasp provides the perfect opportunity to slip my tongue past her lips, swallowing her moans. She tastes of the lemon from her water and the sticky bun she had after lunch. Sweet, spicy, and all mine.

Gliding one hand up her back, she presses her chest into me. I can feel her pebbled nipples poking through her thin t-shirt, rubbing against my chest. A rumble of desire moves through me, and all I want is to go home and see how else I can make her let loose.

“Arsen,” she breathes as I pull back to meet her gaze.

“Marina,” I mimic. “Don’t”—I press my forehead to hers—“ever shut me out again.” I won’t hold it in any longer. I can’t. She has to know that shit’s going to change, and I’m her man.

“I didn’t mean to.” Her whispered breath grazes my neck, making my dick stir as surely as if she were to blow on it.

“Promise me,” I demand. I need the words.

“I promise, Arsen.” I love the sound of my names on her lips.

“Good girl.” Her eyes fly to mine like she’s been zapped with electricity, and it’s then I see emotion enter her eyes for the first time in hours.

The harsh need for acceptance is shining brightly at me.

“Good girl,” I say again. Tears shine on her lids, making me wonder even more about her damage. I’d like to know who or what broke my girl.

Marina

I’m an asshole. A total and complete jerk that doesn’t deserve a man like Arsen Daniels. He’s been working all day to make me smile. Telling me silly jokes. Funny stories from his childhood. Going so far as to carry my damn bags.

I’ve never felt so damaged as I do today, and I’m dragging this amazing man down with me. When he tried to engage in conversation on the way to the mall and spoke of kids, asking me if I wanted a whole brood of my own, I’d nearly balled like a baby.

Of course, I want a ton of my own. He probably does, too. But I can’t, and I feel like a complete failure as a woman because of it.

Then he had to say it.

The words to break me open.

My walls crumbled.

Good girl.

I don’t know why those words are so damn important to me, but they are, and they mean everything. It’s more than me doing as he asks. It’s more than praise.

It’s Arsen.

The way he says them. The meaning behind the words and the emotions in his eyes as he says them.

Good girl.