9. Nine

Nine

A s the first light of dawn peeks through the windows, I become acutely aware of the lack of warm skin against mine and the cold, empty bed beside me. I roll over onto my back as the events of the previous evening come flooding back to me. Theo. Jamie. Art. Our fight.

I glance at the bedside table. The engagement ring is gone. I took it off in anger in an attempt to make Art see I was serious. But what if we can't come back from this? An unsettling thought hits me. Maybe he's already come to that conclusion. And he's taken back the ring.

The wooden floor is hard and cold beneath my bare feet as I head towards the glimmer of light coming from the living area. The sunken spotlights are turned down low, illuminating the countertop in the centre of the kitchen, where Art is sitting, hunched over his laptop. Grey sweatpants and a white T-shirt encase his body. His dark hair's all over the place. He looks deep in thought and doesn't notice me .

I wrap my arms around myself and lean against the kitchen wall. The last time we spoke, we pretty much broke up. I almost don't want this conversation to start because I'm scared where it might end.

I clear my throat. He briefly glances up from the laptop before returning his eyes to the screen.

An awkward silence descends.

I hate this. This isn't us.

"What time is it?" I ask in a bid to break the tension.

"Half six." He straightens up on the stool and rubs a hand through his hair.

Even now, with everything that's happened, he still makes me want him.

I drag my gaze to the parquet beneath my feet. The fact that he's speaking to me is a good sign even if he's still not looking at me.

"You should go back to bed and get some more rest. A lot happened last night."

So, we're being civil.

"I don't think I'll be able to go back to sleep now."

Because I need to know where we stand.

"I couldn't sleep. Big Steve's text said the police have refused Jamie bail until his hearing, which by the sounds of things, they're not going to rush through. They want to take a statement from you about what happened last night."

If it helps the case against Jamie, I'm there. "Okay. I can go down there later."

Art was right. Jamie won't be bothering us again, but I can't help but feel as if we're avoiding the bigger issue here. I take a step forward into the kitchen and notice my engagement ring on the countertop beside his laptop.

Art follows my gaze, his jaw working. "Do you really want …" He pauses, as though he can't bring himself to say the words. He climbs to his feet and lifts his gaze to mine. Hurt-filled eyes look back at me. "Did you mean what you said? Do you really want to call off the wedding, break up"—he lowers his eyes to the floor— "leave me?"

"Art—" I begin, but he cuts me off .

"Because I'll change." He looks at me. "I can change. I've already changed for the better because of you. I'll do whatever it takes for us to work." He rakes a hand through his hair. "Last night, I was fucked off and angry with myself."

I frown. "Yourself?"

"I wasn't there to protect you from Theo. I was too busy working. And Jamie shouldn't haven't got anywhere near you. If I'd been there …"

"Stop blaming yourself. There's nothing you could have done about Theo or Jamie. You had no idea I was going to show up at the club or that Jamie would try what he did. Besides, I gave as good as I got. I kneed him in the bollocks. I've got a pretty sharp right knee. Remember?"

My attempt to lighten the mood falls flat.

Art shakes his head. "Last night … I said things I didn't mean."

"Me too," I agree. "I love you. I don't want to finish anything, but I meant what I said. I can't be with someone who uses their fists as a way of solving problems. Theo will use your past against you. He'll goad and goad until you snap and do something stupid. If you hit him, he'll go to the police without a doubt. You've got a record. I don't want you being sent down because of him."

He nods, and what he says next makes my heart skip with relief. "I overstepped the line."

He gets it.

"I just couldn't bear the thought of another man's hands on you, let alone …" His eyes drop to the floor, and he draws in a deep breath. "I wasn't thinking straight. And then you told me about Theo. Ever since we got together, I've worried something was going to come along and fuck things up for us, and now, he's shown up, and it's fucking up."

"Things will only fuck up if you let them. Right now, Theo's winning because he's driving a wedge between us."

His forehead creases in irritation, and he picks up the ring and comes towards me. "No more. This belongs to you." He takes my left hand and slides the ring back onto my finger. "I'll do whatever it takes to protect you." He cups my face in his hands and gazes into my eyes. "I'd die for you."

My chest tightens with emotion. Tears spring into my eyes. "I don't want you to do that."

"I would, Sophie. I'll protect you until the day I die. I'm not going to play into Theo's hands. I won't beat the shit out of him even though he fucking deserves it, but I'm not letting him win either. I've made plans."

I glance warily at his laptop. "What plans?"

He glides his hands down my arms and rests them on my waist. "I'm having him followed. I want to see what the fucker's up to. He knows too much about us, about me. Someone's been talking, and I'm going to find out who it is."

I've told Art limited information about Theo. I narrow my eyes suspiciously. "How can you have him followed? You don't know what he looks like. You don't even know what his last name is."

Art looks awkward. "I knew you wouldn't tell me even if I asked you, so I asked Lucy for his name, just in case."

"Just in case what?"

"He stepped things up, which he has."

Of course Lucy told him. She despises Theo nearly as much as Art does.

"I suppose you having him followed is better than you tracking him down yourself and kicking the shit out of him." I link my arms around his neck. "But it's on one condition."

"Anything."

"You tell me whatever you find out. No hiding things from me because you don't want to worry me. We're in this together."

"I promise. We'll get through this together." He presses a kiss to my forehead. "Are you okay … after your nightmare?"

I nod.

"I wish I could make them stop."

I cup his jaw in my hands and stroke my thumbs across his stubble. "You do. "

His eyes search my face. "No more sleeping in the spare room."

"I only went in there because we'd argued."

"There's to be no more arguing, especially about him." He kisses me languidly, his hands in my hair pulling me closer, deepening the kiss. He pulls away, slightly breathless. "No more fighting." His hands glide down my back and rest on my behind. "You belong in bed with me—always."

I shake my head. "I was wrong to take my ring off. I'm sorry. I was just mad, and I was trying to make you see sense."

"Shush. It's done." He kisses me and then skims his mouth to my right ear. "I want to forget," he whispers.

I close my eyes as he places hot and heavy kisses down my neck, all the way to my collarbone. My spine curls as I instinctively arch against him, my curves moulding to his, the way they always do. Desire courses through my veins, making me shiver with need, and I bunch my fingers through his thick hair. His lips burn my flesh.

"Help me forget, Sophie."

Fuck.

I open my eyes as he lifts me onto the cold countertop. He pushes open my thighs and impatiently rucks my nightdress up and off over my head. My fingers pull at the edge of his T-shirt, yanking it upwards, desperate to feel him beneath my hands, and he obliges, ripping it off. My eyes devour the sight of the chiselled golden flesh I'm longing to feel pressed against me, but it seems he's got other plans.

He cups my right breast and locks eyes with me, lowering his mouth to my nipple. He swirls his tongue around the bud, biting and sucking, and then repeats. My eyes close as I lean back on my hands and moan in delight as he does the same with my left breast. It's electric. His touch is fire, which I'd happily burn beneath. He scorches a line with his tongue all the way up from my breast to my left ear, making the muscles between my legs clench.

He nips my earlobe. "Sometimes, I want to bury myself inside you so deep that I forget who I am." He pushes my hair away from my face with his hand and kisses the soft skin at the base of my neck. "I'm only truly at peace when I'm lost in you. "

My breathing's all over the place, and so is his. He presses his lips to my ear and slides his hands up the inside of my thighs, his fingers grazing my clit.

My fingers grip the counter so hard that I'm sure they're going to break as he growls deeply in my ear, "You're so ready for me."

My body is humming with need for him. If he doesn't do something soon …

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and press my mouth against his ear. "Art, please."

"I need to taste you," he gasps, and the words alone are nearly enough to tip me over the edge.

He pulls me to the end of the counter, and he's kneeling in front of me. He grabs the backs of my thighs and pushes my legs up, so my feet are resting on his shoulders.

I lean back on my hands and watch as he goes to work, his tongue teasing me. I'm already there. A sweet, delicious contraction makes me close my eyes and throw my head back. I can't watch his head between my legs because it's all too much. I gasp as another throb racks through my body, but I claw myself back from the brink.

"Not yet."

I open my eyes to see Art on his feet, stepping out of his sweatpants. "I want to feel you come undone on my cock."

Fucking hell.

He positions himself between my legs, and I hook my arms around his neck and legs around his waist.

He sinks his cock inside me on a long, satisfied hiss. "This is going to be quick."

Thank God.

It takes all my willpower to drive down the fire raging at my core as he withdraws, making my muscles clench in protest.

In one smooth stroke, he pushes himself inside me to the hilt. I feel myself tighten around him, holding him in place as he throbs against me. I dig my fingernails into his shoulders.

"Finish it," I plead.

He bites my bottom lip and then releases it. "Your wish is my command. "

He grips my waist as he draws back and slices into me at a relentless pace. I cry out, sinking my nails further into his flesh, as my muscles, my body, my mind are thrown into spasm, and I fall apart. He slams into me over and over, prolonging my orgasm until he's spent.

I rest my head into the curve of his neck, and I feel wetness beneath my fingers. I lazily open one eye to see bright red blood on the tips of my fingers. I immediately feel bad.

"I'm sorry. You're bleeding. I scratched your back."

Art laughs softly. "You mean, you've branded me as yours."

Is that what I've done? Subconsciously branded him? I've never done it before.

"It's okay. I'm sure I'll live." He slides his hands underneath my thighs. "Hold on."

I keep my arms and legs wrapped around him as he carries me into the bedroom. He lays me down, and then he climbs in and pulls the sheets over both of us.

I'm sweaty, and I can feel the sticky, wet remains of him trickling down my inner thighs. "We should really get showered," I say, making no move to get out of bed.

Art sidles up behind me and drapes an arm around my waist. Game over. I've zero incentive to move now.

"Soon. I like this. Us lying here. Us smelling of each other."

Maybe I'm not the only one marking my territory, I think to myself. And the worst thing? I think I like it.