My muscles tensed, nails digging into his scalp, toes curling, and Nathan grinned in the midst of his ministrations. I wasn’t in control of this afternoon blip. I was his the moment I stepped outside.
My orgasm wracked my body. I spasmed, foot coming down hard on my bowl of risotto and tipping onto us. I went down and took him with me. We collapsed in a mess on the floor.
“Damn,” he breathed. “If I say I got nothing from that, will you make me do it again?”
I was coming down, so I couldn’t smack or kiss him. I was still deciding which.
A better thing to ponder is how we went from fighting to covered in our cum and dinner.
“We’re not doing anything like this again.” I pushed myself up on shaky legs and rescued the remains of my clothes. “Kindly exit the same way you came.”
“That’s it?” Nathan watched me scramble around, looking more and more amused. “I could finish the job properly. Spread those tasty lips and ram you until you come so hard, you black out.”
My lower belly clenched so fiercely, I tripped.
“Mouth, pussy, or both. Your choice.”
“No, thank you.” My voice was as prim as the dame’s. Marching inside, I grabbed the door handles. “This never happened.”
“At least let me use the door,” he said.
“No.”
I slammed the doors on his laugh, and then fled to the bathroom to escape it. I lay on the cast-iron surface, surrendering to the boiling rain shower. Just to torture myself, I tallied my score for the day.
Carter: 1. Belle: 0.
Nathan: 1. Belle: 0. (Unless one screaming hot orgasm counted.)
Preston: 1. Belle: ½ point.
My senses returned after Delilah busted in on us, but the fact remained when those twenty minutes were up, I was going to tear Preston apart.
A week ago, I was secure in my ability to resist guys like them, and in one day, they proved me wrong, wrong, and wrong.
I lazed about in the shower for a little longer. My growling stomach eventually roused me. Most of my dinner ended up everywhere but in my mouth. Time to scrounge the kitchen for leftovers.
Padding into the room, I pulled on a simple T-shirt and sweatpants. My hair I twisted into a bun. I reached for my room key and phone. It went off as I pulled on my shoes.
Mom.
I answered, sticking the phone in the crook of my neck. “Hey, Cecilia. I was just about to call you. We need to discuss what you may have heard from Mrs. Desai. Although I’m hoping once she said the name Knight, you knew—”
“Arabella.”
I lurched back, throwing the phone away like it burned.
“Arabella?” A deep, masculine bass echoed through the speaker. A bass that was distinctly not my mother’s or father’s.
“Mom?” I croaked. “Mom!” I dove for the phone. “Why are you calling from her cell?! What did you do to her?!”
“Calm down. That woman is fine for now.” His sickly, syrupy voice poured out, spreading into my mind like miasma. Months since I had heard this voice, and every day of them spent praying I’d never hear it again.
Fear dropped me to my knees. “What did you do? If you’ve hurt her—”
“I haven’t touched her,” he broke in. “And if you don’t want that to change, you’ll tell me where you are. You haven’t been home for days.”
My stomach twisted, pushing bile up my throat. He found me. He was watching me. For how long?
“Where are you, Arabella?”
“I’m... staying at a friend’s house.”
“Which one?”
Which one.
Invisible eyes raked over me, crawling over my skin.
“Which one, Arabella?” He was louder. More insistent.
“P-put my mom on the phone.”
“Tell me!” he roared.
“I’m not telling you shit, Mal!” I burst out. “Not until I hear her voice!”
A thick, weighty silence bore down the other end.
“I will find you, Arabella,” he growled. “It doesn’t matter where you go. You can change your number a thousand times. You can hide behind as many walls. I will always find you.”
Click.
I dialed as I ran, calling for my father, and hearing his surprised hello as I stuck my head in the toilet and vomited.
Chapter Seven
“He spoofed my number, darling. Pretended he was calling from my phone. He’s done this to us before. I’m just so thankful you didn’t give him any information.”
I paced the length of the room, wearing in the tread I’d been working on all night. Sleep wasn’t happening after that phone call.
“Your new sim card is on the way,” Dad chimed in. “It’s scheduled