What We Do in the Night (Day to Night #1) - Stylo Fantome Page 0,103

through the table. Then he was coming, too, his body going stiff as she felt him throbbing inside of her.

Coming down from so high was rough. She struggled to breathe with all his weight crushing her to the hard wood. But she didn't try to adjust or move; she just kept her arms and legs wrapped around him.

“You do,” she suddenly found herself speaking. “You make my life better, Ari. And not because of the money, and not because of the help. Just because you're you.”

He was quiet for a long moment, breathing fast while she shifted her hands back into his hair. That wonderful hair of his, she would never get enough of it, so thick and wavy.

“I don't want to do this anymore.”

Valentine held still.

“Excuse me?”

“I don't want to pay for your time,” he spoke quickly, his breath hot against her chest. “I couldn't ... when Evans was talking to me, I knew it. I was so fucking angry, just at the thought of him talking to you in that place, and it hit me ... I couldn't stop it.”

“I won't talk to him.”

“Why shouldn't you? You don't owe me anything, I'm ultimately nothing to you but some guy who pays you. And Evans knows that, and he was rubbing it in my face, and I just kept thinking I couldn't handle that. Couldn't handle thinking there could be time when you'd be with someone else. I fucking hate that thought. I want you to be with me, always. I want every goddamn guy who looks at you to know he's got to get through me, first, if he wants a shot,” Ari stated. “And not because I paid for you, but because I own you.”

Valentine realized she'd started crying again.

“Because you own my heart,” she whispered, and felt him nod against her.

“Yes.”

“I didn't mean for this to happen,” she said, and he nodded again.

“Neither did I.”

“I'm so sorry.”

“Don't be. Never be. 'Sorry' doesn't exist in my vocabulary,” he said, running his hands over her bare thighs. “I'll never be sorry for you, Valentine.”

She took a deep breath.

“Even when your father's mad at you?” she asked, her voice trembling a little. “Even when your life turns out differently from all your plans?”

He was silent for a long time, his fingers tracing up and down her skin. She started to shake beneath his touch.

“Even then,” he finally said. “Even always.”

She was grabbing his face then, pulling him up to her. She kissed him, again and again, crying and whispering.

“I'm sorry,” she couldn't stop saying it. “I'm sorry, Ari.”

“I know, shhh,” he hushed her, wiping at her tears. “We'll figure this out.”

“I didn't want things to change,” she kept babbling. “I didn't mean to feel this away about you.”

“And I didn't want to feel this way about you,” he chuckled. “Yet here we are. An asshole and a whore.”

His voice was teasing and she laughed at that word she hated so much.

“A match made in heaven,” she said, and he nodded.

“It was meant to be,” he whispered, kissing her on the cheek. “We just went about it all wrong. Now we'll do it right.”

“We'll try,” she sighed. “And who knows? Maybe your dad will like me. Most men do.”

“I wouldn't hold my breath,” Ari snorted. “And I don't 'try', Valentine. I succeed. Now kiss me and tell me you won't walk out that door again.”

She kissed him. She kissed him hard and she kissed him long, moaning against his lips. Then she let her head fall back and she stared up into his dreamy eyes. She felt like she was seeing him for the first time ever – without the barrier of money between them, they were like new people. A sinner and a saint, both at the same time.

“I'm not going anywhere.”

20

Ari stayed up late that night, staring at his ceiling for a long time. Then he shifted onto his side and stared down at the bed next to him.

Stared at Valentine.

She was laying flat on her back, one of her arms raised above her head. She slept with her mouth slightly open, as if she were about to start talking or singing. She was also naked once again, her preferred way to sleep.

He loved how uninhibited she was, and found himself once again curious about her past. They'd talked a lot in their weeks together, but there were still some dark patches in her history. He wondered how many men she'd slept with in her life, or if