What We Do in the Night (Day to Night #1) - Stylo Fantome Page 0,73

could see that you needed exactly what only I could do for you, and here I was, needing exactly what only you could give me. I wasn't going to let you go.”

“So what you're really saying is, if there had been some other girl with a sob story about a hard life, it could've been her. Which means it could've been just anybody.”

“Stop it,” he growled. “It couldn't have been just 'anybody' – I wouldn't have felt that way about anyone else. It had to be you, because you're it. You're what I've been searching for.”

Ari didn't know where those words had come from – he certainly hadn't been thinking them. At least not consciously. They were far to revealing, and not only to her. They were a revelation to him, as well. And when a smile like a sunrise spread across Valentine's lips, he felt his heart stop to drop.

No, no, no. I wasn't searching for this. I don't want this. I want an arrangement. A deal. Get your head on straight, Sharapov.

He frowned for a moment, then turned her back into the spray. Started massaging his hands over her scalp, working out the rest of the conditioner for her.

He excused himself from the shower soon after, leaving her alone to finish up. When she finally emerged back into the living area, he was sitting at his dining room table, his laptop open and in front of him. She tried to be cute and banter with him – she was very good at both.

Because it's her job to be good at them.

But Ari made excuses about needed to catch up on some work stuff, then ordered her into bed. And god bless Valentine, she was always pretty docile after sex. She kissed him on the cheek, then disappeared behind the mock wall. A few moments later, he heard his television come on.

He managed to kill an hour answering emails, then he strode across the apartment and looked at his bed. He'd really put her through her paces earlier, and she was out like a light, just as he'd predicted. He sighed and turned off the TV, then walked around and killed all the lights before climbing into bed.

He'd forgotten to pull down the blinds on the windows, though, and lights from outside filtered into the room. He rolled onto his side and looked at her in the moon light. She wasn't shy – the other night she'd slept in the nude, and was doing the same this night. The sheets had fallen to her waist and both her arms were raised, her hands near her head. He let his eyes wander over her skin, memorizing every inch of it. Marveling at how much of it she'd given to him.

Ari wasn't like Valentine, he'd had anal sex with other women, and he'd had rough sex with other women. But not in a long time, and never like what they'd just done, never with such abandon. From the moment he'd asked for control, she'd completely given it to him. Hell, he could wake her up right now, and as sore and as tired as she probably was, he knew she'd part her legs for him, or roll over for him, or bend over backwards for him. Whatever he wanted.

No one had ever done that for him before, given all of themselves in the way he wanted most.

He hadn't expected to feel so conflicted about it. It was just sex, she was a person he paid for a service, it shouldn't matter. Good sex, or great sex, or even fan-fucking-tastic sex was still, ultimately, just sex.

But this time, for some reason, it was more. So much more.

We need each other ...

“Saint Valentine,” he sighed, tracing his fingers down the center of her chest. She squirmed in her sleep, but didn't wake up.

He found himself wondering about her; something he hadn't really done before, not in depth. But now that he was, Ari wanted to know all about her. She was young, but so confident – in spirit and in body. Almost completely uninhibited, and he wondered what kind of lovers she'd already had, who her past boyfriends had been; wanted to learn all the tricks they'd taught her.

Wanted to make sure he was better than all of them.

“I'm busy,” she suddenly mumbled, and he lifted his eyes to her face, but her eyelids were still closed. She was talking in her sleep.

She had a rough life, DelVecchio had said. She thought what