What We Do in the Night (Day to Night #1) - Stylo Fantome Page 0,88

continued, smoothing his hands up her thighs. “I like hearing you say my name. I like hearing you laugh. Jesus, I didn't want to like you, Valentine.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I didn't,” he shook his head, then planted a kiss just below her belly button. “You're not supposed to be likable. You should stop.”

“I'll try.”

His hands had reached the apex of her legs and he smoothed a thumb down the center of her core. She shivered and moaned, and he pulled back a little so he could see her. Watch as a light blush spread across her chest and blossomed on her face. She was all rosy, and the color seemed infectious. He could feel it spreading to him, warming his entire body and setting him on fire.

Then it was all around him, emanating from the bed and the furniture and the walls. So much warmth. His home had never been warm – where was it coming from?

“You,” he finally said, and she opened her eyes to look up at him. She was panting lightly, one of her hands against her throat.

“What do you want to do?” she breathed. “The cuffs? The blindfold? Please, Ari, do whatever you want.”

Music to his ears. Literally. He could almost swear she was singing to him.

Sweet christ, what is in this drug, and why haven't I taken it sooner!?

“I want ...” he sighed, moving so he was laying between her legs. “I want this feeling to last for a long time, Valentine. Will you stay for a long time?”

She didn't answer, and he couldn't tell if it was because she couldn't think of a response, or if it was because he was pushing inside of her. Her mouth fell open and her eyes rolled back for a second, and then they were staring up at him again, just as he began to thrust against her.

“I'll stay,” she finally agreed, nodding her head.

“I didn't want to like you,” he babbled as his hips picked up speed. She nodded again and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Her legs around his hips.

“I know. I didn't want to like you, either,” she said. He leaned down so their foreheads were pressed together.

“I might not like you tomorrow,” he warned her, and she started laughing again, but it turned into a moan.

“I know, Ari. Shh now.”

“I might not like you tomorrow,” he repeated. “But I hope I do, Valentine.”

Her eyes were shut tight and her lips were pulled between her teeth. They hadn't known each other longer, and yet he still knew her so well. She was biting down on her lips to distract herself. From the pleasure, from the words, from the night.

But it wasn't enough. Even Ari knew that, and he was completely stoned. So when she opened her eyes and he saw the tears there, he knew what she was going to say.

“I hope you do, too.”

17

The next couple of days passed by in a blur of pleasure and darkness, and quite frankly, Val didn't miss the light.

Because the more time I spend being Saint Valentine, the more I actually become her, and she only exists in the night.

Having that second nurse made a world of difference. When she'd first hired Nurse Crockett, she'd warned the woman that it would only be part-time, just six o'clock to nine o'clock. The woman had been happy for the work and had agreed to it, and Valentine had assumed that was that.

But the day after the dinner date and the ecstasy, she found out that wasn't that. Nurse Crockett showed up and thanked her for extending her hours, which of course had confused Valentine. What extension? She'd never said anything about extending the hours, and had a brief panic attack. She explained that Mr. Sharapov paid the bills, and that he might become upset if he saw that those bills were much higher than expected.

“But dear, Mr. Sharapov is the one who called me and explained that I'd be needed until midnight every week night. He said you agreed.”

She couldn't believe it.

Her grandmother would have care from six in the morning until midnight, every week night.

And Valentine would finally have her break.

Most nights, she went to work as usual, helping out how ever she could – covering the door a lot as Angel's escorting job finally took off. Ralph had called and asked about her, and just as Val had predicted, the two of them had gotten along great.

Then like Cinderella, whenever midnight hit, Val left the ball. Ari would either