was imagining you, you idiot.” I shake his shirt. “Because I was picturing you in my head.”
A mystery of an emotion passes over his face, quick and short-lived and I get closer to him.
The tip of my soccer cleats crashes with the tip of his polished boots and I blurt out the very first thing that comes into my head, “I will never do that to you. I will never ever do something like that to you, okay? I’m not…”
Her.
I’m not Sarah.
I don’t say it but he hears it.
Because the mysterious emotion that passed over his face washes over his body too. His tight, hard body that sort of jerks slightly before he takes a step.
Toward me.
Or more like, pushes me back with those tips of his boots while he advances forward.
“Picturing me,” he says, his voice gravelly, referring to my earlier statement about imagining him while dancing and ignoring what I said to him just now.
Ignoring my sort-of declaration about loyalty.
“Yeah.” I nod, still clutching onto his shirt, almost tearing off the buttons with my forceful hold. “I was imagining it was you. That you were the one spinning me in circles and dancing with me.”
“You were.”
“Yes. And then you came in and I couldn’t believe it.”
“Why?”
“Because my wish came true.”
“What wish?”
“You,” I whisper with all the love in my eyes, while his are turbulent.
“I’m not anybody’s wish.”
You’re mine. You’re my wish.
You’re my Arrow.
“I waited for you this whole week.” I swallow, telling him the truth, letting it shine in my voice, on my face. “And I was… I missed you so much.”
“You missed me,” he repeats in a strange tone, as he keeps advancing on me, as he keeps pushing me back.
I whisper, “Yes. A-and I was worried.”
“Worried about what?”
I was worried that you’d get back together with her.
That you’d become the old Arrow and that I’d lose you.
“I was worried that you…” The new Arrow. “Wouldn’t come back.”
“I told you I would,” he growls. “I said I’d come back in a week.”
I swallow and give him a tremulous smile that only manages to agitate him further, I think, if his big step toward me is any indication like he’s restless to push me somewhere.
To a place I don’t know about.
“But you came back early,” I whisper.
“I did, didn’t I?”
These words are clenched, forced out of him, and I open my fists and stroke his stomach. I let my hands roam and circle over the cotton of his dress shirt as I soothe him.
“Why?” I lick my lips and his eyes drop to my gesture.
It stays there, his gaze, over my lips for a few seconds before he flicks his eyes up.
They’re burning. Blazing.
“Because of you,” he rasps almost accusingly, and a breath jars out of me.
I blink.
And I stop moving.
Because at that very moment, we’ve reached our destination. Or rather his destination, the wall against which he can pin me.
He can cage me between his hard body and the bricks.
“You came back early for me?” I repeat, disbelieving, shocked, flabbergasted… happy.
He puts both his hands on either side of my head and I can’t help it. I arch my back. I push my ass into the heated bricks and thrust my chest out.
“I came back early because you’ve got something I need.”
“What?”
As soon as I ask the question, I understand what he means.
I understand what he needs from me.
The awareness hits me in the stomach, somewhere behind my navel before it tugs and pulls, making the thing he needs clench.
My pussy.
And God, my pussy needs him too.
Yes, it’s not the most heartfelt declaration but it’s something, isn’t it? It’s something – he was thinking about me while he was there, while he was maybe even with… her – and I bite my lip with both love and lust for him.
“You know what I mean, don’t you?”
I nod. “Yes.”
His eyes bore into mine then. “Tell me what I came back for.”
I shiver at his command.
At his usual familiar command, and it makes my channel ripple. It somehow also squeezes my heart, expanding my love for him as I whisper, “My Arrow came back for my pussy.”
His eyes flash when I obey him and maybe I’m pathetic but it makes my toes curl with pleasure.
“Yeah, that’s right. I came back for your bad girl pussy,” he rumbles, looming over my lips. “That’s why I changed my flights, dealt with the most incompetent crew in the history of all airlines all day and flew out twenty four hours early. Because