It draws the eye, but not as much as the view beyond it.
Further in, just off to the right, is my bed. It’s unmade, slightly rumpled—white sheets with a lone black throw pillow in the center.
A part of me wonders what he’s thinking as he takes it all in—if he notices the lack of personal touches or if he’s imagining things I haven’t let anyone imagine before.
After finishing his perusal, he turns to face me.
I don’t have any personal photographs on display, and I try to keep this place as clean and uncluttered as possible. When you grow up in an environment where your mother hoards everything, you tend not to want to do the same. To this day, I haven’t gone through her things at her house. I pay someone once a month to give it a clean, and that’s as far as I’ve attempted to go.
“You said a call, not a visit.”
His gaze traces over me as I stand here in my silk pajamas. They have little love hearts on them, and I see his lips twitch at the sight. “I called. I just thought you may want that information.”
I shake my head. I’ve paid for my mother to see multiple doctors, and they all said the same thing—that there’s nothing else that can be done for her. So while hope is always there, I don’t see much I can do about this.
“Thank you. Though I do believe you just used that as an excuse to come into my home.”
“Yes, I did,” he says without shame. He looks around again. “You find out a lot about a person by where they live.”
“Yeah? So, what does my apartment say about me?” I ask, my tone snarky. However, I’m curious about his answer.
“That you prefer your alone time.”
“That is true.” I don’t invite anyone back here. Delaney is the only other person I allow into my space, and she’s only been here a few times. We usually meet at her place, or we go out. This is the only place I can feel totally safe.
And yet, here he stands, in my safe space.
And I don’t feel threatened.
“So, you never invited Luke back here?” he asks.
“How did you…” I shake my head, not even wanting that answer. “No, I did not,” I tell him. “What about you, Arlo? Do you invite many women back to your place?”
“No.”
“Never?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest, while still gripping the papers in one hand.
He takes a step closer to me and leans in as he answers, “Never.”
I smile at that. “Interesting.”
He drags his nose along my ear and down my jawline, and I have to remember to stay still and breathe as his low and gravelly tone skates across my skin.
“The things I could do to you, Cora. The way I could make you scream,” he whispers in my ear, completely in my safe space now. With his closeness, I can feel his body heat radiating off him. It sets my body on fire.
“Yeah? Show me,” I say with a sense of fear and honesty.
Arlo steps back, a look of surprise flitting across his face before it’s gone just as fast. He then goes over to my sofa and sits. He spreads his arms on the back of the couch, then crooks a finger, indicating for me to join him as he looks at me with eyes that are dark and intimidating.
After setting the papers on the kitchen counter, I walk over to him. I can see how hard he is through his pants. He wants me, and that lights a small fire in my stomach.
“Sit on my lap, Cora. I won’t touch you in any other way.”
“Why?”
“Because I promised not to fuck you, and if I touch you, I’ll break that promise.”
“What if I want you to break that promise?” I counter.
