“No!” I gasped, turning my face from him and glancing nervously past his shoulder.
Even in the hidden-away corner, I worried about the busy passersby. I suppose they were distracting enough on their own. Wasn’t he the one who’d been worried about appearances just moments ago?
“Prove me wrong, be a team player.” He cocked his head, leaning down to my ear. “If you make too much of a fuss, someone will hear. Be quiet for me.”
I gulped, glancing at the distracted crowds and then back to him.
He took that as an opportunity to continue, gently unbuttoning a few loops of my collar to expose my neck.
“Arkady!” I hissed, balling my fist in his jacket.
He wrapped his lips around the skin, sucking hard on my neck.
My head jolted back and smacked against the brick. A whimper escaped, and I immediately slapped a hand over my mouth.
He trailed his lips to the front of my throat, nipping gently before continuing to the opposite side.
“Please, Arkady—”
This time, he bit me, and I felt ashamed when a muffled moan made it past the cloth of my glove.
It earned a chuckle from him as he stood straight again, hiding me away from any possible eyes. His hands smoothed over my neck before neatly buttoning the collar to the top again, hiding the fresh bruises.
“How well behaved you are,” he teased.
“What was that for?” I thought I might cry.
“I’m looking for your boundaries.” He grinned. “Would you have let me go further?”
“N-no!”
“I will have to find out another time.” He turned on his heel, beginning to walk away.
“Arkady!” I took long strides to catch up and grab his arm.
“It sounds better coming from you.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“My name.” He leaned over to my ear. “It sounds sweet, even when you are angry.”
“You better bite that tongue if you know what’s good for you.”
He wanted to say something but just flashed a dimpled smile innocently before looping our arms together, placing his hand over mine.
Bastard.
Chapter Eight
The Performer
“Will you continue to hide away, or will you invite the rest of us to meet your mysterious new husband?” Lorelei nudged me with her hip.
“I am not hiding, nor is my husband.” I knocked my shoulder against hers. “He doesn’t seem the social type.”
“Pfft!You are a terrible liar, Petre,” Lorelei scoffed, plucking a strawberry from a fruit stand and inspecting it. “Do you plan to leave us behind and become a hermit?”
“You? Never. The rest of the troupe? I could do without.”
