4
"Here you go," I immediately lower my gaze.
"Thank you," I whisper.
I take out the small brush and toothpaste from my bag, which I always carry with me. I rinse my teeth under his watchful gaze, sighing as I turn off the tap and put everything away. As I'm about to leave the bathroom, he stops me with his arm around my waist.
"Please be honest. Are you sick? You love shrimp," I look at him.
"I'm fine."
I ignore his comment about the shrimp.
He exhales, his grip tightens, and one of his hands goes to my lower back, pulling me closer to him. I gasp in surprise as I find myself just inches away from his face again, and the scent of his cologne makes any discomfort from nausea disappear.
Having him close relieved everything, yet it also destroyed me.
"For a moment, I thought..." he trails off.
I avert my gaze from his lips; he's struggling with something I don't know.
"What did you think?"
"If something were to happen between us, would you tell me?"
I purse my lips at his sudden question. I try to move away, but he doesn't allow it. I exhale, no longer fighting in this scenario, simply because having him close calmed me down.
Just this once, I'll let my guard down.
"Would I have to? I'm not important to you. I'm sure if something were to happen to me, you'd be glad."
"Don't say that," he orders.
I squirm slightly, furious about how I feel right now. I want him close, but I know that if I have him close, I'll end up broken by his indifference.
And being destroyed by him is not in my plans.
"That's the truth, Arthur," I growl to his face, he denies it by holding me tighter, but I maintain my stance. "Do you know why I came? Because I was afraid that if I didn't come, you would do something to harm me if you haven't already."
"I wouldn't do anything to harm you, Michelle," he grumbles, annoyed by my words. He brings his face closer to mine, and I look down at his lips. "I can't destroy you."
"And is that what bothers you? Not being able to do to me what you do to your opponents?" I try to push him away.
He ends up snorting at my audacity, takes hold of my arms, and crosses them slightly behind my back. It's not uncomfortable, but it angers me that he manipulates my body as he pleases. My chest rises and falls slowly; his eyes go to my cleavage, and his gaze darkens.
I lick my lips, paying attention to those chestnut strands, leaning towards mahogany like my hair. He looks back into my eyes, having to bend down considerably to meet my gaze.
His height was the first thing that impressed me.
"It pisses me off, it makes me angry, but at the same time, I like it because you're the only one who can drive me crazy like this," he whispers, and I roll my eyes. "Don't make that face."
"I'll do as I please," I say furiously, with my eyebrows furrowed in anger. "Let go of me already."
I move again, my body trembling in his arms, and a snort escapes his mouth as he lets me go. He runs his hands through his hair, pulling it slowly back in exasperation. Seeing him completely out of his seriousness amuses me; nothing ever seems to disturb him.
"You know what? I'll do as I please too," he says with fury in his eyes.
I purse my lips, about to ask him what he means, but he has already taken hold of my cheeks and pulled me towards him, kissing me eagerly. Astonished and with my eyes wide open, I think about what to do.
Seconds later, my lips move on their own as they meet his. I let out a moan, which is silenced by his mouth, and I feel his hands leave my face and move down to my legs. He grabs them, lifts me, and forces me to wrap them around his hips. I tilt my head to the right, deepening the kiss somehow while I stroke his hair.
I feel him sitting me on the bathroom counter, straightening my back as I entertain myself with his hair and his bites on my lower lip. My legs open on their own and position themselves on either side of his hips, with Arthur in between them.
The kiss intensifies within moments, his hands waste no time and sneak under my legs, reaching my recently moist cotton panties. He caresses them, on my sensitive spot, and I part my lips, exhaling air.
"Arthur," I gasp, moving his face away from my breasts. "I have to..."
"Don't say it," he presses his lips against mine. "Stay. Stay the whole night. Stay with me, Michelle."
His request speeds up my heart. The plea from his warm and moist lips, accompanied by the longing and desire in his eyes, makes me lose my sanity. That sanity is the only thing that can make me act with dignity towards him.
"I can't," I whisper between the kiss.
He caresses my clitoris, causing my back to arch. Despite the overwhelming desire I feel, despite the damn urge to have him between my legs, to stay with him, to spend the whole night, I managed to speak firmly and act.
"I can't, Arthur, I'm sorry."
I push him away from me with little force, carefully getting off the counter. I adjust my dress on my legs and cover my bare breasts from his gaze. I grab my bag, trembling, and walk out. This time he lets me leave, but only the bathroom.
As I enter the room, he grabs my wrist, stopping me.
I look at him, at his shining eyes reflecting desire. At his reddish, slightly swollen lips, which makes me sigh. His suit seems to fit a bit tighter and reveals the muscles I know so well under the light, along with his erection. It's as if he wanted to torture me for not finishing what we were about to start.
In the intensity of my gaze, which conveys an evident "make me yours," I replace it with a "let me go," which he interprets perfectly.
"Fine, I won't touch you," he declares, adjusting his suit as he sighs. "But you have to stay for dinner. We have matters to discuss."
I hated how he went from scorching me with his lips and caresses to freezing me with his gaze and words.
"Fine," he seemed relieved by my response, and I bite my lower lip. "After dinner and our talk, you give me my phone and I'm leaving."
He nods, passing by me, killing me with his scent. I feel my hands fail and my breathing accelerates. I discreetly run my hand over my stomach, exhaling calmly as I hear the door close behind me.
"I'm pregnant," I murmur in Spanish, making a distressed face at hiding something as significant as a child from him. You'll be a father, Arthur.
I sob, his words lingering in my mind and heart. If only I trusted him, if only I believed those words that he would never hurt me, maybe I would have the strength to tell him that I'm expecting his child.
"After the divorce, both parties must wait six months or more before being seen with someone in the public eye, thus avoiding speculations and gossip that the divorce was initiated due to a third party involvement. They also refrain from accepting interviews to avoid uncomfortable questions about the end of their relationship. Neither party is allowed to speak ill of the other after their breakup, neither behind their back nor in public," I stop reading the paper in my hands. "Was it necessary to have this dinner for that?" I shake the paper. "I know I have to comply with what's written there, it was in the contract, remember?"
"Of course, I remember. It's you who suffers from a bad memory, not me, ma chère," he smiles.
I reluctantly put down the papers and pick up the glass filled with fruit juice. I finish it in seconds, savoring the taste. I signal the girl who has been attentive to our needs throughout the evening.
"Can you bring me another one?" I nod. "Thanks, darling."
"That's your fourth one," she warns, never taking her eyes off me.
I huff, adjusting my dress under the table. We'd finished dinner, a dinner they had to change because I couldn't stand the smell of shrimp. After dinner, I had a craving for fruit juice, and they were so good that I'd had more than two already.
Damn it.
I bring my hand to my chest as my cheeks puff up and release a gas that I couldn't contain in time. I look at it in surprise. He blinks, just as astonished as I am.
"Sorry," I murmur, embarrassed by my action.
He awkwardly analyzes the situation, still silently observing me, until suddenly a small smile forms on his lips. I bite my lips, lowering my gaze to the plate.
"Beautiful as always," he whispers.
"Idiot," I whisper, huffing.
One of the few smiles he allows to show, a soft and tender one, widens on his mouth. I tap my thighs with my fingers due to his intense and playful gaze.
I raise an eyebrow, he bursts into laughter. My nerves increase as I see him laugh, it was rare for him to do so. In the year we were together, I only remember two occasions when he laughed the same way he's laughing now, both occasions because of me.
I tilt my head, observing him trying to stop laughing, his eyes squinting to the point of closing, his dimples adding a cute touch to his sharply masculine features. His perfectly straight teeth come into view, and his hair falls on his forehead disheveled for the first time.
I bite my lip. God, why is he so handsome?
I clear my throat, and the girl approaches with the juice and hands it to me. I think I'm no longer in the mood for it, changing the subject.
"Thanks," I murmur, licking my lips as I lift my gaze to him. You never told me how you speak French so fluently.
"You never asked," he leans forward on the table in a teasing manner.