8

My words Arthur, for the first time, hurt him. His eyes widen, and his eyebrows raise in surprise. Simultaneously, he moves away, allowing me to breathe freely and think more clearly. I notice his tense and upright shoulders, his shirt clinging tightly to his arms. His hand goes to his temple, caressing the area, while his eyes remain on the ground.

He appears pensive, but I don't trust it. I carefully crouch down and retrieve my bag and phone, which vibrates again with another message from Axel. I read it on the screen.

"I'll go with you to the doctor. I'll be free by three."

I smile, one less worry.

"Who the hell is messaging you? You're talking to me, pay attention, damn it," he growls in frustration, snatching the phone from me and reading the message. "Doctor? Why is he going with you to the doctor and not me? What's wrong, Michelle?" he approaches with concern.

I snatch the phone from his hands, surprising him for the second time, and quickly put it away, nervous that he might have read the message.

"That's none of your business."

"If it has to do with you, then it is."

"Why? Why am I yours? Screw that," I scoff, crossing my arms.

"For that and more, Michelle," he drops the seriousness as I sense the certainty in his voice. He approaches again, taking my cheeks in his hands, and this time, I can't push him away. "Tell me what's wrong. Does it have to do with the fact that you threw up at my place? Is it serious?"

I lick my lips, and his eyes dart there, showing his struggle not to close the distance between us that prevents us from kissing. Because I want to kiss him, too.

Damn it, so do I.

"Arthur, I didn't come here to talk about myself. I came to tell you that those stupid journalists know where I live, and they won't stop pestering both me and Axel," I growl, remembering those people who sometimes sleep on the sidewalk.

"Axel?" my eyes widen; damn it, I said too much. "You live with a guy?" he roars, evidently angry.

His irises darken as I realize his teeth won't last long if he keeps clenching his jaw so tightly. I bring my hands to his wrists and forcefully push him away from my face, but he doesn't seem to want to let go.

"I have to go," I release him.

"Like hell," he pulls me towards him, my chest pressed against his. He furrows his eyebrows, running his hands down my hips, touching me as if it's something he's never touched before in his life. "Have you gained some weight?"

"Are you calling me fat?" I question, hitting his cheek to keep him away from me. "To hell with you, Arthur."

"Why the fuck are you slapping me so much, damn it?" he asks irritably while caressing his cheek, and I avoid smiling at his complaint. "I'll sort out the shit with the journalists, but first, I want you to know that I had nothing to do with it. I promise you, sweetheart," he looks at me, hoping that his words will be believed.

I scratch my cheek, furrowing my eyebrows.

"Weren't you the one?

"I wouldn't use something you confessed to me in confidence against you," he assures, approaching again. I grimace at the sincerity in his gaze. Michelle, I would never intentionally hurt you.

I lower my gaze, smiling sadly.

"That's the worst part, Arthur, that when you do it, you don't realize you're doing it," I let out a sigh. "Well, thanks for trying to fix something that, according to you, you didn't do." I put my purse on my shoulder. Goodbye.

"Wait," I stop in my tracks but don't turn around. Why don't you trust me?

My chest begins to rise and fall from the pained tone in his voice. I swallow hard.

"That doesn't matter," I shrug.

I start walking away again.

"Then tell me the reason you're going to the doctor," I roll my eyes, feeling his proximity behind me. "Tell me, Michelle, because if you don't, I'll find out myself."

"Are you threatening me?" I turn around.

Finding myself too close to him, his eyes move to my mouth.

"I'm warning you, darling."

"Stop calling me that, I'm not your wife," I say through gritted teeth.

I clench my fists, somewhat angry that he continues with his affectionate nicknames even though we're separated. He smiles, raises his hand, and gently brushes it against my cheek. I part my lips, attentive to his movement.

"Tu es toujours ma femme, mon amour," I roll my eyes. "Don't make that gesture."

"Then stop speaking to me in French when you know I don't understand a damn thing," I snap, gritting my teeth. I pull my face away from his touch with heaviness. "I'm leaving now, keep working, Mr. Müller."

"Aren't you going to say goodbye first?" I smile upon hearing his playful and amused tone.

"I think the slaps have been enough, but if you want another one, I have no problem with it," I shrug, approach him, and raise my hand.

I gasp in surprise when he stops me and pulls me closer to his body. He doesn't let me move as he places his mouth on mine and tastes it at his whim. He bites my lower lip with desire and releases my hand to lower his to my hips, squeezing them against him, growling when I bite his lower lip.

It's a desperate kiss with a slight touch of fear. I could feel it, somehow, as if he believed I would be lost to him at some point.

His tongue fully enters my mouth, engaging in a battle with mine for control. In the end, he wins, and after a few seconds, we need air. I pull away with my hands on his shoulders, feeling him knead my right buttock while he moves back to my lips.

"I miss your mouth so much," he murmurs, leaving a kiss on my cheek.

I tried to avoid it but ended up smiling. Among his small kisses on my face, I ended up smiling.

"I miss you... all of you," I express in his ear, kissing his neck and enjoying his closeness and fragrance. "Damn, I have to go."

I step back, and he still holds onto my hips. I adjust my bag on my shoulder, waiting for him to speak. He has resumed his seriousness.

"Is Axel the same person who brought you to my house? Are you dating him?" I roll my eyes, tired of his insistence on Axel. He takes my cheeks in his hand and gives me a short kiss on the lips. "Don't make that gesture, every time you do, I'll give you a kiss, understood?

"Stop talking to me as if I were your employee, asshole," I grumble.

He laughs, shaking his head, his hair falling out of place with the movement.

"You don't control that mouth."

"And you don't control your tongue," he raises an eyebrow.

"I don't think that bothers you much," he proceeds to kiss my neck and nibble it with a flirtatious tone in his voice, causing me to laugh a little. "Now tell me who he is, please."

I enjoy it when he begs; it's a version of Arthur Müller that nobody else has, so I adopt a cold attitude when I decide to tell him the following.

"You're not interested. I'm not yours, Arthur. And I have to move on with my life."

"After six months," he clenches his jaw, and I shrug.

I leave a kiss on his cheek before answering him.

"Love came first."

I escape from his grasp after surprising him for the third time. I reply to Axel's message on my way to the elevator, confirming that I read it. I feel my stomach growl; hmm, I'll have something to eat before that date.

Chicken and rice sound tempting.