“Must be,” he responds as we pass the door that masks some of the shouting. Shattering glass, followed by a woman’s scream stops us in our tracks.
“Here.” He hands me the bags. “Go inside. I’ll be right there.”
I look from my door which is just steps away and back to him, not liking this at all. I know it’s his job, and he likely does far more dangerous stuff, but I don’t want to be witness to it.
“Now, Marina,” he snaps, and I jump into action, quickly walking over and unlocking my door. His whispered, “good girl,” makes me melt to my core.
Arsen
If two words are all it takes to get her to comply with me, I know what to do in the future. Her eyes light up in a way that I’m not sure how to explain when I say good girl. She enjoys it, revels in it. Maybe even savors it.
Once she’s in her apartment, I pound on the door I’m standing in front of, calling out, “Police, open up!” The shattered glass and feminine cries worry me.
“What the fuck you want?” is screamed just as the door opens, showcasing a young man, roughly twenty-five, shaggy hair, haggard appearance. And if I’m not mistaken, stoned.
Flashing my badge, I put my best cop face on. “Detective Daniels, Nashville PD. Everything alright in there?” Looking around him, I can see a vase on the floor, water and flowers puddled around it.
He sneers at my badge. “Everything’s fine.”
As he attempts to slam the door shut, I stick my boot between it and the jam. “I’d like to speak to whoever is here first. Make sure she’s okay.” Holding his gaze, I see the moment he falters and starts cursing under his breath.
“Andrea! Get out here! Show this nosy-ass cop you’re fine.” He doesn’t move from the door.
I see a woman round the corner in nothing more than a skimpy robe and wet hair, a mean scowl on her face. “We’re fine. Lovers quarrel,” she snaps. Her gaze roams my body.
“You sure you feel safe here, ma’am?” I have to check, no matter how much I dislike her eyes on me.
Rolling her eyes, she snorts, “Yes. We’re fine. Wyatt couldn’t kill a mouse if he tried.” The door slams before another word can be spoken, and with the way she’s giving it to him now, I think they’ll be fine. There were no typical indicators of abuse visible on her body, and she wasn’t timid like a woman who’s being hurt would be.
“Do you do that a lot?” Marina’s soft voice says from her doorway.
“I told you to get inside.” The bite in my voice has her eyes widening as I come closer. My stare zeros in on Marina, blocking the dimly lit hallway out as her breathing picks up pace. “You don’t take chances like that, Marina,” I snarl.
Her brows furrow. “I didn’t.” Her claim doesn’t come out as fiercely as she’d have liked. I can see it in her eyes.
“You did. When you didn’t listen to me? You put yourself in harm’s way. I won’t have that.” Crowding her body through the door, I slam it shut behind me. Gripping her waist, I turn her so her back is to the door, and I push my large frame into hers. Savoring the feel of her curves against me. “I can’t have you ignoring my word,” I rumble the words into her ear.
“I didn’t…” Her protest is weak as her heart races. I can feel it pounding against my chest.
“Be a good girl, Marina. Listen to me.” Feeling her light up at my words rather than seeing it this time, is a whole new experience. Her body vibrates in my arms. Her breathing is shallow.
“Yes, Arsen.” She sighs.
“Good girl.” I’m officially obsessed with the way her breath hitches and the light purr I feel vibrate through her when those words leave my lips. If I were looking into her bright blue eyes, I’d see her devotion for me. “You’re an addic
tion, babe.” Biting lightly on her earlobe, I trail a line of kisses along her jaw until I get to her mouth.
Savoring the soft, plump pout she presents to me, I don’t go deeper. I want the connection. I want her to hunger for more, and after today, I realize she’s not quite ready yet. Not for everything I want from her.
Chapter Seven
Marina
It’s been four hours since Arsen and I got home from lunch and shopping, and I can still feel his burning stare on my body as I move around my apartment. Cleaning while I pack, because despite what he saw earlier, I’m not actually messy. I like cleanliness. I crave order in my life, which in turn means he gets a glimpse into my neurotic side.
He tried helping me with the books and magazines that are tossed around my small dining room table, and I had to shoo him away. In fact, I rolled up a magazine and whacked his hand with it. I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me.
From the look he’d given me, he knew what I was thinking. Instead of teasing me, he sat on the couch, turned on the boob tube, and watched some baseball game. I think. I’m not much of a sports person and probably couldn’t tell one from the other.