18
Mecca
The day was a long and trying one, as I had gone from putting my cousin in rehab to cleaning up one problem after another, a few involving punishments as severe as death.
A glance at my nails revealed splashes of a dead man’s blood on them, and specks of grave dust were sticking to my hair. A shower followed up with a long soak in boiling water should do the trick. It was funny how Arjen’s house seemed more like home in less than a month, than the condo I’d been living in for two years.
The weight of the day had worn me down to the point that my bones were exhausted. However, I was content that most of the days problems were solved, and I was a few steps closer to restoring the Black Saints.
A set of gray-blue eyes were set on me when I entered the room, and an exciting buzz of anticipation settled into me at the sight of Arjen. He sat on the foot of our bed in a white wife-beater and a pair of blue, loose-fitting pajamas. His feet were bare and his hair tousled and still damp.
He turned the volume down on the large television that hung on the wall behind me.
“Evening, wife.”
An instant smile formed at his greeting as he scanned my disheveled appearance.
“Evening, husband.”
Not sure what else to say, I moved to my dresser to gather my nightclothes. This relationship was unlike anything I had ever experienced, and I often found myself at a loss as to how to move forward in it. Handling the stress of running a drug empire was easier.
His easy, almost silent movements forewarned me that he had stood. My back stiffened when I sensed him moving closer. I wanted to pounce on the man, but at the same time, something else engulfed me and made me think twice about acting on my impulses. I didn’t understand this connection I had with him, and I hated what I couldn’t understand.
Small currents fluttered in my stomach every time I was around him now. Did it mean I had feelings for him? Was my attraction causing me to jump to conclusions?
Clueless, it couldn’t possibly be that other thing that I didn’t want to think, much less say. I’ve seen what that thing did to people: war, public fights, murder. There is no way it could be that. I was infatuated, I decided, nothing more than lust.
His warmth poured into me before his hand slid up my arm and caused me to turn and face him. We stood, staring at each other, neither of us speaking. I sensed he wanted to get something off his chest, but maybe he was cautious of my reaction. He had seen me drag a woman down a staircase and witnessed me throw heels at armed drug dealing killers.
“I was worried about you. I received an update that you had gone off the grid for a while. I’m glad you’re okay, but every time you do that, I can’t help but stress about your wellbeing.”
“I appreciate that you want to look out for me, and I want you to know that I don’t take it for granted. At the reception, we promised to tell each other the truth. The truth is, there are things I sometime need to be alone to do, but you have to trust that I will be careful and do everything in my power to stay safe.”
He nodded but didn’t comment. Based on the stress resting in the tight strain of his forehead, he truly was worried about me.
“I better shower,” I said, lifting my clothes before stepping away. As soon as I got the door closed behind me, I rested my head against it so that I stared at the ceiling. What was it with him and me? I shook off the confusion and headed for the shower.
I spent an exceedingly long time under the water, letting the pressure beat the tension from my stiff body before I soaked in the tub. Once I was clean, I applied a light sheen of body butter to moisturize my skin before blowing my freshly-washed hair dry enough to pull back into a ponytail. I tossed my robe over my silk nighties and headed for bed, thinking about all of the things I needed to do tomorrow.
Arjen was sitting up in bed, pretending to watch television, but I sensed his eyes on me. I disrobed, tossing it across the arm of the chair on my side of the bed.
When I turned to face the bed, he had scooted to my side and was holding the covers back so that I could climb in. He had angled himself so that I would have no choice but to climb in and get up close and personal with him. He stared at me so hard, that I could sense him undressing me before he had laid one finger on me.
Although hesitant, I climbed in. He was so delicious and inviting that I didn’t stop him when he drew me in and pressed me into his side. I rested my head against a solid pec that flexed as he adjusted us into a more comfortable position.
“Comfy?” he questioned. I felt small laying against his long solid body, but it was surprisingly comfortable.
“Yes,” I finally answered, settling in a bit more. The longer I laid against him, the better I started to feel. He kept his hand secure around my waist, probably expecting me to back away.
“I’ve never done this,” I confessed in a low tone.
“Me either, but I’m tired of all the space between us.”
At first, I thought keeping space between us was a good thing. It kept the confusion away. Now, I believe I held back on something that was inevitable.
“When we first met, we said we weren’t interested in a relationship, only a partnership. This feels like it belongs in a relationship.”
His low chuckle sounded as he tightened his hold on me.