Page 98 of A Forbidden Arrangement

He loosens his tie, pulls it free with an unhurried slide that makes my stomach dip. “I could never look away.”

It’s a promise that hums under my skin and pins me in place, unable to move as he walks past. The faint brush of air in his wake is enough to raise goose bumps on my arms. The distance between us grows as he heads to our bedroom.

He’s nearly up the stairs by the time I snap out of it, and I let out a small breath, more of a steadying thing than anything else, and trail after him.

When I reach the doorway, he’s there, framed by the soft light from the bedside lamp. His tie hangs loose around his neck, and his thick fingers unbutton his cufflinks before he places them on the dresser.

His gaze flicks to me, head cocking to the side. He looks undone, hair falling over his brows, casting his face in shadows.

My heart skips once, then settles into a faster rhythm. I should say something. Anything. Instead, I stand there waiting…

He straightens. “Come here.”

It’s low and sure, the kind of tone that settles into my bones, making me not want to argue.

I take a step forward. Then another.

When I reach him in the middle of the room, his eyes roam over me, steady and deliberate. From my face to my neck, down to where my dress dips across my chest.

“Was your plan to make me jealous?” His tone is deep, but there’s something sharper under it. Possessive.

I blink, caught off guard by the question. “No.”

His mouth curves, not quite a smile. “You did a good job anyway.”

I shift my weight, not sure what to do with my hands.

His gaze burns like a brand. “You walked into that place looking like temptation itself.”

I back away without thinking, an instinct to flee taking over.

Xander follows, every step measured. I keep retreating until the backs of my knees brush the bed.

He stops just close enough that I can feel the heat coming off him. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to stay back while every guy there looked at what’s mine?”

My heart skips. “They weren’t?—”

“Theywere,” His says. “Every one of them was picturing fucking you.”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

Xander takes my hand and presses it to his chest. His heartbeat thuds under my palm; it’s faster than I expect. The warmth of his skin bleeds through his shirt. My fingers twitch against him.

His gaze flicks down, watching the way my chest rises and falls. Then his hands drop to my hips, his touch firm. He traces the curve of my waist before sliding both hands down the sides of my thighs. His thumbs move in calculated strokes, dragging up and back down again, deliberate and claiming.

I can’t stop the faint gasp that escapes me when he leans in just enough that his lips graze my temple. “How much restraint it took. Standing there, knowing every man who looked at you wanted to know how youtaste.”

My pulse trips.

“Xander,” I whisper.

His hands tighten. Not enough to hurt, just enough to make me feel how much strength he’s holding back. “Tell me, did you think about them?”

“I didn’t.” My voice comes out quieter than I mean it to. “Only you.”

That seems to reach him. His grip eases. He exhales through his nose.

His hands move higher, the fabric sliding against my thighs, goose bumps rising in their wake. His eyes drop lower, landing on the thin strip of black lace that suddenly feels far too delicate.