Page 63 of Arranged Control

I’m at the point where I’m keeping Sistine open an hour longer and taking more private appointments just to avoid coming home to this wreck.

“I can tell you’re upset,” he says, which is him pretending like he cares. But he’s grinning huge now and not even trying to hold it back anymore.

“I know I’m being a pain in the ass,” I say, grinding my jaw and glaring death at him. “But you have to meet me halfway. I’m not asking you to be perfect. Lord knows you never will be.”

“I’m already pretty good,” he says, stretching casually. “Who needs perfect?”

“I need better. Please, Seamus. Clean up. That’s all I’m asking.”

“This is fun. What a classic couple argument.”

I rub my face and groan. “Seamus. It’s not a game.”

“Come on. We’re fighting about basic cleanliness tasks. That’s like New Relationship 101. Isn’t it exciting?”

“No, it’s really not.”

He holds up his hands in defeat. “Alright, alright, I see that this is important to you, and I will meet you halfway.”

“Thank you.” I unclench my jaw. “I appreciate that.”

He slowly stands and pulls off his shirt. I stare, not sure what’s happening. He tosses it down into the pile on the floor and unbuckles his belt.

I back away, eyebrows raising slowly.

“What?” he asks, a smirk getting outrageous as he kicks his pants away.

I’m blinking rapidly. “Why are you taking off your clothes?”

“Oh, this?” He strips off his underwear next until he’s only in socks. “I clean naked.”

I turn my back, cheeks burning. “Seamus.”

“What’s cleaner than naked? It’s pure and free.”

“Put your clothes back on.”

“They’re all going into the laundry, darling.” He walks past me, arms full of his clothes. Totally freaking nude.

I nearly choke as I stare at his firm ass and muscular thighs. I have to walk very quickly down to the kitchen before I can start breathing properly again.

He’s doing this on purpose.

The absolute animal has zero shame.

I should be mad. I really, really should.

But he’s so absurdly sexy.

Seamus comes downstairs a minute later with the vacuum. He’s humming to himself, cock free and dangling in the wind as he flips it on and starts cleaning the floors. I watch him, fanning myself, mouth watering with each graceful movement.

He’s cleaning. And he’s naked.

My two favorite things in the world.

This is fucked up. I’m aware of that on some deep, fundamental level. I shouldn’t be this turned on right now. I doubt he got the vacuum out thinking it would make me wet.

But that’s happening.