Chapter 10 #3
I clear my throat. “Why do you have a coffin in here?”
He shrugs again. “I like them.” I’m unable to stop a horrified laugh, and Arhe’s mouth turns down. Oh god, he looks actually upset. “Are you laughing at me?”
I choke back the sound and shake my head.
I don’t want to hurt him. I like him way too much, and I have a feeling that people haven’t been very kind to him about his odd hobbies.
I take a step closer and slowly reach for him, pressing my hands to his chest again.
He seemed to like that before, and when I do it now, he relaxes again.
“I’m sorry. I just…you have to understand.
” I pull away, and my hands start to move at the same time as my voice.
“I’ve been dealing with a stalker for so long, and I’ve felt in danger for so long, and yet here I am, in a basement with a man I don’t really know and who has a coffin in his room.
It’s just…not where I expected to be right now. ”
His gaze darkens, but I don’t feel afraid. ‘Your stalker,’ he signs. ‘Was it the same man from the alley?’
I swallow and then offer him a shrug. “I don’t know. I think so, but I didn’t get a good look at him.”
Arhe’s jaw clicks, and he folds his arms across his chest, then lifts them. ‘I will find.’
I don’t know what that means, but I’m pretty sure it’s not good. “And then what?” I ask.
He says nothing.
“Arhe,” I press. I have no idea if I’m saying his name right, and I don’t think I am because his eyebrow lifts when I try. Whatever, it’s not a name I’ve ever used before, and I’m Deaf. Sue me for getting it wrong. “What will you do if you find him?”
He gives me a wicked smile, and I shiver. “I will bury him in the backyard.”
I let out a laugh at that, but it fades at the serious look on his face.
Okay, yeah. Maybe some things are better left unsaid and Arhe’s secrets left buried.
But the idea that he would do that for me—that somehow I matter enough—sends want skittering down my spine and straight to my dick.
It thickens, and I bite my bottom lip, and he wets his own in response.
My cock twitches a little more in my pants, and I take a step back toward him. His head tilts as I lay a hand on his chest, right over his thumping heart.
“I want you,” I murmur.
His eyes grow hooded. “I want you too, little rabbit.”
His words are rough and dangerous, spoken in the back of his throat, hard for me to pick up, but the bits I do are like a growl, and fuck, I’m even harder now. “I like your voice.”
My fingers curl into his shirt, and I tug him a little closer to me. He comes willingly, his own hands landing on my waist. “You can hear it?” he asks.
I give a single, short nod. “Mostly. Yes.” I trace a touch over his mouth, and he chases my fingers with a nip, though he doesn’t catch them. His face goes soft again, and he traces a single finger down the side of my neck, then around to the front of my throat.
“I like yours.”
His head ducks, and he drags his nose across my pulse point, breathing in heavily as my hands drift into his thick locks.
I twist my fingers, tugging on his curls when his teeth scrape against my sensitive skin.
My entire body is a live wire, sparking, igniting. I feel dangerous and on a knife’s edge.
He lets out a growl so low I can only feel it rumbling against me, and then his lips hover over mine. His fingers skate down my lower back and grab onto my ass, and he squeezes roughly.
A moan slips out, and I arch into him, feeling his hard cock brush against my hip. “Arhe,” I groan, and his head pulls back.
‘Say that again,’ he signs. The look on his face is not sexy. It’s confused.
“Arhe. I’m not pronouncing it right, am I?”
His lips quirk. ‘Fingerspell.’
I do, slower than I would for a Deaf friend but quick enough. ‘ARHE.’
He snorts loudly and shakes his head. ‘Why do you think that’s my name?’
I freeze, my brows meeting. ‘What do you mean?’
He repeats the spelling, then shakes his head and scrapes his thumb under his chin before pointing to his chest. ‘Not me.’
My eyes go wide, and embarrassment squeezes around my neck with heavy heat. “What do you mean? Your brother told me your name.”
‘Which?’
It takes me a second to remember each of their names. ‘Milo.’
His lips curl up at the corners, a full smile on display. It takes my breath away. He doesn’t look dangerous right now. He looks young, carefree. Shaking his head, he grabs me by the wrist and kisses the tips of my fingers before letting me go. ‘ARCHIE,’ he spells. ‘My name.’
My mouth drops open. “What?” The embarrassed heat becomes hot magma, rushing into my cheeks.
‘Milo is very bad at ASL. Worst at spelling.’
I want to crawl under the floorboards. Or maybe into that coffin. I attempt to let my knees buckle, but Arhe—no, Archie—wraps an arm around my waist to keep me up as I sag against him. “I can’t believe I was calling you Arhe this entire time,” I groan against his chest.
He meets my gaze, then shrugs. ‘Doesn’t matter. Only this matters.’
And fuck. He’s right.