Chapter 8

He turns towards me slowly, catching my hand behind him and pulling it, so I’m drawn to face him, that mask of indifference firmly in place and eyes zoning in on mine intensely. Even though it’s dark, I know those hazel eyes will have more than a few specks of green sparkling in the depths. They become obvious and intense when he’s pissed. My stomach flickers again, nerves making me uneasy. My lip finds its way between my teeth nervously as the hammering of my heart returns. His eyes go to the childish gesture, and he knits his brows in irritation.

“What was that?” He frowns at me, anger well hidden beneath that cool and calm exterior in which he excels, but I catch that tight tone under the silky deep depths of that smooth voice. Arrick never lets much out publicly. He’s a guy who hates drama and making a scene, hates being overly emotional, and has only gotten much worse since dating Natasha. The queen of proper and prude, she’s practically an emotional cripple, publicly any