Page 114 of The Arrangement

Anton shook his head and offered a smile. “No. I suspected you’d probably have a moment, but I thought you’d be okay after you’d seen it on.”

So maybe they’d had a similar discussion once or twice. The day after she was brought home from the hospital, for example. A crazy amount of people had gathered at the Oceana house to welcome her back with a big dinner, and Viviana had been so overwhelmed that she hid in the master bedroom’s bath. She’d still been covered in bandages, face marked up something awful, and her stress levels were out of control. It wasn’t like she was trying to be rude, but Viviana didn’t know how else to handle the sudden influx of people staring at her.

It had been much too much.

Anton, confused and worried, found her in her hiding spot. That was also the first time he all but forced her to look in a mirror after the accident. She’d been avoiding it like the plague. It hadn’t been easy, but it served to prove a point she hadn’t wanted to face.

Yes, she’d been hurt, her pretty skin was a little marked up, but hell, she was alive.

And his.

Subsequently, Anton went about showing her just how much as his hands lifted the knee-length black dress she wore, spread her legs wider, and fit himself tight behind to take her soft, sweet, and slow. Despite the still simmering pain from her injuries, she didn’t feel a thing but him.

So fucking deep and good, his hands barricading hers on the bathroom counter as his blue eyes pierced into hers through the mirror’s reflection. Viviana swore she could feel every inch of her sex holding his cock tighter, pulling him in farther. She couldn’t even make sounds, just quiet breathy pants that fell from her parted lips against the side of his cheek.

Again, it had taken much too much, but in a whole new way.

Awestruck and spun.

Like it always had, sex seemed to fall somewhere in the lines of their communication.

They didn’t connect fully, otherwise. Intimacy was their link beyond words.

“Put it on,” Anton murmured, drawing her out of her thoughts.

“But—”

“Don’t. Put the dress on, Viviana. You can’t go down there naked. I wouldn’t get away with killing an entire room of men.”

Instinctively, she flinched at the comment. Viviana still couldn’t turn on a news channel for fear of seeing something about Sonny Carducci flashing over the screen. Anton might not have admitted it, but who else would have done it? Who else had the nerve? The question burned her tongue every time he got a little more quiet than normal. Viviana had to fill the silence just to keep from asking.

“Shit, baby … I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, putting it on,” she said, not wanting to dredge that up again.

Anton made his way to the bed, sitting on the edge as she fingered the ivory lace. Before she could pick the garment up, however, she found her wrist locked in the heat of his palm. With a gentle tug, her backside was firmly planted on his lap, legs dangling over the side of his thigh.

“Ouch, Anton.”

“You sure you want to marry me?”

“A little late to say no,” she quipped, pointing to her midsection.

As was his new favorite thing to do, his hand found her middle, lying flat with his fingers spread wide. The action always gave her butterflies, and this time was no exception. She liked it the very best when she woke to find his mouth kissing over her smooth flesh, sentimental tenderness reflecting in eyes that were so good at hiding what he usually felt.

Anton couldn’t hide his enjoyment over her pregnancy at all.

“I suppose …”

The twitching of his shaft hardening against her ass couldn’t be ignored. Viviana squirmed under his hold, desire washing through her veins.

“We’re going to be late.”

Anton shrugged. “Suddenly don’t care. I have no idea why.”

“The dress …”

“Let me take these pants of yours off,” he said, his tone turning husky as his fingers slipped under the cotton. When his hands came in contact with the lingerie she wore underneath, he hummed a lovely sound that had her core pulsing. “I don’t know what these are, but they feel so fucking nice.”