Arlene's POV
"There's no one else," I whisper, trying to steady my racing heart.
My entire body betrays me the moment his tongue traces the sensitive skin of my neck. I can't suppress the gasp that escapes when his teeth graze my throat, when he draws my skin between his lips and marks me like I belong to him. Every rational thought screams that I should be terrified of this dangerous man, but my body responds with a heat that makes my knees weak. I find myself tilting my head back, offering him more access like some lovesick fool.
"Good girl," he growls against my throat, moving to claim the other side of my neck.
When he finally pulls back, I'm clinging to the elevator wall, struggling to catch my breath. The guilt that washes over his face is immediate and devastating. He stares at what he's done to my neck, then jerks away like my skin has burned him.
"Warner—"
"I'm sorry. Damn it," he runs both hands through his hair, panic flickering in his eyes.
