Arabella

Six was kissing me.

Those were the words ringing in my head. I was pressed up against the wall, his body trapping me in between. I could feel the bulge in his pants; he was aroused, and so was I.

And nothing else mattered—not the fact that we were in an elevator, nor the fact that Marco was in this building. Not even my anger toward Six could stop me from feeling all the things I was feeling in this moment.

I had been so conscious of him walking behind me; I could feel his piercing stare, and now that our bodies were pressed against each other and our...