The first time, he had pinned her down on the bed, barely restraining himself from kissing her senseless. She’d looked so small beneath him, eyes wide with fear, lips trembling not in weakness but in want.
Arthur smirked faintly at the memory. She always acted like she had the upper hand in their arguments—sassy, mouthy, impossible, but the moment she started losing, her small feet would shuffle backward like they had a mind of their own. She didn’t even notice she did it. But he noticed.
And he loved the chase. He leaned back slightly, arms crossed over his chest, gaze drifting to her again. Her mouth twitched in her sleep. Even now, she looked like she was ready to argue.
God, she was a contradiction. He had never liked someone this much after Cecil. It wasn’t supposed to be like this
