01| Arnica.

Arnica Savage: 23 years old.

Maverick Quinn: 28 years old.

*

Willingly drowning in the depths of my slumber, a gentle sigh is pulled from my lips when a set of large hands gently start to caress my body.

It rouses a delightful tingle to dance along my feverish skin, followed by a rush of eagerness coursing through my entire being.

My fantasy lover is the closest thing I have gotten to anyone showing me any true affection in the last couple of years. 

Riddled with past traumas, it’s difficult to let a real man into my life that I can trust. 

“Let me show you how good I can make you feel every morning waking up next to me, Angel.”

I jolt awake the second I realise what is happening. 

My eyes spring wide open as I scramble out of bed upon hearing a baritone voice that has a direct line to my inner core. Swallowing thickly, I place my palm over my chest, willing my galloping heart to slow down.

To my horror, I wasn’t snuggling up to some random man in my dreams. I was snuggling with a real man which currently has me feeling uneasy.

A little violated, confused and disgusted within myself.

Straightening my spine, I peer over the side of the mattress and look at the mysterious man, who is now lying on his back with one arm slung over his eyes. He’s butt-naked, his torso is covered in ink, and he is in impeccable shape. 

My lips twist with confusion as my brows pinch together creating a V above the bridge of my nose. 

There's something familiar about him that I can't quite put my finger on.

Tearing my gaze away from the beautiful man, I scan the room for my clothes and the rest of my belongings. I spot my dress hanging off the barstool in the kitchen and my heels scattered across the carpet. 

The mysterious man with jet-black hair groans as he turns his back to me and reaches across the mattress like he is seeking me out. 

Pulling my lower lip between my teeth, I get on all fours and crawl across the carpet. When I reach the kitchen area, I slowly stand up, pressing the heel of my hand against my temple as the Earth begins to spin beneath me.

“Arnica?” 

I freeze upon hearing my name soar through the hotel suite. Swallowing thickly, I slide the dress over my body with my eyes glued towards the room I just crawled out of – silently praying my one-night stand hasn’t woken up and wants to… I don’t know.

Have breakfast together.

I snatch my purse from the kitchen counter, swiftly stoop down, retrieve my heels, and turn towards the door. As I twist the handle and pull the door open to make my daring escape, a surge of desire engulfs me when I suddenly find myself pressed against the door, trapped by a strong hand closing it above my head.

“Leaving so soon, Angel?”  His voice was like velvet, caressing my ear canals, creating a plague of goosebumps across my exposed flesh.

Dropping my chin and resting my head against the cool slab of timber, I exhale deeply. “Look, last night was-”

“Fucking amazing.” He cuts me off darkly.

I chuckle, “I was going to say it was a mistake.”

A firm hand suddenly rests upon my stomach, his fingers spread wide as the tips dig into my dress. I gasp as he presses his front firmly against my back and dips his head, so his lips are a whisper away from touching my tingling earlobe.

I can feel his erection, and I squeeze my eyes shut, clenching my teeth as I will my body not to move an inkling. 

“Hmm, the smell of your arousal tells a different story.” He whispers as his hand slowly moves from my belly, down my thigh and under the hemline of my dress. 

He grazes the pad of his thumb against my clit, eliciting a desperate moan escaping my lips. 

A low growl filled with approval departs his lips. "No panties." He states hoarsely. “Tell me it was a mistake and I will stop, Little Mouse. Tell me you don’t remember me filling you last night, making you come undone in my arms over and over with my name leaving your lips in a silent plea for me to never stop.” 

I inhale sharply, feeling a surge of anticipation as he licks his lips and his touch intensifies. My body responds instinctively, and I find myself opening up to him when he slips a finger inside me. 

My heels and purse hit the carpet with a soft thud - already forgotten about.

Breathless, like I am trying to reel in my escaping breath, I place the palms of my hands firmly against the door. 

I find myself paralyzed by his delicious assault, never wanting it to end, but for the sake of my sanity, needing him to stop.

My traitorous body refuses to catch up to my mind and push him away from me. 

“Who are you?” I gasp, sucking on my lower lip to suppress a moan from soaring between my lips as my eyeballs slightly roll heavenward.

I can't believe I am letting a stranger do this to me. What the fuck has gotten into me?

He enters the tip of a second digit, followed by a third inside of me, and I can feel my inner walls clenching around his fingers while he presses the tip of his cock against my ass. 

Relentlessly pumping his fingers deep inside me, “you know who I am and if you refuse to remember, I’ll make it my morning's mission to remind you.” His voice is filled with a dark promise that screams pain. But in a good way.

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking now, would I?” I snap, squeezing my eyes shut as the first wave of my orgasm slams into me, causing my knees to buckle beneath me.

Withdrawing his fingers from inside me, my mystery man turns me around and picks me flush up off the ground, pinning my back against the door. 

Flustered and turned on like a hormonal teenage girl desperately trying to lose her V-card, I brazenly raise my gaze to meet his; it feels like my soul has suddenly left my body.

With a gaze as radiant as a clear sky crowned with golden flecks, I find myself impulsively reaching out and tugging on his right earlobe with a surprising force.

“You son of a bitch!” I cry out, tugging harder until he releases me. “What the fuck are you doing here, Matthias!?” I can barely control the tremble in my high-pitched voice riding my words that are filled with pain and regret. So much fucking regret. “I told you, I never wanted to see you again.”

Tears filled with heartache, confusion and immense anger engulf me, leaving wet streaks down my cheeks.

It's quite surprising that I failed to recognise him when I caught a quick glimpse of him earlier, or even when I heard his voice.

Not only that but what the fuck was I thinking last night?

Matthias Quinn. He was the love of my life before I found my ex-best friend riding him in a dark corner of Club Sapphire three years ago. 

Matthias rubs his earlobe, grunting in pain, before he straightens his spine and glares at me darkly. Before I can react, his hand flies out and his fingers wrap themselves around the base of my throat. 

“I don’t ever want you to fucking call me Matthias again.” He hisses savagely, forcing my gaze to meet his. “I am not my brother. And I sure as hell won’t have my wife screaming her ex-lovers' name when I’m balls deep inside her.” 

Stunned, “M-Mar… Maverick, what, married?” I stammer, clawing at his wrists, trying to break free from his clutches while figuring out how I mistaked him for Matthias when he is two years older than him. And insanely intimidating.

“That’s right, Arnica... Angel. It's me, Maverick.” He smirks dangerously with a sinister tone caressing his words. “And we are married, and I don’t intend to get a divorce, ever.”