"WHAT!"
"I said, Are you fucking him?" Arielle repeats.
Phantom looks to Fallon. She shrugs at her. She looks back to Arielle. Arielle stares unblinking at her.
"Well, yes. I am fucking him. Although, it's more like he is fucking me."
The women stare at each other for a moment.
The next second, they all burst into laughter. When their giggles subside, Phantom says,
"Wow, I didn't think it would go down that way,"
"Me too," Arielle replies.
"So, I know he is no doubt stellar in his..... performance," Fallon says, ".....but on a scale of 'fireworks' to 'ripping apart the sheets', how would you rate your orgasms with him?"
Phantom looks to Arielle, then replies,
"Try 'eye-rolling, hip-bucking, convulsing spontaneous multi-orgasmic climax."
"What!" Fallon and Arielle exclaim at the same time.
"Yeah. He is that good." Phantom replies as she takes a sip of her milk.
"Oh my god," Arielle whispers, "You think he can hear us?"
"Maybe. I have to leave though,"
Phantom looks to the other women, then adds, "We're planning a surprise party for him."
"We?" Arielle asks.
"Yeah. You didn't think the two of us were the only Shifters in town. Did you?"
Phantom slowly glides down the stool and walks to the sink. She rinses her glass and proceeds out of the kitchen. She stops at the entry, gives them a backward glance and says,
"Get ready. It's by nine."
Phantom's words drip with mystery, and Arielle wonders if this 'party' is actually something more.
What bothers her more is Phantom's scent. If she had just had sex with Aaron, his scent would no doubt be on her. But Arielle couldn't smell him—and Aaron's scent is pretty hard to miss.
He is warm and masculine, everything bold and desirous.
He is like Incensed candles in a windowless room.
Overpowering, drugging and addictive, corrupting you to a mind-fogging need and to the passion swirling behind his amber eyes.
Judging by the strength of Aaron's scent, and it's absence, it was clear he hadn't laid a finger on Phantom in a really long time.
There was absolutely no doubt she'd lied. But the question is, why would she?
She found Aaron in his room, bent over a leather-bound journal. She stands at the door and admires the comfy design of the bedroom and appeal of her Alpha. He still doesn't know about her dreams, or the dangerous effect he has on her. Which is why she's in his room, awkwardly staring at him.
Aaron looks up and spots her, and she spies his eyes darken slightly behind his spectacles. So he does feel something. Arielle blushes and quickly lowers her head. Her hair falls over her face, blocking out the pink.
"Are you okay, Ms. Hiarton?"
Her head whips up at Aaron's enquiry. She had being trying to keep her billionaire life secret. She didn't want to ruin the harmony and serendipity she had found in the bowels of wild country by backward peeks at her glamorous lifestyle. It seemed she had stepped into a time machine, and all she wanted was to destroy it, so she could never go back.
"Arielle?"
His bass voice rings towards her as he moves closer.
She immediately moves away, her hand going straight to her neck. She avoids his eyes, his hair, his jaw, his neck, his.....
Arielle clears her throat.
"I have some questions."