Chapter 6: You’re good in bed

The next morning hit me like a freight train. My body ached in places I didn't even know could hurt. Every muscle screamed as I sat up, the sheets tangled around me like a trap. Arthur Sandlin was a damn bastard. I looked down at myself. My chest was covered in red marks, bruises on my arms from where he'd gripped me. He hadn't held back. Not one bit. And I was pissed about it. Sort of. "So... how was it? Did I live up to expectations?" A voice came from the other side of the bed. Low. Smooth. Way too calm for how wrecked I felt. I spun toward him, eyes wide. Arthur lay there, propped up on one elbow, like he was in no rush to move. His expression was unreadable. Panicked, I grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around me fast. I knew I had no right to feel awkward after last night, but I couldn't help it. "What's this now? Playing the blushing virgin?" he said, standing and moving closer. "You weren't exactly shy last night." His tone dripped with judgment, like I was just some cheap thrill he'd already filed away and forgotten. I stood up, yanked my clothes off the floor, and got dressed right in front of him. Screw dignity. I had none left. "You're good in bed. That thing between your legs isn't just for show. I got what I needed." I threw the words at him like a brick, my gaze dipping to his crotch before I looked him in the eye again. Arthur's expression darkened. His eyes narrowed like I'd just slapped him. "Jesus. Are all women like this now? Is there any line you won't cross?" He looked pissed. But not just at me. Like something deeper had hit him. Then his eyes dropped to the bed. His jaw clenched. I followed his gaze. There it was. The red stain on the sheets. My stomach twisted. I had waited. All those years with Julian. I thought our first time would be something meaningful, something real. I thought it would happen on our wedding night. But instead... Instead, I gave it away to a man I barely knew, in a hotel room, fueled by whiskey and heartbreak. Arthur looked at me again, slower this time. "Was that... your first time?" I met his eyes, but my voice came out flat. "So what if it was? You have some kind of virgin complex or something?" He looked thrown. His expression said more than his words ever could. I grabbed my bra and fastened it without blinking. "Don't get weird about it. It meant nothing." He stayed quiet for a second, then asked, "What do you want? Money?" I turned, eyebrows raised. "Excuse me?" "Name your price. You're clearly not the first woman I've slept with. Most of them know what they're here for." My face burned. He thought I was a hook-up with a price tag. A transaction. "You seriously think I slept with you for money?" I stared at him, disgusted. "Let's get one thing straight. That wasn't about love. That wasn't about revenge. That was two people making a mistake. And it's already over." I grabbed my purse and headed for the door. "We don't know each other. And starting now, we never will." I didn't wait for him to respond. I walked out. I didn't look back. Naomi's apartment smelled like old coffee and citrus cleaner. The second I walked in, she rushed over, her expression a mix of panic and relief. "Serena! You didn't come back last night! Do you have any idea how worried I was? I couldn't get through to your phone. Please don't tell me you were with Julian."