A Second Chance With Arthur?
But I shouldn't have.
Arthur had his back to me, his back muscles flexing, as he pulled the hoodie over his head. There was a tattoo, little ones scattered to form a shape that I couldn't label. But it was beautiful.
He slipped on a white sleeveless shirt from the wardrobe, and I should have turned my eyes then, but I didn't, and his eyes met me.
He scoffed. “I should be scared of you.”
“Why?” My voice had to come low.
“Hear yourself.”