He looked completely in control, a master taming a wild cat. It shocked me when abruptly, that mischievous air about him dissolved entirely and he blanched.
“What is it?”
“Is that why you didn’t like me calling you sugar? Because of Brayden?”
“I don’t think that’s the reason.” I just had to reassure him. Somehow, sometime, I also had to make him stop taking other’s blame. “It only seemed you were taunting me.”
“I was not. Not entirely.” He offered a small smile, but the downcast appearance immediately returned. “Did you have any more nightmares?”
“One,” I said in a small voice, gauging his reaction. His hands tightened around the steering wheel, the car suddenly moved faster, and he scowled in silence at the road ahead.
“Tell me.”
“No. Marcus—I want you to understand that you have nothing to feel responsible for.”
My attempts at reassuring him failed miserably. I doubted he had even heard me. Stubbornness was yet another trait on the endless list of Marcus’s complex personality, but so was determination, and he was going to be relentless until he chased all my nightmares away.
I sighed and massaged the bridge of my nose, pondering his theory. Maybe not knowing his friends was the reason my mind overreacted. So I decided that I owed it to both of us to at least try to see those men through his eyes.
“I can’t even put names to faces. Tell me about them. I promise to listen.”
Marcus glanced at me doubtfully then acquiesced to my request and met me halfway, where I was waiting for him.
“When you came to my apartment, the second one who left was Bryson.”
It was the blonde one who looked older, yet more affable than the other, although I still had my doubts if such a term was appropriate for a man like him. It was the blonde who had seemed to encourage the other one on that Friday night rather than take matters into his own hands.
“We met in college at a party. We bonded over subsequent debaucheries and improprieties. The first time I knew I could count on him for more than having fun and getting drunk was when he stood up to my father for me. Nobody had done that before.
“After that, his scholarship was withdrawn for mysterious reasons. He never cared. He never allowed my father to intimidate him.”
“You feel like you owe him.”
“I do, Charlotte. Not because he stood up to Isaac. I owe him for the countless times he put me back on my feet when I was at my lowest. I have a tendency to hit rock bottom.”
Marcus smiled bitterly as if remembering something unpleasant. When he didn’t find in my gaze the accusation he might have expected, his eyes narrowed, and he rubbed his chin with the back of his hand.
I didn’t see him as a man who hit rock bottom frequently. I saw him as the man strong enough to pursue what he wanted.
“You met the side of him I disapprove of. You met the Bryson who encourages his brother when he should beat some sense into his thick skull. I have a mind to do that myself, though.”
“Brayden is his brother?”
A sudden chill seized me by the throat and invaded my whole body. He was the protagonist of my nightmares.
“Yes.”
The serenity of his eyes turned dark. Displeasure rolled off him in tangible waves. He appeared deep in thought before he pursed his lips and returned his attention to the road. What was going through his mind?
“I will not try to defend him,” he started. “I do not tolerate his behavior any more than you had, but he has not always been like this. When Bryson and I were in college, Brayden used to be an incurable romantic.”
“That’s a little difficult to...imagine.”
I knew I had just scoffed and rolled my eyes, but suddenly, I doubted we were thinking of the same nasty man.
“I don’t like to disclose other’s secrets or invade their privacy, but after what he did to you, after the way he scared you, I don’t think he is in the position to make any complaints.”
The surroundings that blurred past us slowly became familiar. Marcus was driving us to his secret house by the pond. The thought made me smile as anticipation built deep inside me. That house didn’t feel just miles away from our real lives but in a whole different world—Marcus’s private world.
“Brayden doesn’t have a kidney. In brief, he donated his perfectly good kidney to the woman he was going to marry. I can’t even come close to comprehending the amount of love and selfishness a man must possess to literally give up a part of himself. Brayden possessed all that love. I don’t think I saw him happier than the day the doctor told him he was compatible for the donation, not even the day he got engaged.
“Then, seven months after the successful surgery, Brayden and Bryson went home for Thanksgiving. Brayden came back to New York early because he simply missed her. He—he found her in bed—their bed—with another man, screaming a foreign name in pleasure. The sweet Brayden we knew died that day, and a cruel misogynist took his place. That is why he behaves the way he does. His behavior, however, ceased to be excusable long ago.”
My fingers involuntarily wrapped around my throat and absently massaged the flesh that was warm in spite of the coldness within. Beyond all expectations, I empathized, but I empathized with the ache and disillusionment of the man who had seen his life collapsing after a cruel betrayal not with the man he had become.
“Marcus, it never has.”
“I know. And I am partly to blame for how Brayden still behaves.”
His unrequited love with blame was becoming genuinely frustrating, but I decided against speaking my mind for the time being. Marcus watched me somberly, assessing more than my reaction. He weighed my frame of mind.
Seriousness was laced with the covert sensuality Marcus radiated, the very same that fanned the flames of my desire. I looked away, closing my eyes and discreetly biting my lip. What was he doing to me?
“I think you can identify Kai already,” he continued in a steady voice.
I nodded, and the image of the tall brown-haired man returned to my mind. I was still somewhat stunned by how hopeless he had looked Saturday night before he left Marcus’s apartment. It was difficult to reconcile the idea of him suffering for a woman and the amusement he drew out of scaring women in dark, empty allies.
“He is my cousin. He is three years younger than me. After—after my mom—”
Words abruptly failed him. Grabbing the wheel forcefully and shutting his eyes tightly, he poured his anger into the car he was driving way above the speed limit. By the time he refocused on me, he was struggling to slow down.
I believed I could understand, even for a little bit, why he raced. He sought the blankness that swallowed all the thoughts that tormented him. He sought the exhilaration and relief of not thinking.
“I used to live a lot with my mother’s sister. Kai was very little at the time and awfully dependent. I think the more he annoyed me with his childish clinginess, the more I felt the need to protect him. I had never wanted a brother because I already had Kai. He is good, Charlotte. He is the best of us. I think you sensed that already.”
“Does he race too?”
Marcus grinned. He had expected my question. “He does. He is much better than I am.”
“God, is it a family trait?”
Marcus responded to my frustrated groan with a lighthearted laugh and placed his hand on my knee in quiet reassurance.
“He is an interior designer. He followed in our grandfather’s footsteps. Of course, in his spare time, he is also a painter, troublemaker, and wounded puppy.”
“So many talents.”
He laughed again but didn’t add anything else, which gave me time to ponder his request.
“I know you are right. I know that meeting with them might help me, but—give me a little time. Let me assimilate what you have told me.”
“I am not pressuring you, Charlotte.”
He was not pressuring me, but he was persuading me,
which was so much worse because I blindly let him. Sighing, I shook my head to dispel the gloomy thoughts. Then I changed topic just like he was so fond of doing himself.
“What are you in your spare time?”
“Exquisite lover.”
Heat invaded me, so powerful and merciless that it conquered me before I even thought of resisting it. Marcus licked his lips slowly, allowing me to see the tip of his tongue as it stroked and dampened every millimeter of his luring mouth.
“And exceedingly modest,” I retorted.
Chapter 18
Charlotte
During my first visit to Marcus’s forest house, I had been too overwhelmed to pay much attention to the house itself. It was an impressive two-story house, reasonably small, yet it looked like an enormous beacon in the growing dark. Modern architecture merged with a pleasant rustic style. The simple exterior was almost somber, save for the high wall of glass that separated the inner living area from the outer porch.
It was, however, the upper floor attracting my attention as I looked at the house. A large balcony, the size of a whole room, with an ornate metal banister, extended in front of the glass wall that was bathed in amber light. I couldn’t help but wonder if that was Marcus’s bedroom, and the sudden curiosity brought a fierce blush to my cheeks.
“Walk with me.”
Marcus brushed his lips against my temple and tightened his hold on my hand. Nodding, I followed his lead around the house and to the pond.
The air smelled of rain and Marcus. In his one-armed embrace, with his lips brushing every so often against my forehead and my cheek, the smoldering ache in my bones almost disappeared.
As the silence stretched, only the soft whistle of the wind and the rustle of leaves could be heard. In front of the small expanse of water with its belt of camellias, there was the wooden sculpture of a lion that served as a bench. Marcus sat and pulled me onto his lap, his arms closing naturally around my waist.
“Are you still mad at me?”
“I wasn’t mad.” He arched an eyebrow and tilted his head to the side. “I was disconcerted. You disconcert me.”
“That can’t be altogether bad.” He smiled against my face and ran his hand through my hair making me shiver. I couldn’t have remained mad at him even if I had tried.
“Easy for you to say,” I sulked, but responded to his chaste kiss as soon as his lips touched mine.
“You disconcert me too, Charlotte. You have no idea.”
“Tell me, then.”
“Hm...” He laughed and shook his head. “I don’t make a habit out of empowering women against me.”
“How would you empower me against you?”
“Women control men without knowing how much they affect us. I don’t want to imagine the amount of power a woman can wield once she is in possession of that knowledge.”
“That can’t be altogether bad,” I replied, using his own words. We both laughed, but it was Marcus who stopped first.
The transition from laughing to tantalizingly serious was abrupt and staggering. With narrowed eyes, he pinned me in place, his gaze searing through me. My lips parted spontaneously, and Marcus responded with a throaty groan. When he leaned in, the first drops of rain finally sprinkled our foreheads.
I looked up, grateful for the cold drops cooling my flesh as they fell more and more frequently. Marcus took my mouth, capturing the raindrops that had gathered between my closed lips with one swift lick of his tongue. He ignited and appeased in equal measure a deep hunger in the pit of my stomach.
“You are so sweet, so tempting, Charlotte, and I can’t stop myself from pulling you to the dark side. I don’t want to taint you, but I always end up tainting what I love the most.”
The loud cracking noise as my hand hit his cheek and brusquely pulled his head to the side stunned both of us. An unexpected anger and revolt boiled inside me, but it was anger merged with a fierce desire to shield him—shield him from himself.
“Don’t. Talk. Like. That.”
Each word distinct, spoken between clenched teeth. While he remained thunderstruck and I glared furiously at him, it had started raining in earnest.
“What was that for?” he hissed, but he was more surprised than mad.
“I do have my own volition. I don’t need you to denigrate yourself to change my mind. I will not allow you to.”
“Don’t say I haven’t warned you, dear Charlotte.”
He stood with me in his arms, my legs tautly circling his waist and my hands twisted in his damp hair. He walked back to the house, not letting go of me, while a thick, incessant veil of water soaked us.
We didn’t kiss, but the electrifying intensity of our locked stares made up for anything else. The water bathing our bodies was cold, but heat raged in our blood.
When he pushed the glass door open and strode inside with me in his arms, he was smiling. Disconcerting, to say the least. I frowned, and his grin widened, a boyish light reducing the tension in his features.
“What’s so funny?” I snapped.
Marcus closed the door with his foot, but instead of putting me down, he gripped me tighter. It was dark, quiet, and intimate. I was aware that water dripped from our soaked clothes and that I was attached to him like a spider to a wall, but I couldn’t bring myself to move either. With one hand still twisted in his wet hair and the other one resting against his heart, I found myself succumbing to the unique spell only Marcus could cast.
“Nobody has ever slapped me before for talking badly about myself.”
“Get used to it then.”
“Where you are concerned, there are a lot of things I need to get used to.” He clasped the hand I was holding over his heart, and his eyes bore into mine with raw, quickening emotion. “For instance, this feeling that you brought to life right here.”
With our joined hands, he massaged his chest. His breath was heavy and uneven, and drops of water were rolling down his face. Strong, furious thuds reverberated against my cold hands. In the perfect silence of the house, I could hear his every sound, and he could hear every pulsation of my blood.
Marcus bent to place me back on solid ground, but I tightened my legs around his hips and watched him boldly. He tried once more to disentangle me from his body and chuckled when he was acquainted with my stubborn resistance. I loved his laughter and the calm expression that settled on his face.
“You are really strong for such a little woman.”
“I am not little,” I hissed, offended, and punched him in his right shoulder.
“Of course not,” he kept taunting me even as I jumped off him and shot him a glare.
Immediately, he pulled me back, closer to him. With him so tall, hovering over me and inspecting me, I did feel small, but I felt small in a bewilderingly pleasant and feminine way.
My breath hitched, and my heart started pounding faster with anticipation. It nearly hurt to be so close to him. I was afraid I couldn’t stop the feelings that grew and conquered barriers that had been frozen in place for such a long time.
Towing me slightly to the side, Marcus reached somewhere behind me. “I think it’s safer for you if the room is properly lit. Just in case.”
“I can handle myself very well in the dark, thank you very much.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen that.” He raised an eyebrow mockingly, clearly reminding me about the incident at the office.
The soft click of the switch echoed before a blinding light spread around us, hurting my eyes. I blinked rapidly, trying to accustom my sight to the new illumination, but Marcus was quick to notice my discomfort. Flicking off the blinding lights, he switched on the amber spotlights.
“Better?” he demanded softly.
“Yes, thank you.”
The atmosphere had suddenly become more intimate, more engaging. Magnetism revolved around us, drawing restricted desires to the surface and pulling us closer. Worrying my lip between my teeth, I wondered if he could feel the same heated electricity I felt when I was th
is close to him.
“Let’s get you some fresh clothes.”
His voice was tight and hardly controlled, but his eyes were blue wildfire. There was no shred of control in their depths, and I was categorically pleased.
“Marcus, what are you doing?” I screamed all of a sudden.
He scooped me up and threw me over his shoulder, laughing as I tried to kick, but he quickly immobilized my legs with his strapping arms.
Suddenly, he stopped, and so did my grunts and squirming. I expected him to drop me any minute now, but he only held me tighter.
“Marcus...” he mocked and started ascending wooden stairs, covered by a maroon carpet.
“It’s your name, isn’t it? Should I call you Mr. King? Put me down already.”
“So bossy.” Marcus laughed and, evidently, did not obey. “And no, I love how my name sounds on your lips.”
Upstairs there were no doors and no hallways but an ample, almost unending space that was Marcus’s bedroom. He put me down in the middle of the room, wearing a playful and elated expression. As soon as I shot him a glare, I understood that his intention had been to goad me.
I looked around, upon a room decorated in nuances of cream and mahogany. The entire floor was dominated by a King-sized bed with a garnet wooden headboard and a matching duvet. Huge pillows and cylindrical cushions were covered in cream silk and were perfectly arranged on top of the comforter.
In front of the bed, there was a low bench with dark velvet upholstery that contrasted with the light cream carpet covering the floor. The opposite wall was made of glass and it looked over the balcony. An ensemble, consisting of a small couch, two loveseats, and a carved tea table, was well-ordered in what represented a small sitting area.
Except for a few tall lamps strategically placed around the room and the impressive chandelier hanging from the ceiling, there were no other decorations. It was a clean, vast space that shrunk and became smaller with Marcus standing proud and tall within its confines.
“You’re going to soak my carpets, and I bought them at an auction.”
My eyes fluttered back to Marcus, and he owned my attention instantly. He greeted me with a quiet, wistful smile and a bone-penetrating gaze. I realized then that, although we were indeed soaking the carpets, he was only teasing. Bought at an auction or not, the space was too marvelous to be ruined.
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