by Mari Carr
He shifted in his seat and closed his eyes.
What was she answering “Yes” to? What were the “Noes”?
He hoped there weren’t too many Noes. He liked everything on the list, though some of them were only mildly interesting.
But with Liz…well, he wanted to do it all. And more.
His phone buzzed.
I’m done.
Marc smiled in satisfaction, started his car, and pulled forward so he was directly in front of her house.
Liz was standing in the open door, silhouetted by soft light that spilled from inside her house.
He turned off his car, hopped out, and came around to the passenger side. He leaned on the fender, crossing his legs at the ankle.
Liz crouched and set the portfolio on the step. Marc waited for her to look down and then moved forward. He was only steps away when Liz straightened. She jumped a little when she saw him.
“Hand it to me.” His voice was more growl then words, though he hadn’t meant it to be.
Liz straightened, her shoulders coming back. “I believe you have something for me?” She held out her hand.
Marc wanted to paddle her ass for her defiant tone—he was unspeakably glad this wasn’t going to be easy.
He pulled his folded list from his back pocket and held it out to her. She took it, making sure their fingers didn’t touch. “Thank you.”
Marc took another step, caressing the back of her hand. Her fingers curled up into her palm, making a nervous fist. “I want you, more than anything.”
“What if I’m not?” she asked.
“Not what?”
“The kind of sub you want.”
“I’ll make sure we both get what we want.” He took her fist, uncurled her fingers, and rubbed her palm with his thumb. “What we need.”
“I’m not wired the same as those other girls.” Anxiety etched lines on her face.
There was pain in her voice, more than he’d expected. She really was worried that she wouldn’t be what he wanted. Marc opened his mouth but closed it again, not sure how to assure her that this would all work out.
After all, he wasn’t entirely sure it would. He was certain he wanted to try.
Marc stooped and picked up the portfolio.
“Trust me.” He cupped her chin. “Trust that I know what I want and—” he held up the portfolio, “—now I know what you want.”
She nodded ever so slightly, then tilted her face into his palm, letting his hand take the weight of her head.
Something he didn’t care to examine too closely welled in Marc’s chest.
Tipping Liz’s face up, he pressed his lips to hers in a chaste kiss and walked away.