I lifted my head to look at him in the eye and tell him to get his ass out of there, but when I looked I saw... pain. He'd gone pale and his mouth was gaped. His eyes seemed to have lost color, too. Shocked, I sat up straight.
He rubbed his hands on his face then looked at me. “Please tell me you don't believe this is about the color of our skin or their different hues,” he whispered. “That’s not my way, Mariah. What have I ever said or done to make you think I could think or be that way? Tell me what it was, and I promise I won’t do or say it again.”
Nothing. Not a fucking thing.
Ugh! Who asked you? Flip-flopping cow. Shut up.
“It doesn't matter what I believe, either way, Marcus. Please collect your date and leave,” I whispered as I stood.
He stood and wrapped his fingers around my upper arms. I groaned and stilled, staring at the floor again, begging myself to not react to the sensual heat his hands had on my damp skin. Marcus leaned down to tried to catch my gaze.
“Look at me,” he whispered so very softly. I warmed all over. This was too much.
“No.” A tear fell down my cheek. Damn it. I was losing the fight.
He released my arms and cupped my cheeks. He thumbed away my tear so gently it made me shiver. He raised my head and I reluctantly looked into his eyes. They were so warm and tender.
“I don't see color with anybody, especially you,” he whispered. “I see you, the person. I don't think I’d care if you were pink with green polka dots, baby; I'd just love you for who you are. I love you for you and nothing else. Never, ever think otherwise.”
I tried to remain hard but his words... my God, they made me melt. My tears flowed freely and my heart swelled. At that moment, I knew my conscience was right.
I loved him, too.
Told you. Listen to me on everything else, but this… noooo, you go mule on me!
I placed my hands on his forearms. He inhaled sharply at my touch and, still holding my face, lowered his head and kissed me in the soft, sweet way he did in the tub. I responded to his kiss and raised my arms to circle his neck. At my response, he moaned and released my face. He slid his arms around me and pulled me close. His hands rubbed my back and I moaned and deepened the kiss. His lips were like fire on mine. I felt him grow against my lower belly.
Just when I was re-thinking that throwing him on the couch thing, a bump at the door ripped us apart. We turned toward the exit and saw both doors wide open. Standing there gaping was only a few of the faces that were staring at us earlier.
“Damn it, Ethan,” Monica groaned.
“Sorry,” Ethan mumbled at me. He looked at the others, who were all glaring at him. He stuffed his hands into his pockets then shrugged as he reddened. “What? I tripped.”
Lisa smacked his chest with the back of her hand. She does that to him a lot, still.
“Ow,” he muttered, rubbing the spot where the blow landed.
“Guys...” I pleaded, wiping away my tears with my fingers. Marcus reached on the table for tissues then gently wiped my face.
“Okay, we're going. Come on, people nothing more to see here. Let's move it,” Nathan said and winked at me. I gave him a small smile but I was going kill him later.
“But...” my mom started.
T smiled and grabbed her hand. “Let’s give them some privacy, Mom,” he said softly. “They’ll be fine out here.”
She looked at me, then smiled when I nodded. “Okay,” she murmured and turned in the direction T was leading her.
“But what happened in February,” Monica mumbled, following.
Nathan froze and turned his head to me. His eyes sent a question.
When the rest of the group walked away, I shook my head at him and said, “No.”
“Are you sure, Bug?”
“Yes, Mr. Big Mouth. In my own time...”
“Of course,” he nodded then walked away.
Marcus grabbed my chin and pulled my gaze back to him. “We need to leave. I have to talk to you and we won't get any privacy here.”
I looked at his beautiful face. I wanted to do more than talk to him.
He kissed the side of my mouth. “We can do that after we've talked,” he whispered.
I gasped and my eyes widened. How did he know what I was thinking?
“Your eyes and your body talk to me; practically sings a sweet melody every time you come near me. It's so... intoxicating to watch.”
A heated blush spread throughout my entire body. My sex was on fire, very much in need, but I was still hesitant.
“Jeanelle,” I asked softly, searching his eyes.
“We arrived at the same time, not together. I used her to make you jealous,” he smiled, ruefully.
“It worked. That was mean, Marcus. I thought you had already moved on.”
“Would you care if I had,” he asked softly.
Duh.
“Yes, I would.”
He grinned and pulled me closer. “Good. Get dressed. I'm going to talk to your parents.”
“I have to shower first. I'll be awhile,” I whispered.
“Okay but try to hurry,” he urged. He hugged me then kissed my temple.
“I'll meet you in the living room,” I murmured.
He smiled as he nodded. “Okay, baby.”
I smiled back then walked toward the side entrance to the house. When I entered, I practically relayed to the guest room Lisa and I were using.
Chapter Nine
I love you, too, but…
I've showered and shampooed in a hurry then moisturized my hair. It fell in loose, natural curls down my back to my blades. This would have to do since I didn't have time to straighten it. I looked at it in the mirror and thought Marcus hadn't seen my hair in its natural state. My hand shot to my neck as I hoped he’d liked it.
Next, I wondered what Marcus would think of my appearance. I was wearing my yellow with white lily-printed maxi dress and white heeled sandals. The dress showed off my entire burn pattern.
Lisa was right. I shouldn't try to hide my burn. It's there and it always will be, no matter what I wear, so let people stare.
I briefly wondered why Marcus had never mentioned it as I turned sideways and got a good, long look at it. For the first time in years, I really glared at the entire thing, not just what’s visible on my neck. It goes from just under my jaw, down my neck and arm to just below the elbow. It curved my shoulder to my back and covered the blade. It's kind of like a natural tattoo of a flat, giant spider web. I sighed. It’s not really that bad but the stares… I just hated the attention it brought.
Shaking my head, I reached for my tinted lip gloss and threw it in my purse. I spritzed a little perfume on my neck and I give myself one last, long look. Grabbing my white purse, lift up the dress a little and went skipping down the stairs. Marcus stood when I entered the living room and looked me up and down.
“Mmm. Very nice,” he murmured. “You look stunning, baby.”
Yay!
I smiled and blushed. “Thank you.”
He smiled and pulled me into a long, lingering kiss.
“I love your hair this way. It's so soft. Beautiful,” he whispered against my throat as one of his hands caressed my scalp. The other hand was squeezing my ass. Suddenly he groaned and broke the embrace.
“Let's get out of here. We should talk before things get out of hand,” he murmured.
“One more kiss,” I whispered.
“No way, baby,” Marcus chuckled. “One more, and I'll lose all control. Let's go.”
He grabbed my hand and led me into the foyer and out the front door. As we approached his car, he pushed the remote then opened the door for me. Once I was situated inside, he closed the door and he walked around the front of the car to the driver's side. As he does, I noticed how graceful and confident his stride was, like a dancer. Why was he so graceful?
Marcus slid in and smiled at me. After he started the car and put it in gear, he reached over, took my hand in his
and squeezed.
“I'm happy you're with me,” he murmured as he brought my hand to his lips and kissed the pulse in my wrist. “What are you thinking, baby?”
I shuddered at his kiss. “Just wondering where we're going.” My voice was deep with passion.
And of you and us, naked and panting.
“Mine,” he whispered. “I live alone, so no one will bother us. No peeping Toms.”
“Or Moms,” I giggled back.
He laughed and squeezed my hand again. Marcus opened his hand and our fingers entwined. We rode the rest of the way in silence. He never let go of my hand and he rubbed my thumb with his.
* * *
Marcus’ building was three times as big as mine and had rows of extra-large windows facing at an angle, not straight out like normal. He walked over to open my door, and took my hand after I slid out. He led me to an outdoor glass elevator. He inserted a key and pressed five on the pad. The doors closed and we were whisked away.
He was still holding my hand.
The elevator opened on the fifth floor and we turned to the right, where there was only one door on the west wall. There was only one door on the east wall, too, and you'd have to turn left of the elevator to get to it.
He was about to insert the key into the lock when I got a panic feeling and tugged on his hand.
He looked down at me, with a small frown. “What's wrong, baby?”
I looked up at him, trying to figure out how to ask him tactfully if this is the place he shared with Dr. Elliott.
I wrinkled my nose and rolled my index finger around in a circle. “Um, did you... uh... you and her...uh... you know,” I stammered.
He laughed. It was a beautiful, comforting sound and suddenly I didn't care if she did set up house here. I felt a huge weight lift off of me and I relaxed.
He understood what I was asking, and answered, “No, baby. This is my brother's old place. He's getting married soon and has already moved in with his fiancée. I moved in here Sunday after Adina and I ended things. The day of our first kiss.”
“You have a brother,” I asked, surprised.
He smiled. “They tell me I have two but one is still questionable. I have a sister, also,” he murmured quietly.
“Okay,” I whispered, amused. “You can open it now.”
He squeezed my hand and kissed my temple.
Marcus opened the door and when I walked in, I felt cool air sweep across me and my eyes went straight to the picture window and that magnificent view just pulled you. I had to get closer to it. Marcus released my hand.
Since it's the fifth floor, your eyes panned down and the view was the bustling expressway and I became transfixed with the moving traffic in the distance on the left side and a few neatly maintained homes and fields of flowers on the right. There was a golden-sanded beach straight ahead and, because it's the Fourth of July, it was packed with people. The water looked as blue and crisp as Marcus' eyes.
“This view... it's beautiful,” I exclaimed breathlessly as I stared at it.
Marcus walked up next to me, on my left. “It is. The viewer more so.”
He cupped my neck and his thumb caressed the elevated pulse at my throat.
“Have I ever told you that you have the prettiest eyes I have ever seen? They're so big and velvet brown, like brandy. I feel drunk when I gaze into them.”
I blushed fire and I put my head down. He tilted my head back up with his thumb.
“Don't. I love looking at your beautiful face.”
I blushed again. “Marcus. Stop. I thought we were going to talk.”
He gazed at me for a moment longer and then shook his head. “Whew. You take my breath away, every time I see you.”
Ooh, fire.
I'd begun to tighten.
He released my neck. I could still feel the heat of his touch and raised my hand to where his was. I realized then he was touching the side with the burn.
And you didn't retreat like you usually do when someone just looks at it.
I didn't. Instead, I cherished his touch.
“Someday, I hope you will tell me how that happened.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Don't you already know, Dr. Alexander?”
“No, Miss Hollander. I don't.”
I thought someone would've told him by now. Should I tell him now or wait? Is this what he wanted to talk about? Oh, what do I do?
“Let's talk about us and where to go from here, in my office.”
I frowned. Why the office? I looked around the room and noticed how huge it was, about the size of a small ballroom, and it was empty.
“My office and bedroom are the only rooms furnished. I am not taking you in there,” he grinned. “Yet.”
‘Yet.’ I love that word.
Marcus took my hand again and we went back into the foyer and paused at the entry door. “Would you like something to drink,” he asked.
I glanced at my watch. Too early for alcohol. “Water, please.”
“Sure? I have wine. Or beer, if you prefer.”
“No, I'm on the migraine medicine. I have four hours to go.”
He nodded. “Right. Okay.”
Off we go again. He pointed to several doors on either side of a long and wide hallway. This place was huge!
“Bedroom. Guest bath. Bedroom. Master bedroom. Master bath. Here’s the dining room. And here's the kitchen,” he murmured, opening a swing door beyond the dining room. “I usually keep this door open but I closed it before I left, letting my housekeeper know I wasn’t home and she could load the groceries in peace.”
Hmm, I thought as I looked around the kitchen, wondering why he had to do that as I got a good look at the room.
That kitchen was built for a master chef. There were rows of white cabinets in many different sizes, and an open-faced cabinet filled with pots, pans, serving pieces and jars of wooden spoons and cooking utensils. A fridge that looked like it was actually two shoved together dominated the entry wall. One side of the fridge had a glass door so you could easily see how well-stocked and neat it was in there. On the side of the fridge, there were several long magnets holding many, many different knives over another open-faced cabinet holding what looked like bakeware.
All the appliances were steel, including a blender, a mixer, toaster, and microwave. There was a massive stove like I'd never seen. There was a wide, black marble counter that was empty except for a huge bowl of fresh vegetables right in the middle of it. At the kitchen side, there are rows of see-through drawers filled with different foods, mostly pastas. On the other side of the counter, were four bar stools.
Over the three-bowled sink, there was a wide bay window filled with potted herbs and a four-tiered basket of three different types of potatoes and onions.
“There's another bedroom and bathroom through here,” he said, pulling out of my kitchen-envy haze. “I use that room for my office.”
I frowned as I looked to where he was pointing then gazed around the kitchen again, wishing I could do something in a kitchen besides eat. Marcus walked to the fridge and pulled out two bottles of water. He turned back to me and froze.
“What, baby?” He frowned. “What’s wrong?”
I continued staring, dumbfounded. I looked back at him, astounded, and finally found my voice.
“Marcus, who cooks in here?”
Marcus smiled and walked toward me. “I do,” he answered quietly, opening one of the bottles.
“You can cook,” I squeaked, taking the opened water from him.
He shrugged. “It's how I relax. Well, that, working out and basketball on the hospital's roof with other doctors and staff.”
“Damn. I burn water,” I muttered then take a drink while wishing I could make something and try it in that beautiful kitchen.
He laughed loudly. “You amaze me,” he said, taking my hand again.
We went into the office. A hunter green, leather, button-puckered couch sat on one wall and an L-shaped oak desk was in the cente
r of the room. Two chairs that matched the couch were placed in front of the desk; another matching chair with wheels sat behind the desk. The walls were a minty green that complimented the furniture well.
To the right of the desk, on the entry wall, there were six steel filing cabinets with greenery on top. There were picture frames on the floor leaning on a cabinet, waiting to be hung. Large potted plants were on either side of the couch, and a coffee table that matched the desk is in front of it. This room is very cozy.
“Have a seat,” he murmured, gesturing toward the couch.
I sat in the middle of the couch. Marcus sat to the left of me.
“Talk to me,” he urged.
I looked down and rolled the water bottle in my palms. “What do you want to know?”
“What don't I want to know?”
“Ask me something. I don't know where to begin.”
“What are you doing for your birthday?”
I looked at him and laughed. “What?”
He smiled. “What are you doing for your birthday?”
I wasn't expecting that question. I put my head down again and shrugged. “I don't know. I haven't thought about it.”
“I'd like to take you out to celebrate,” he said quietly.
Ooh, I’d love that but all I want is him and us alone… with nothing but a damn bed.
Whew, yes, that’ll work.
“Do you even know when it is, Marcus?”
“July fifteenth.”
My heart skipped. He was right. I whispered, “When is yours?”
“July fifth.”
“Tomorrow?” I snapped my head back to him. “Your birthday is tomorrow?”
He smiled and caressed my earlobe. “Yes.”
“Why didn't you say anything?”
He shrugged. “I don't make a big deal about my birthday. Besides, I think I got what I wanted already.”
“That's good. What was it?”
“You.”
I blushed scarlet and smiled. “You have to stop saying those things.”
“I can't.”
I frowned. “Why not?”
“Because I love you.”
Fear crept up, again. I was ready to bolt. I moved to the edge of the couch and set my bottle on the table next to his and stared at it.
Mariah: The M Series: Book Two Page 10