by Liz Lincoln
“Almost three hundred miles on one charge,” Marcus said. “Which is part of the appeal. I may not be a science guy, but I appreciate doing something for the planet. Plus, it’s just a really sweet car.” He flashed his grin at her.
Her stomach seesawed. As if she needed another reason to be attracted to him. As far as she was concerned, everyone should be doing everything they could to save the planet. But that didn’t mean most people did. Hell, she didn’t do everything she could.
So it shouldn’t be really hot that he bought a car partly to save the environment. But it was.
How much longer left in the semester? How long must she wait until she could jump him?
“Is this where I turn?” Marcus indicated the street coming up.
Bree nodded. The rest of the short drive was silent except for her directing him toward her house.
He pulled into the driveway, and instead of letting the engine idle and waiting for her to get out, he turned off the car and got out himself. Bree had just removed her seatbelt and was reaching for the door handle when he was around the car and opened it for her.
“Thanks. You move pretty fast for a guy with a knee injury.” She slipped out of the car and let him shut the door for her.
He followed her up the wheelchair ramp at the front of their house. They’d gotten lucky finding a wheelchair-accessible rental. It beat living in one of the high-rise apartment buildings with an elevator, because they had a garage and a yard.
Bree unlocked the front door, then turned back to Marcus, uncertain. She had to work tomorrow, and it was entirely possible he had an early morning as well. The Dragons had Tuesdays off, but she had no idea what his PT schedule was like or when his geology class met. She should give him a smile and a thank you, then head inside and go to bed. It was after ten o’clock.
Instead, she found herself saying, “Would you like to come in for a minute? Get the nickel tour?”
Marcus frowned. “You’re sure?”
Of course she wasn’t sure. Having him in her house added an extra level of temptation. As if she needed another one. But she couldn’t seem to bring herself to say no. “It’s no big deal.” She shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant and not like her stomach was pulsing and her heart pounding. “But I understand if you have an early morning.”
He studied her face for a long moment. As weird as it felt, she couldn’t help but meet his gaze.
Finally he said, “Yeah, I’d like to come in for a few minutes.”
Bree stepped inside, dropped her keys into the bowl next to the front door, tossed her purse onto the couch, and shrugged out of her jacket.
“Here, I got it.” Marcus’ hands covered her shoulders and slid down her arms as he helped her out of the garment.
Bree couldn’t hold back a shiver at his touch. He handed her the jacket, and she hung it up in the closet.
“Marrrowwww.” Diablo wandered into the living room to greet her. He rubbed against her legs, so she bent to scratch his ears.
“Damn, that is a huge cat.”
Bree chuckled. Diablo weighed twenty pounds or more, depending on the time of year. He weighed less in summer when he could go outside and terrorize the small animals of the neighborhood. During winter, he got fat and lazy. He was probably somewhere around twenty-two pounds right now. But since she rarely saw other cats, Bree often forgot how big Diablo was. He was cat-sized to her.
“That’s not very nice. He’s just a big boy. Kind of like you and your teammates.” She gave him a pointed look. “You’re what, six feet three or four?”
“Six-four.” He grinned. “Point taken. What’s his name?”
Bree bent down and picked up the gargantuan cat. Okay, she could admit he was pretty hefty. “Diablo, say hi to Marcus. Don’t you listen to that mean thing he said. You’re perfect.”
Marcus reached over to scratch Diablo’s head, but Diablo gave him a firm swat on the hand. Marcus snatched it back with a chuckle. “So he lives up to his name?”
Diablo made a pitiful sound that could be interpreted as a warning or an answer. But Bree knew it was just because he wanted his late-night meal. She wasn’t about to waste time digging out foul-smelling cat food while Marcus was in her living room. Diablo could wait a few more minutes.
“He certainly does his best,” Bree said, setting the cat back on the floor with one last affectionate scratch. “Would you like the tour? It’s not exactly a big house, but it works for me and Reina.”
Marcus spread his arms to encompass the living room. “Show me around.”
Bree swung her arm to indicate the joined living and dining rooms. “We spend about eighty percent of our time in here. Or, I should say, eighty percent of the time when we’re here and awake. Which is like five percent of the time. Since we both kind of live in our office.”
“Is Reina almost done with her dissertation too?” Marcus asked.
“Yep. She’s got a postdoc set up in Madison, starting in January. She and Tomás are already trying to figure out how he can get a job in Madison, but he still has over a year left on his postdoc here. So they might have to do the long-distance thing for a while. And anytime they start talking about it, they get all weepy and mushy and it’s kinda gross.” She was about to say part of it was because she was jealous, but that might make it awkward between them.
She started toward the dining room area, her high heels clicking on the hardwood floors. “Obviously the dining room.” She gestured to the table full of papers and textbooks, and two laptops. “Or for us, the study. Since we usually eat in the living room.”
“I love this.” Marcus ran his hand over the built-in wood buffet. The doors for the two cabinets had Art Deco–style leaded stained-glass doors.
“Yeah,” Bree said. “It’s pretty classic Milwaukee bungalow style. And it really is gorgeous. Of course, you can see we don’t use it so much to store our fine china as our random collection of beer mugs, wineglasses, novelty plastic drink ware, and booze.”
“Isn’t that what college is all about?” Marcus grinned. “Including grad school, I guess.”
He sure did grin a lot. Which was kind of awesome, given that it really emphasized his smile lines. And that dimple. Which made Bree a little weak in the knees.
Plus, when he smiled that much, she couldn’t help but smile back. According to science, smiling more often can actually put you in a slightly better mood. It was no cure for depression, but it helped her deal with the whole situation with her advisor a little better.
Last Friday, Bryant told Bree he wasn’t convinced the experiment she worked on was PhD-quality research. He wasn’t sure it should count. He’d actually said a DOE-funded project was more appropriate for a high school science fair. Yes, he was likely just being a smoke-blowing ass, and not serious. But what if he was?
Shoving back the memory, Bree took Marcus into the kitchen, which wasn’t much to show. The one nice feature was that it had a specially built island that was at Reina’s height, so she could use a counter.
“So you got the ramp and this island.” Marcus rapped his knuckles on the fake wood counter. “Did you guys have to spend a bunch refurbishing this place?”
“No, we got really lucky. We rent from a guy who inherited the place when his mom died. She was in a wheelchair, so he did all the renovations for her. The bathroom alone had to cost thousands.” Bree opened the door to the basement. “I have to do all the laundry, and if the water heater goes on the fritz, I have to take care of it. But that just means Reina does more of the other chores.”
“That’s cool you guys do that stuff for each other. Jaron’s my best friend, but I don’t think he’d ever wash my underwear for me.”
“Yeah, but that’s because guys are weird about that stuff. Girls aren’t.”
“True enough.”
Her feet were starting to get sore, so Bree reached down and slipped off her heels. She picked them up and let them dangle from her fingers, since she was going to s
how him the bedrooms next. Maybe it was tempting fate to show him her bedroom, but all night she’d felt that buzz of daringness inside her. So dammit, she was going to tempt fate.
When she looked up at Marcus, he was watching her intently. His gaze dropped to the shoes in her hand then came back to hers.
“That the end of the show?” His voice sounded strangled.
Maybe it was not only tempting fate, but cruel to show him her bedroom.
Diablo chose that moment to bump against her ankle and make an annoyed meow, reminding her that he was hungry.
“You’ll get your dinner soon enough,” she told him. To Marcus she said, “Almost done with the tour.”
As she led him into the small hallway that housed the bathroom and two bedrooms, she could feel him behind her. Maybe it was the enclosed space, but suddenly she was so much more aware of him.
“That’s Reina’s room.” She tapped the doorframe to the bedroom with the extrawide doorway. She tossed her hand out in the opposite direction. “Bathroom.”
As she stepped toward her own bedroom, Bree’s blood felt like someone had poured pop rocks into her veins.
Snap, crackle, pop, Rice Krispies!
She crossed the threshold, then turned back to watch Marcus approach. “And this is my room.”
It wasn’t much. She had a double bed with a green and white quilt she’d had since high school, the dresser she had in high school, and next to it a desk she rarely used. It was stacked with old textbooks and random stuff. Her closet door was open, and clothes seemed to spill out of the small space. She tried to keep things neat, but it was hard when she was cramming twelve square feet worth of stuff into a nine-square-foot room.
To distract from the bed, which seemed suddenly prominent, she ran her hand down the side of a framed picture on the wall. It was of a lake at dusk. “I took this in a high school photography class. That’s the only creative endeavor I have any sort of talent in. My mom was so impressed she had it framed.”
“It’s great. I don’t have much of an eye for these things, but it looks professional to me.” Marcus took a step toward her, not quite close enough that he was in her space, but almost. She shouldn’t have, but she took that extra half step toward him, and now they were in each other’s space. Close enough to touch. If they wanted.
Bree wanted.
God, this was a bad idea. But his gaze was heavy, hot, and felt so good.
“Bree,” he said softly. He brushed a loose strand of bright red hair off her face, and instead of removing his hand, he slid it into her hair, cupping the back of her neck.
Without thinking, she stepped even closer, and her hands went to either side of his waist. For a long, electric moment, they watched each other, communicating without words.
And then, as she was about to ask him to kiss her, his face moved closer, and his lips brushed hers.
He was hesitant at first, simply moving his mouth back and forth against hers, soft and gentle and oh so tempting. Just as tentatively, Bree responded. Her fingers curled into his shirt at his sides, and she pressed her mouth against his just a little bit harder.
“Bree,” he whispered. For an instant, his lips stilled on hers, then he groaned and dove deep.
His arm slid around her back, holding her close, and hers did the same to him. She spread her palms, reveling in the feel of his muscles shifting under her hands. He was even more solid than he looked, and the hard feel of him turned her on like crazy.
His tongue slid along the seam of her lips and she opened for him, welcoming him in. Her heart pounded as their tongues tangled. She was dizzy from the power of their kiss. She’d never been kissed like this in her life. Like he would die if he didn’t get another taste. Like she was his air, his food, his water. And she clung to him just as desperately.
It would be so easy to have more. Two steps backward, and she could sit on her bed, pulling him down with her. Which was why she had to stop it now.
She slid her hands between them, and though she’d meant to gently push him away, she got sidetracked by all those muscles. Most of her boyfriends had been other science majors, and even the ones who were in shape weren’t like this. Good Lord, it was sexy.
No, she was stopping this. Focus, Bree.
She slowly drew back from him, pushing slightly against his chest, but not taking her hands away. “Marcus.” She meant it to come out firm, but in her head it sounded more like a plea.
Marcus drew in a long, shaky breath. “Wow.” He exhaled slowly. “That was…something.”
“Yeah,” she agreed breathlessly. “It was probably a bad idea.”
His hand slid out of her hair until he cupped her cheek and could tilt her face up to him. His dark eyes were solemn. “But worth it?”
She smiled faintly. “Absolutely.”
He gave a relieved smile. “Good. I’d hate to think it wasn’t at least worth it.”
Bree forced herself to let go of his shirt—when had she grabbed that?—and step back. “But we can’t do that again. Not until…” Her voice trailed off, leaving until what unspoken. They both knew how the sentence ended.
He stroked his thumb over her lower lip, then shoved both hands deep into his pockets. “I should probably go.”
“Yeah, that’s for the best.”
Bree followed Marcus to her front door, her footsteps no longer tapping. The silence felt heavy without her shoes to fill it.
Marcus opened the front door, then turned back with a smile. It wasn’t quite as brilliant as usual, with a hint of strain around the edges. She understood how he felt.
“See you in class tomorrow.”
Bree’s answering smile felt just as strained. It was so frustrating that two consenting adults couldn’t just indulge themselves. She understood why—everything with Dr. Bryant was so shaky to begin with, she couldn’t do anything to jeopardize her graduation. But at the moment, it felt excessively unfair. “Absolutely.”
They stared at each other, again caught in one of those electric moments they seemed to have in endless supply. Then Marcus’ hands cupped her face. He pressed a kiss to her lips, lingering just long enough to make her whimper and want so much more.
Before she had a chance to respond, he backed onto her porch. “Good night, Bree. Sweet dreams.”
Sweet wasn’t how she would describe the dreams she expected to have that night.
Chapter 9
“Damn, girl. I don’t think I’ve ever had beef stroganoff that good.” Marcus stood from Matt and Celia’s kitchen table, picked up his plate, and reached for Celia’s plate as well.
Celia laughed. “I’ll be sure to mention that in the meal kit delivery service review.”
“Hey,” Matt protested. “You’re not supposed to let out our secret.” He followed Marcus with his own plate.
Marcus stood at the sink to rinse off the dishes and handed them to Matt, who loaded them into the dishwasher.
“You guys don’t have to do that,” Celia said. “I can do it while you work on the cribs.”
“No, you made the food, even if someone else did the prep work for you. And you’re busy building two humans. The least I can do to thank you for dinner is rinse off a few dishes.” Marcus handed the last plate to Matt.
“You’re building two cribs,” Celia said dryly. “I’d say you’re more than paying us back.”
Marcus wiped his hands on a towel. “I’m helping Matt build the cribs.”
Matt and Celia both started laughing.
“Have you ever tried building something with him before?” Celia asked.
A suspicious feeling tugged at the back of Marcus’ neck. “Noooo. Something you forgot to tell me, Baxter?”
Matt clapped him on the shoulder as he walked by. “Nope. Can’t think of anything.”
“Listen, motherfucker.” Marcus followed his friend toward the stairs. “I did not come over to be your handyman.”
Matt grinned at him from the top of the stairs.
“Jaron is worse with power tools than I am. I’ll do what I can, but Cee was adamant I have someone help me so I don’t end up drilling my hand onto something.” He held up his right hand, splaying his fingers wide. “Then where would the Dragons be?”
Marcus glared. Matt laughed harder.
“So because I’m on the bench all season, you think it’s okay to get my hand nailed to a piece of wood?” Marcus grumbled as he headed up the stairs.
“Nah, man, you actually know what the fuck you’re doing with a drill. And you know we need you on the field as much as we need me. Sure, Vince can block, but the kid can’t catch shit. On the plus side, it means Jaron’s having a hell of a season.”
Marcus followed his friend down the hall. Matt led them into a bedroom that had been painted Dragons yellow. The trim around the windows was navy blue.
“Not even born, and you’re already making these kids into football fans, huh?” Marcus teased.
“Believe it or not, the color scheme was Celia’s choice.”
The only furniture in the room was a white cube shelf with baskets in each cube, pushed under the window, and a rocking chair next to it. Along one wall stood two long, thin boxes with a drawing of a crib on the side. Their project for the evening. A toolbox and a cordless drill lay on the floor in the center of the room.
“Seriously, I suck at building shit.”
As his friend went on, Marcus slid one of the boxes away from the wall and started ripping open the cardboard.
“If I had it my way, I’d have bought something that I could get assembled here or that came preassembled. But these just showed up, a gift from Celia’s dad and stepmom.”
“That my stepmom bought us cribs and sent them to the house without even asking us what we wanted tells you everything you need to know about her,” Celia said from the doorway. “She’s furious the wedding is next week because now she can’t go to some club meeting she has. She actually tried to hire a judge to do it in the evening when it would be more convenient for her. Our wedding. And she didn’t tell me until after she couldn’t make it work. Do you know how frustrating that is?” Her normally pale cheeks were blotchy red.