He barked out a laugh. “What kind of scumbag do you take me for? I’ll have you know I’mverywell kempt.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
The light from his porch was just up ahead.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I didn’t even have the foresight to shove a few condoms in my pocket. I’d left them back at my own cabin, shoved into the back corner of my sock drawer, never to be looked at again. Rolling up on the bonfire after Marlow had requested my presence was... impulsive.
And coming up upon him with thatcouplewas fucking maddening. To the point where I almost grabbed his beer out of his hand and tossed it at her the second she slipped her nail-polished hand on his thigh.
Actually, I was being ridiculous. In hindsight, I was stupid to give in and see him so soon after the golf cart incident. And so soon after I’d gotten a grip of myself and actually given in and rubbed one out before I’d gone back to work.
Had it helped stave off the burning in my veins?
Well, up until I saw Marlow again, I thought it had. Clearly, that was fucking delusional.
Warm light spilled out from the door’s window, colliding with the stark white of the porch light that had my head spinning.
Or maybe that was from Marlow’s hand on my arm?
“You eat at all?” He grabbed the knob of the door, unlocked of course, and shoved it inward.
Did I?
I couldn’t remember. My brain was failing to connect the synapses and form a coherent thought outside ofMarlow is touching merepeating over and over in my head.
How in the world did people deal with sexual attraction like this?
I’d had the subtle hints of it every so often since I was sixteen; small whispers that alluded to something bigger and better inthe future that never quite seemed to come, no matter who I took to bed. I’d tried the docile partners, the rough partners, the in-between-ers.
Nothing ever satiated that part of me that wantedsomethingmore.
I always knew there was something wrong with me and had yet to be confronted by it with my stark avoidance of making anything official with anyone. That was the trick to keeping your secrets. If you always kept people at arm’s length, they didn’t get the privilege of knowing your deep, dark insecurities.
Marlow shoved me through the doorway, a snicker following along with shutting and locking the door behind us.
I tried to not let the sound of the deadbolt sliding into the jam send my stomach into doing somersaults, and instead, pretended it was my body’s way of screaming at me for forgetting to eat both lunchanddinner.
The place was still immaculately kept and looked barely lived in. There were two dishes drying on the rack next to the sink, a single coffee cup placed next to that facing upright, and a fork and knife in the cutlery slot. The couch had only a subtle impression of a body rippled into the surface of it, and past that, there was only one door open to a bedroom, the inside of it dark.
Interesting.
I had a feeling Marlow had a thing for control, seeing as he worked in finance. That bled into his dwelling, apparently. Everything was neat and organized with the only things moved thatneededto be moved and nothing more.
An art to the practicality that I could appreciate.
A wave of pressure came up from behind me, hovering right out of my peripheral. It had me freezing, holding my breath to wait for it to pass.
It didn’t. It stayed right there, close behind me.
“You sure are chatty today,” Marlow murmured.
“Is that a joke?”
He snickered again. “Nope. Your thoughts are written all over your face, Blake.”
