“She scared the crap out of me and I kind of had a meltdown.”
“Yeah. She told me that.” His thick eyebrows pull together.
“I was spaced out and she startled me.” I look into his eyes, into the warm brown flecked with bronze.
“She didn’t mean to do that,” he murmurs.
“Well, I know it wasn’t intentional.” My voice holds a hint of impatience. Geez, I’m a bitch lately. I sigh. “I’m sorry. I get annoyed with myself when shit like that happens.”
“Have you thought about seeing someone for help?”
My spine stiffens. “I don’t need help. I’m fine.”
“Mmm. Okay. But don’t be too hard on yourself. You’re having a reaction to a traumatic event. It’s normal.”
“It’s not normal for me. And I don’t like it.” I pout, knowing I sound like a child and possibly bolstering his suggestion I should seek help.
“Yeah. I know. You get pissed off and frustrated because you can’t control it.”
I meet his eyes again. “Yes.”
The corners of his mouth kick upward and the connection stretches between us like warm taffy. And once again I’m hyperaware of all his bare skin, all his muscles, all the heat radiating off him. I want to snuggle into him and let him hold me again like he did last night, which sadly I do not remember. The impulse to roll and lift a leg to throw it over his hip is powerful.
Marek turns toward me. Thick, liquid desire gathers between my legs. I actually move an inch closer to him, longing to feel his mouth on mine.
He looks at my mouth. His eyelids lower.
My lips part.
An alarm goes off somewhere in the apartment. Marek drops his head back to the pillow. “Fuck.” Then he throws back the covers and surges out of bed. In the dark, I can make out the shadowy shape of his body as he walks to the door. He’s wearing black butt-hugging boxer-briefs that become more visible when he pulls the door open.
I roll to my back and stare at the ceiling. I’m kind of turned on. My core is heavy and I’m tingling everywhere.
Well. That’s bothersome.
It’s a good thing that alarm went off. I don’t give in to my impulses anymore and whew, I almost did there.
He reappears in my doorway with his phone in hand, the alarm silenced. “Sorry,” he says. “We have a practice this morning.”
“You just played last night.”
“Yep.”
“You work hard.”
“That’s why I’m in such amazing shape.”
A smile tugs my lips. “Indeed.”
He smiles too and looks up from his phone. “I’ll be home around one.” He hesitates. “Would you like to go out somewhere?”
“Like… where?”
“I don’t know. Anywhere. Nobody knows you’re here. We could go for a walk along the river.”
I consider that. “Maybe. If I have the energy.”
When I met Marek in Vegas, there was an instant pull of attraction between us. He made no secret of the fact that he was interested. I loved it, because I was, too.
