“I’m trying to do the right thing.” His voice was strained, eyes flicking to the hem of my shirt where it barely covered my thighs then away.
“The right thing feels wrong without you touching me.”
He cursed under his breath, held still for a moment as if fighting himself, and then closed the distance in two strides. Marcus grabbed me by the waist and pinned me against the fridge, mouth slanting over mine in a deep, possessive kiss.
Thank God. He stopped fighting it.
His hands roamed under my shirt, rough palms skating up my sides to cup my bare breasts, thumbs flicking my nipples until they hardened into peaks. I moaned into his mouth, my hands exploring him in return as I traced his hard, defined skin that was toned and honed from years of working construction.
“You drive me fucking insane,” he muttered against my throat, teeth grazing my pulse. “My beautiful Lila. The one thing I shouldn’t want, but do. No one can know.”
I nodded, gasping as he ground his erection against my core through our clothes. “I know. Our secret. Just us.”
He kissed me harder, one hand slipping between my thighs to tease the edge of my panties, fingers brushing my soaked folds but not pushing inside. “Only this,” he growled. “We stop here.”
But he didn’t stop the kiss. Not until we were both breathless, my body humming with unspent need.
Then he pulled back, eyes tormented. “We’re done tonight.”
The fifth day was the same with him gone all day, me packing alone and the house echoing with unspoken tension. That night, he came home earlier than usual. I was in the living room sorting through old photo albums when he walked in.
He paused in the doorway, watching me flip through pictures of us from five years ago when I was eighteen. In one picture, he stood shirtless, working on a home renovation, sweat forever frozen on his hard, big, and muscular body.
The image twisted something in my gut—shame, yes, but also a dark thrill.
He cleared his throat. “Lila.”
I looked up. “Hey,” I said far too breathlessly.
“We need to talk.” His voice was low and conflicted. He crossed the room, sat on the coffee table in front of me, knees brushing mine.
I set the album aside. “Okay.”
He rubbed a hand over his face. “Every time I touch you, I feel like shit afterwards. Like I’ve betrayed something.”
The pain in his eyes made my chest ache. “I hate that you feel that way,” I admitted softly. “The taboo weighs on me, too. What would people say? But the attraction and how I feel about you… it overrides everything. I can’t stop wanting you.”
He reached out and cupped my cheek. “That’s why we have to stop. Before it destroys us.”
I leaned into his touch. “I’m sure you’re right, but I don’t want to stop this,” I whispered.
He hesitated then groaned and pulled me forward. The kiss started soft, almost tender, but heated up fast. His hands roamed my body, tracing my curves like he was memorizing them. I explored him back with my fingers slipping under his shirt to feel the hard planes of his chest.
“My perfect girl,” he murmured against my lips.
The truth was, I didn’t know if I could keep my sanity with this stop and go. My desire for Marcus was driving me fucking crazy, and I was wound so tight with need I could barely think.
He stood, adjusted himself again, and I couldn’t help but stare at the massive bulge pressing against his jeans.
He walked away without another word, and I sat there in the dim light, body buzzing, mind a whirlwind of desire. The attraction sharpened into something addictive. And the guilt? It only fueled the fire.
This raw, hot annoyance filled me. This was the third time he did this, the third time we were hot and passionate, only for him to shut things down and dismiss me. I knew he was handling his guilt and confusion over his feelings for me in different ways, but Marcus was driving me crazy with the way he kept going hot and cold.
I vowed to myself that if he pulled this shit again, I was the one who would shut it down.
Chapter Six
Lila
