'Til Death: Volume One
Page 19

“Like?” I prompt.
He shakes his head, standing. He walks over, dropping his bowl in the sink. Then he makes his way towards me. His hand lashes out, curling around the back of my neck where he pulls me close and brushes his lips against mine. My heart aches, and I know how weak he makes me from that single touch.
“I didn’t put onion in,” he murmurs, stepping back. “I know you don’t like it.”
With that, he disappears down the hall.
My heart bursts with love.
He paid attention. I only told him once I didn’t like onion, and it was right back at the start.
Maybe Mom is right; maybe he just needs time.
CHAPTER 12
THEN
Katia
“Oh my God,” I moan, closing my eyes and licking my fingers—yes, licking them.
When I open my eyes, Marcus is watching me with that melty chocolate, sex stare again. Damn. I bite my bottom lip and look away. I just had a food-gasm over the pasta we got served at this amazing Italian restaurant and he watched, fascinated¸ like I am the first woman he’s seen in his life and he’s just discovered he has a penis.
“It’s good, yeah?” he says, reaching over the table and swiping his finger over my bottom lip. He returns it with a dollop of sauce and slowly, seductively, slides it into his mouth.
Man.
This guy is to die for.
“Yeah,” I whisper, watching his lips curl around his finger as he sucks the sauce off.
Yum.
“Tell me something about yourself, Katia,” he says, his voice husky.
“I’m pretty sure you know most of it.”
I force my eyes away from his face, his lips, just him in general because he almost hurts to look at. He’s so striking.
“Then tell me something I don’t know. Do you have siblings?”
My eyes flash to his and he must see the pain in my face because he narrows his eyes.
“No,” I whisper.
He studies me, then murmurs, “That hurts you.”
I shrug and stare down at my food. His hand comes across the table and he grips my chin, tilting it up. “Katia.”
“Tell me something about yourself,” I say, jerking my head out of his grip and forcing a fake smile to my face.
He narrows his eyes, but doesn’t push it. He sits back in his chair, watching me as he speaks. “No siblings; well, direct, anyway. I have step-siblings. My father is dead. My mother is dead. My grandfather just died.”
Jesus.
“I’m sorry, Marcus.”
He shrugs. “Life happens, Katia.”
“What about your step-siblings? Are you close?”
He shakes his head. “No. My father married their mother long after mine died. I never liked them and they never liked me. I’m not sad. They’re selfish, spoiled and are never going to make a life for themselves.”
God, he’s so . . . bitter.
“So you have no family left?”
“There are some, cousins and such. None that are close.”
Poor man. I’d die if something happened to my mother.
“And your job. You love that, obviously?”
He tilts his head to the side. “Yeah, Katia, I love it.”
That way he said that . . . strange.
“Do you run it?”
“Yes.”
I nod.
“Come here.”
I blink, then stammer, “What?”
“Come here.”
My cheeks heat as he crooks a finger at me. My body, the little traitor, obeys and I stand, walking over. He pulls me down beside him and I become fully aware of every inch of him. God. His hand finds my thigh and he turns me towards him, dropping his face until it’s right near mine.
“I won’t pull any punches here. I’m going to come right out and say I’m interested. I don’t play games. I don’t chase. I get what I want, and what I want is you.”
Oh God.
“You don’t know me,” I whisper.
He lifts a finger, running it down my cheek. My body shudders. “I know enough.”
“Enough for what?”
“For me to know I want you in my bed more than once.”
I shake my head, breaking eye contact. “I can’t, I . . . can’t. Men like you . . . I just can’t.”
“Tell me why,” he growls, dipping his face into my neck and pressing his lips there. My eyes flutter closed, and damn, if I don’t want to just give in and melt into him.
“Because my mom . . . she needs me around a lot. I don’t have time.”
“Your mom will be fine,” he murmurs against my skin. “I’ll make sure of it.”
“I work a lot,” I protest breathily. “I can’t find the space in my life to date.”
“You come to my house after work, or I’ll come to yours. Simple.”
“Marcus,” I moan, when he slides his tongue up my neck and his hand disappears under my dress, grazing my panties.
“Soaked,” he rasps. “Fucking sweet.”
“Marcus, please,” I beg weakly.
He slips his fingers beneath my panties and begins stroking. Holy shit. My fingers curl around his bicep and I try to push him back, but I’m as successful as I would be if Marcus were a brick wall. He doesn’t budge. He keeps nuzzling my neck, causing my skin to tingle, while his fingers stroke my pussy.
“Your pussy is wet, Katia. I assure you,” he growls into my ear. “While you’re with me, it’ll stay that way.”