He cocks his eyebrow.
“Okay, I’ll look.” The handles branch outwards—the bag is filled with many items. A hairbrush, travel nail kit, toothbrush and paste, hair ties, and a few different hair fasteners. There are two bottles of deodorant and a box that must house some sort of perfume. A makeup pallet and lipstick fall under my rifling fingers.
“Cherry Blossom?” I ask after reading the colour name.
“Yes, it will look good on you.”
“Makeup expert?”
“Yes.”
I smile. “Okay.” Placing it back in the bag, I have no clue of the actual colour of cherry blossom. However, I assume it to be a shade of pink. As the lipstick drops, I spy a packet of tampons. “You bought me tampons!” I shriek in embarrassment.
He grins, displaying zero humiliation on his part. “Just in case.”
“I’m blushing, aren’t I?”
His grin turns into a smile. “That you are, Miss McMillian. That you are.”
***
“Abigail, we’re here. Wake up,” Marcus says softly.
“Huh? What?”
“We’re here. You fell asleep.”
“I did?” I’m greeted by eyes that promise tomorrow will be even better than today and every day after will top the one before. These are eyes I need to stay clear of. “What hotel are we staying at?” I ask, wiping drool from my cheek.
“We’re not staying at a hotel. Come on, it’s rather late.”
“Can I smell Chinese food?” I say, dazed.
“Yes, I bought some on the way. Are you hungry?”
“Famished.”
“Good.”
Grady opens the car door from the outside. I gaze past him and find myself completely overcome by the large pond—with a big statue—residing in front of a three-storey manor. Pixie lights shine from treetops and the glow is mesmerising. This place is gigantic and whimsical … it’s a dream.
“Do you own this house, Marcus?” I stare at him.
Warmth fills my fingers as he wraps his hand within mine. “No, I don’t.” His tone is subdued.
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Does anyone know we are staying here?”
He nods. “Of course. Why do you insist I’m a law breaker? Is it because I told you about my night in the lock-up? It is, isn’t it?” His eyes sparkle under the lights. “The property belongs to Mr Sims. I always stay here when in town.”
“So I’m staying here with you?”
“Yes.”
“Just the two of us?”
“Well, no, there are people who maintain the property, and they come and go. Mr and Mrs Frost live here in a quarters at the rear. They’re lovely, and you’ll meet them. Grady will also be staying.” Marcus eyes me cautiously. “What’s wrong, Abigail?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re biting that damn lip of yours again.”
“I am?”
“Yes.” His throat goes hoarse on the word.
“Sorry.” I release it from between my teeth. “My carry-on and my shopping,” I say on exiting the car.
“Grady will bring them in. Come,” he says as we walk to the front door. “The code is five, four, seven, and three, to turn the alarm off. Grady or I should be with you most times, but if not, that’s the number you’ll need to remember.”
“Okay.” I’ll remember. God, I hope I will. Five, four, seven, and three, I repeat over and over in my mind.
Marcus punches in the code, pushes one side of the double doors open, and releases his grasp on my hand. He reaches out his arm then flicks what sounds like many switches. I blink from the invasion of lights.
“Martha, Adam? It’s Marcus.” There’s no reply. “They must have turned in for the night. You’ll meet them in the morning. That’s the Frosts I was telling you about.”
I nod.
“I’ll be back.” He says, walking away from me before disappearing down a hallway.
I stand there gawking at the many fine furnishings and the open space this house offers. It’s exquisite and formal—so fancy. I’ve never been in a place like this. A broad staircase made out of dark wood is like one you’d only see in the movies. It leads to a second level and is very grand.
Marcus reappears, shirtless, with his jeans hanging low on his hips … his jeans look soaked through. Holy shit. My thighs press together at the sight.
“The sprinklers were on.” He smiles with a youthful innocence.
“What sprinklers? They have sprinklers inside?”
He chuckles. “Of course not.”
“Oh.” He went outside. When? Why? I don’t ask. I stand staring at him in all his gloriousness.
His dark hair glistens with beads of water before his fingers brush them away, messing the strands. “I’m going to shower. Grady will have dinner plated in about ten minutes.”
“Where will I sleep and get freshened up?”
“This way.” He points before walking bow-legged towards the staircase.
I’m finding it hard not to moan at the sight of his smooth hairless back and his shirt hanging from the back pocket of his pants. I close my eyes.
“Fuck!” I yell as my body lands in a heap on the polished wood floor.
“Are you okay?” He stifles a laugh, lifting me from the ground with ease.
My chest now presses against his wet chest, and my breasts heave as I stare into his eyes. “I tripped.”
“The curse,” he whispers.
“I think so.” I don’t tell him I was walking with my eyes closed, and as I pull myself away, he slides his fingers between mine.
“I better hold on to you. Air is dangerous when you’re near.”
“Apparently so.” We slowly take each step up the stairs. I believe he’s worried I’ll trip down them, or he will … I giggle.
“Something amusing?”
“No.”
Turning left at the top of the staircase, we’re met by plush carpeting. At the end of the hallway we stop at a door. He turns the crystal doorknob.
“You’ll be staying in this room.” As he flicks a switch, light quickly fills the space.
“Wow. It’s beautiful.” My mouth drops open. “This room—” I’m not sure how to explain it. It’s like it’s been stolen from an olden-day movie. There’s a large timber bed sitting against the back wall with a slatted bedhead, four posts, and netting over the top. Cupboards with handcrafted feet on the bottom and delicate sculptured woodwork panels reside along an adjacent wall. A dresser with a heart-shaped mirror makes me smile. It’s so 1800s and completely out of this world.
“They kept the property similar to its original state when it was renovated.
“Back in the dinosaur ages.” I laugh.
“You could say that. It’s very old.”
“Where do you sleep?” I ask before thinking.
“Down the other end of the hall.”
“Bet your room is not as fancy as this, now, is it?”
“Fit for a king,” he replies with a cocky grin.
I’m about to say let me see, but just before I do, I clench my lips shut to avoid an awkward sexually fuelled moment. Well, sexually fuelled moment for me, there’s something very alluring about Marcus.