“Boys are disgusting creatures, Mom.” She let me guide her toward the stairs. “Why don’t you go down and have a seat while I put a shirt on.”
“All right, darling. And you’ll come tell me about the hearing.”
“You bet. Just give me one second.”
“And to think,” she said, “I thought you had a secret girlfriend.”
She smiled as I turned, and I thought I caught a shift of that smile into one of shrewd understanding as she cast a glance beyond me toward my room.
But there was zero time to wonder about that as I flew into my room and shut my door behind me, opening the closet. Maisie clutched her shirt to her chest, her lips pursed and eyes wide. She smiled when she saw me, stifling a laugh with her hand.
“Full of porn, huh?” she whispered.
I pulled her out of the closet and into my arms, pressing my lips to her ear. “Wait until she’s gone, and I’ll prove I wasn’t lying.”
She shook with silent laughter, pressing a kiss to my neck.
And I pulled on my shirt and buttoned it, leaving it untucked. As I left my room again, I closed the door behind me with a singular objective.
To get my mother the hell out of here so I could make good on that promise.
19
Promises, Promises
MAISIE
I didn’t know how long I’d been waiting for Marcus—not too long, but far too long for my liking.
I hadn’t wandered around his room like I’d wanted to, instead tiptoeing to the bed to ease in gently, worried I’d make a sound and alert his mother. I’d slid beneath his soft, fluffy comforter, not bothering with my shirt, ridding myself of my skirt to save us both the trouble. I would have taken it all off if I hadn’t been afraid of her busting in like an amateur detective.
The last way I wanted Mrs. Bennet to meet me was with my nipples on display.
My phone was downstairs with my bag, and I hoped he’d hidden it somehow—his house was too tidy to lose things in a mess. As such, I had nothing to do except sit there in Marcus’s big bed and think.
I thought about the hearing and the sheer terror that we’d been found out by my mother. I thought about what it would be like to dissociate from her, from my life, wondering if it’d feel like losing a limb or removing a tumor. I thought about how the only joys in my life were the ones my mother opposed to and how desperate I was to escape the misery she’d shackled me with.
But then I thought of Marcus, overshadowing every offense in my life with nothing more than his presence.
The suffering on his face when he’d asked me what I wanted to do, as if he expected me to call it off. The hours and hours I’d spent here in the haven of his arms. The longing to spend all of my time here. With him.
I thought about the way he’d looked at me in that moment when we were daydreaming of a future—our future. That look was a mirror of my heart, reflecting love back at me like a blinding streak of sunshine.
In the short time that I’d known him, I’d learned many very important things about the stoic Marcus Bennet. The first was that he wasn’t as stoic as he seemed—when he let his guard down, he was anything but. My Marcus was playful and light in that quiet way of his. When he spoke, his words were exact. And you could take them to the bank.
He fulfilled his promises with a loyalty I’d never witnessed. And I realized with a desperate desire I wanted one of those promises for myself.
I’d meant what I’d said—my future was a shiny, terrifying thing, a glimmer of change on the horizon. When all this was over and I walked toward that future, I’d leave everything else behind. And though I hadn’t realized just how deeply I felt it until I uttered the words, I found more peace in that future than the one my mother had planned for me.
I sighed, leaning back into the luxurious pillows. And with a smile on my face, I closed my eyes and daydreamed about that future with the wish burning hot in my chest.
The bed dipped, snapping me out of the actual dream and the unknowing sleep I’d slipped into.
Marcus chuckled when I bolted up, stretching out next to me. “Have a nice nap?”
“Good God, you scared the shit out of me.” This was evidenced by the thud of my heart under my palm.
“I should have let you sleep, but I’m a selfish bastard—I had to kiss you.” Leaning in, he did just that. “You were too beautiful, lying here asleep with a smile on your face like a Disney princess.”
I laughed, lying back down on my side to face him. “How’d it go with your mother?”
“Fine, but she’s definitely onto me. She knows there’s someone, but she doesn’t know who. Laney and Jett don’t know yet, and I think Dad’s still in the dark too. I can’t believe Luke kept his mouth shut. Probably helps he’s living with Tess and not at home. He’s a worse gossip than Mom.”
“We should tell her,” I suggested.
He frowned. “You think?”
“I don’t want her to find out some other way. Like with me naked in your bed.”
He scooted closer, cupping my hip and eyeing my lips. “Remind me next time to bolt the door.”
“I’m serious,” I said on a laugh, which made me sound not very serious. “I also don’t want her to find out from my mother.”
At that, we sobered.
“I don’t either.” He paused. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”
“Absolutely not. But I’m absolutely certain about you.”
I was rewarded for the admission with a searing kiss, one that went on until I was pinned beneath him and his fingers were tangled in my hair.
He looked down at me with smoldering eyes. “All right. We’ll tell her, but we need a plan.”
“A plan?” I teased.
“Fine, a few plans. But I’m not sure when we should do it. We’re being careful, remember? If your mother finds out …”
Neither of us needed to finish that thought. We all knew her finding out in the middle of the lawsuit would throw a block of C-4 in the dumpster fire that was this whole ordeal.
“I hate this,” I muttered, fiddling with his buttons.
He pressed a kiss to my forehead, smoothing my hair. “I know. But it’s just for a little while.”
“A blip.”
“A blip. And then it’s you and me.”
I sighed, angling so I could see his face. The strong line of his jaw, chiseled from stone. The angle and bow of his top lip, the lush swell of the bottom. The Roman nose and the blue of his eyes, the iris azure, shot in the center with silver and ringed in navy.
How ever did a man like him exist? He was the picture of dependability, the one you could always count on. He was truth speaker and protector—under his sleek exterior lived a lion, defending what he loved and what was his to the death.
And somehow I was his, and he was mine.
The thought was wiped away with a kiss and a shift of his hips, barred from close contact by the comforter. He realized it when I did and rose to draw it back, the cold air kissing my bare thighs and arms.
His eyes roamed my body as he unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it behind him. I lay there on display, unmoving as he admired me. The precise faithfulness of his gaze made me feel precious, like a delicate treasure, a prized painting, perfect and cherished. That look made me feel beautiful, desired, and gladly, I let him mark every inch of me with praise I didn’t know I’d ever feel worthy of.