Текст книги "If You Dare"

Автор книги: Jessica Lemmon

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 12 страниц)

Chapter Fifteen

So, this wasn’t like her. Usually.

She’d tried to be practical, tried to resist him. As she’d watched Marcus from across the room, Lily decided, To hell with it.

She wasn’t drunk, but the champagne she’d sipped had made her feel loose and carefree, and the idea of stealing a kiss from Marcus to tide her over—if they ever got to leave the Camerons’ house—had cemented in her mind.

Then in the dark of the pantry, things had gotten a little out of hand. It was the dark. The perceived danger, the adrenaline spike…

It was Willow Mansion. Only without the cockroaches and smashing sounds.

She flicked a glance at her rearview mirror. It wasn’t just the mansion, but the man following behind her. Something about Marcus sent her brain packing. Clearly, since she’d taken him into her mouth in the pantry of her best friend’s house.

“God. I’m a hussy,” she said to herself.

Unfortunately, or fortunately—too soon to tell—she didn’t have any more time to think, since she only lived seven minutes from Joanie and Clive’s house. Marcus pulled his sparkling white car to the curb behind hers.

Lily. Finally. Out of my dreams.

She watched him get out, took in his easy swagger as he approached her car. Something told her she’d gotten in way too deep way too fast.

“If you think I followed you here,” he said as she swung her car door open, “to get you to finish what you started…”

“Marcus,” she hissed. Her neighbors were too elderly to hear much, but still.

“You’re right.” He grinned and her eyes went to the dimple denting his face.

He was so hot.

“Eventually. I have plans for you first,” he said, taking her hand and lacing their fingers. Such an intimate move without being intimate. It was something she’d done with her boyfriends since junior high. So why, when Marcus took her hand, did she melt into his side?

Because he’s warm and big and strong… And because she liked him way too much.

“Why do I think you’re turning something over in your head you aren’t sharing?”

Because I am.

“Joanie and Clive…”

“We’ll smooth it over,” he said.

She let him end the conversation. She didn’t want to talk or think about it. She wedged the key into her door. Her townhouse was a double, two-story brick and old like the house they’d just come from, with a red-orange brick porch and square concrete pillars holding the overhang. Her right-next-door neighbor, Phyllis, had been in bed since eight o’clock, no doubt, but her large, scrappy yellow tomcat, Harvey, leaped to the dividing wall between their porches and let out a sickly Meower!

“Good Lord,” Marcus said, hitching an eyebrow.

“Harvey, meet Marcus. Marcus, my neighbor’s cat, Harvey.”

“Meower!”

“Is he…sick?” He scratched the cat’s head and Harvey leaned into his palm and made the sickly noise again, followed by a sputtering purr.

“He’s not. He just has a speech impediment.”

She pushed her front door open, aware of Marcus following her inside, very closely, then shutting the door behind him. “Well, this is my place.”

But any nickel tour or offer of a nightcap was cut off when he turned her with his hands and laid his lips on hers. And oh, he tasted good. He’d tasted good down there, too, all manly and clean, and his tongue tasted…wow. Incredible.

He explored her mouth as he slipped her purse off her shoulder and dropped it on the floor. She reached out and tossed her keys onto the entertainment stand, which held a modest television, a fish bowl—where she saw Bubbles flicking around animatedly—and her stereo system.

“One second.” She tore her mouth from Marcus’s, tapped a few flakes into the bowl, and then came back to her date, looping her arms around his neck.

“You really have a fish,” he said, running those wide palms down over her shoulders and ribs, and then back up, where he swept them over her breasts. “I thought you were just saying that.”

“Nope. I am with fish.”

He lit her up with another kiss, squeezing her breasts gently and then lowering his palms to her backside and squeezing there, too. His eyes were closed, those long, dark lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks. Stubble scraped her sensitive skin as he slanted his mouth and deepened their kiss. She allowed her eyes to sink closed, too, gradually losing sense of time and space, and the ability to stand. When her knees went gooey, and she moaned against his lips, she felt him smile.

“Bedroom,” he said, low and growly.

“Upstairs.” Her voice was not growly. It was breathy and quiet and sounded more like a wheeze. What had this man done to her?

He took her hand again and dragged—yes, dragged—her up the stairs, his long legs taking two at a time while she raced to keep up. The closer they drew to her room, the heavier her feet became. He pointed at one of the two bedroom doors, both closed. “This one?”

“That one,” she said, pointing to the end of the hall.

His eyebrows lowered. “You okay?”

She nodded. “I guess. Just…a little nervous.”

“Don’t be.” He hugged her close, kissing her as he subtly moved closer to her bedroom. “We’ve done this before.”

She smiled. They had. “We were pretty good at it…I think. Unless it was just the mansion.”

“Told you we could go back, and I’d prove to you it wasn’t just the mansion.” He popped open her door. “Though I think we can prove it just as well in here.”

He lowered his lips to hers, his fingers gripping the tab of the plastic zipper at the back of her skirt, sliding it down and reaching beneath the material. “Lace,” he commented, squeezing her butt. “Tell me they’re red.”

She smiled against his mouth, fear receding into something much more welcome: lust. “They’re black.”

“Acceptable,” he murmured against her mouth, before kissing her deeply again.

His hands went to her blouse next, those big fingers clumsily working the delicate pearl buttons. He fumbled through a few before he said, “I’ll buy you a new one,” then tore the shirt open.

Since she had carpet, there was no rolling of buttons to be heard. Pity. Marcus had just fulfilled a fantasy of hers. She’d always wanted someone to rip her shirt off.

He cupped her breasts and smashed them together, burying his face in her cleavage. Then he licked between them before darting along the edge of her bra. He grazed a nipple and her hands moved to his head, her fingers crushing his hair. He didn’t seem to mind, repeating the move on the other breast while she squirmed. Her hips wiggled urgently.

“Impatient.” But he didn’t torture her further, fisting the sides of her skirt and yanking it down. A guttural sound of appreciation echoed in his throat before he pressed his face against her lace panties and tugged with his teeth. Then those were gone, too, snatched away and sliding south. Her bedroom lamp was on—she always left it on as a safety precaution when she was out after dark—so she could see everything he was doing.

And what he was doing was…staring. Watching the apex of her thighs while untangling the scrap of material from her ankles. He slipped her shoes away as well, getting her good and naked, save for the bra still hiding her breasts.

From his knees he looked up at her, dark brown eyes filled with a hazy brand of passion that made her shiver all over. “You’re bare.”

She was.

The first time he’d undressed her she’d made an excuse for not being prepared for “company” and while he’d had no problem with the triangle of smooth, reddish curls he’d found, Lily wanted to surprise him in case there was a next time. “Do you like it?”

“More than like, sweetheart.” Roughened palms slid up her thighs and over her hips. He parted her, lowered his face, and slicked his tongue along her center.

Oh. Oh, yes. Yes, yes, yes.

“Way more than like,” he mumbled against her.

Her head dropped back on her neck. How long had it been since she’d had a man’s face between her thighs? Too long. Too, too long. And really, it was because she didn’t let just anyone down there. This took a lot of trust and—

“Marcus.” Her hands were in his hair, guiding his head back and forth as his tongue assaulted her. She lost his mouth, and a petulant grunt came from her next. Finally, she let a guy down there, and he had no desire to stay. Bummer.

But she’d misread him, clearly, because then he said, “On the bed. What I have planned for you will render you unable to stand.”

Her eyebrows lifted as he rose to his full height over her. “What…what do you have planned?”

“About an hour of that. I’m good at it.” He ducked his head and kissed her lips, and she tasted herself on his mouth.

She’d just bet.

“I’ll have you writhing,” he said, tugging her nipples. “Soaked.” He tugged again and licked his tongue over her lips. “Begging me to stop.”

“Wanna bet?” she breathed, trying to joke to find her footing in this moment.

“You’ll lose.”

She grinned. “And win.”

“We’ll all win.” He slapped her ass, just a quick sting of a touch, and pointed to her bed.

Her nipples hardened when she thought of what was coming soon to a bedspread near her, and Lily crawled onto the bed and lay flat on her back.

…

Marcus wasn’t lying when he said he was good at this.

He knew what women liked, and even though he and Lily had been together one time—if he didn’t count the pantry—he was pretty sure he knew what she liked.

He unbuttoned his shirt, flattered when she watched hungrily as he bared his chest to her. He felt the small smile inching across his mouth but buried it, not wanting to take her out of the moment. Still. Her attention made him puff with male pride.

He shed his pants, shoes, and socks, leaving his boxer briefs, slightly damp from her exploration earlier.

“I didn’t get to finish what I started in the pantry,” she said quietly.

His dick jerked to attention. Down, boy.

“Would you like to?” he asked.

“Yes, please.” She nodded eagerly.

Damn. He liked that.

“We’ll arrange for that. But first…” He put his knee on the bed and dipped his chin. “Spread your legs.”

She smiled, the fire in her eyes matching the strawberry in her hair. Obediently, she spread her legs.

“Beautiful.” His voice was a comical mixture of rumbling and reverent. Eyes glued to the recently bared part of her, he made room between her thighs with his shoulders. Parting her folds, he held her open and slicked his tongue along her slowly.

She bucked against his face.

Sensitive, too. Oh, this was going to be fun.

He glanced up at her, licking her again. She had thrown her hands out and fisted the sheets. So he continued. And was rewarded for his efforts by a thrusting, moaning woman whose cheeks and chest flushed when she came.

And came again.

“Please, Marcus,” she panted, clamping her thighs over his ears. He pulled her legs apart and increased the pressure against her clit. “I can’t.” Her protest was a shout as she tried unsuccessfully to squirm away. “Please! No more, no… oh! Oh! Marcus!”

He didn’t let up, holding her legs and feeling her pulse against his tongue. Her screaming faded into mewls which faded into what sounded like a soft sob. And this time she’d said his name without any prompting at all. It was a great gift.

He let her go, her legs falling open as he leaned over her at the top of the bed. He lifted the very limp arm she’d thrown over her face and dropped it to the side. He smoothed her hair—gone curly, since her temples were damp with sweat—away from her forehead.

“Told you you’d beg,” he reminded her.

“Hmm,” she hummed, satisfied. He could see the satisfied. Her eyes opened lazily, blinking even more lazily. “Wow.”

His grin was genuine. And yes, cocky. He couldn’t help it. Seeing her this pleased, he felt like he’d won some sort of kinky lottery.

One of her hands slipped over his boxer briefs and squeezed. He was hard, getting harder now that she was touching him. “I’m doing you next.”

“No. You’re not.” He dipped his head in reference to the part of her he was just enjoying. “I want in there.”

A laugh sounded in her throat, also making him feel proud. “You have a way with words, Black.”

“I have a way with you, McIntire.” He lowered over her, kissing her, running his tongue along the tip of hers. “You are powerless beneath me.”

Her eyes flared with heat, this time directed at him, and not what he was doing to her. He wanted that—wanted her seeing him as he was, not who she’d mistakenly assumed him to be. He may have been playing the field for a while, but if Lily was game, she was the only field he had any interest in. The realization scared the hell out of him, but there it was.

“Condom,” she said.

“Like it when you’re impatient.” He left her briefly to fish a foil packet out of his pants pocket. He may have happened to buy a box and tuck it under the passenger seat of his car. And he may have torn off three of them and stuffed them into his pocket when he pulled up behind her at her house.

He rolled off his boxers and rolled on the condom before climbing up her sweet body, positioning himself, and sinking deep. Throwing her head back, she screamed again. Loud.

“God, you’re sensitive,” he told her.

She moaned.

He thrust his hips forward, going deeper, and was rewarded with another moan, accompanied by her fingernails clawing down his back. He continued pumping into her as she held on, legs wide, arms tightening around his back, and soon she was coming again, her inner muscles clamping down on him and causing him to wedge his teeth together.

Clasping his face between her palms, she watched him, eyes open, lips parted, expelling breath after breath of ecstasy.

“You,” she said. “You.” Before he became flattered, she looked almost angry when she growled, “Come. I’m dying.”

He was buried in her to the hilt, and he’d been moving at a fast clip, but he could feel her pulsing.

Her anger faded from her face, and again she requested, “Please.”

He uttered a small laugh and kissed her lips. “Okay, but only because you asked nice.” Then he started again, torturing her—and himself. A few minutes in, and damned if she didn’t go off again, milking his orgasm from him.

After a few more involuntary thrusts, he collapsed on top of her, smashing her into the covers with half his body. He was still inside her, balls pounding, head swimming, as her hands stroked his back.

“Black,” she whispered, kissing his face.

“Mmm,” he said, eyes still shut.

“Thank you.” She sounded so grateful, he couldn’t stop himself.

He laughed.

…

Marcus’s wide shoulders shook and Lily felt her smile widen.

Had she ever had this much fun in bed? Then she thought of the half-dozen orgasms she’d had under this man’s ministrations and decided that no, she had not ever, ever had this much fun in bed.

Refreshing, really. He looked refreshed, too. She liked that she’d made him feel as good as she did.

“You always this responsive?” he asked, jolting her out of her bliss.

“Meaning?” she asked.

His hand found her breast. “Meaning, are you always this easy to please?”

She slapped his arm halfheartedly. He chuckled again.

“I’m not answering that question,” she said. “You just want to know if I’m reacting this way only with you.”

Something serious crossed his face as his thumb stroked over her nipple. “Was it me?”

Yes.

She didn’t say it, but she didn’t have to. He grinned and nuzzled her nose with his. “Yeah. It was me.”

“You know, you do not have ego problems.”

“I have another problem.” He shifted his hips. “Don’t want to leave.”

She froze, wondering if he meant her body or her bed.

A second later, he disconnected from her so slowly, he took her next breath with him.

“Damn,” he said, pegging her with a sexy smile. Then he was up, standing at the side of her bed. “I assume your bathroom is at the end of the hall.”

“The room with the toilet in it,” she called as he walked away from her. She watched his athletic butt and bit her lip.

“Ha-ha,” came his response, just before the door shut behind him.

Now what?

Should she ask him to stay? True, she’d slept over at his house last weekend, but then, she’d been thoroughly exhausted from an evening of spent adrenaline. She sensed tonight would be different. There wasn’t anything otherworldly between them. And maybe that was the problem. There was no distraction here in her safe, quiet little townhome, and that meant if she asked him to stay and he did…they’d be bare.

She tugged the sheet over her body, thinking they’d been pretty bare all-around a few minutes ago. Why did she care? She’d like to spin herself a tale of her ex and the way she’d been betrayed, but she and Marcus were beyond that, and she knew it. Plus, after they’d tumbled out of the Cameron pantry looking so guilty, she was pretty sure her friends could guess what was up. That left the only other reason she didn’t want Marcus to stay.

Because she was scared to try again and get burned. Especially to go all in with a guy she worked with, because if they broke up and she still had to see him forty hours a week, that would be…ugly.

Unless… things worked out?

That thought sent a blaze of hope into her bloodstream, made her fast forward her future and see the epic possibilities of family, of children, of…everything. And she didn’t want everything. She couldn’t handle everything. She could handle the sex. She could even handle fudging their story for the sake of keeping Joanie and Clive’s reputation on level. But she wasn’t sure she could handle commitment after her last commitment ended so very badly.

Still. It’d be nice to have him here. Maybe for another round of sex. Some snacks and television. A shower.

A smile curved her lips as Marcus, bare-assed naked, and ridiculously gorgeous, swaggered into her bedroom. She allowed her eyes to browse the expanse of his chest, the chest hair spreading over firm pecs and tapering down to the six-pack of abs. And lower. To the impressive member of his anatomy hanging temptingly between two thick, muscular thighs. Raising her gaze to his face, she found his mouth hitched into a sideways smile, his hair mussed, and his stubble prominent.

She stared, smiling.

He just stood there and let her stare, smiling back.

“Did you want to—”

“I should get going,” he said at the same time.

“Oh, of course.” So he didn’t want to stay. She tried not to be hurt by that, and really, she wasn’t. She did feel exposed, however, and tugged the sheet higher, tucking it under her armpits.

“I, uh… Thanks.” His smile was less easy, and his sentiment was…strange.

“You’re welcome.” Her sentiment, she found, was equally strange.

He gathered his clothes, pulling on his boxers and snapping the waistband against his flat stomach, pulling on his slacks, and buttoning up his shirt. By the time he ran his hands through his hair, she was full-on regretting that he was leaving so soon. She wanted to ask what he was doing this weekend, but bit back the urge.

“You gonna be okay here, recovering by yourself?” he asked, and it sounded like good-bye.

“Somehow I’ll manage.” Cupping a pillow, she curled into it and wished for a moment she had the courage to ask him to stay. Regardless of her fears, of what lingered between them, he’d feel better than this stupid pillow. And the pillow would not wake her and want morning sex.

Sigh.

He leaned over and pressed his lips to hers, squeezing one butt cheek as he did. “See you, McIntire.”

Asking when would be needy so she didn’t. Instead she said, “See you” and closed her eyes, refusing to watch him go. “Lock up before you go.”

It was what he’d told her after their night together, and he didn’t argue. Instead, he took the stairs, called out a low, rumbling “good night”, and closed the door behind him.

Then the house was quiet.

And Lily was alone.

Chapter Sixteen

He’d wanted to stay Friday night. Wanted to tuck Lily beneath her blankets, pull her against his body, and fall asleep with her wrapped in his arms. Then he realized he needed to man the hell up before he sent her running for the hills. She was twitchy and this was new. As grateful as he was to have her in bed again, he didn’t want to spook away the opportunity for it to happen again.

Never in his life had he been this careful. Then again, never before had he worried about spooking a woman. Before, if they got spooked, then hip-hip-hooray. After his failed relationship with Annie, girls could come, just so long as coming was followed by going. With Lily it was different. He was different. In a good way. Or at least, he thought it was a good way. Leaving her in bed alone Friday night made him feel nothing but shitty.

Reginald London was not wrong about Marcus being good at poker. He had a great poker face. Usually he smiled the entire time. Laughed his way through a bluff. Kind of like life. But where Lily was concerned, he was beginning to fear he’d shown too many of his cards way too soon.

She’d seen his hand all right. Actually, she’d seen every last inch of him, and he’d seen every last inch of her. It should have been enough, but it wasn’t. She wasn’t a conquest. This wasn’t about getting laid, getting the girl temporarily.

He was beginning to worry this was about getting the girl permanently. After saying “never again,” something in him was ready to try. After two years of crushing on Lily, dating other women, seeing Lily at the office the next day, and regretting the temporary fling, he knew what the end of the road looked like. And with any woman other than Lily in his arms, it looked a lot like misery.

From what he knew about her, the most important part of this was that Clive and Joanie never found out. That would be a challenge after what happened at their house during the London cocktail party, but Marcus was a convincing guy. He wasn’t ready to cede yet. Even with Clive giving him the stink eye in the break room Monday afternoon.

“Seriously. We were arguing and didn’t want to disturb the party,” Marcus insisted, topping off his mug of coffee and mixing in a teaspoon of creamer. Eventually, if they kept seeing each other, they’d have to tell their friends, but for now, it wasn’t any of their business. Clive was the hardest to convince, but if he had him, he had Joanie. Joanie, while incredibly intelligent, also had her mind on about nineteen different things at the same time. She was a lovable scatterbrain, and not always the most observant.

“Arguing.” Clive leaned against the countertop, arms crossed, unimpressed.

“You know how we are.” Marcus put the spoon in the sink and headed for the copy room. Clive followed. “Sorry if we ruined your party by running out, but it was for the best.”

“What were you arguing about?” Clive asked.

Marcus turned and gave his buddy a planned eye roll. “Hawaii.”

Clive nodded as if he wasn’t surprised. “She doesn’t want to go with you.”

“Of course she doesn’t.” Actually, she hadn’t really said one way or the other. When he told her the story he’d spun for Clive and Joanie last week, she’d sort of mumbled a response that may have been in the affirmative. He supposed he should see if she meant it or not, but now didn’t feel like the right time.

Clive stopped short of following him into the copy room. Good thing, too. Marcus had nothing to copy. “Lunch today?”

“Uh, no thanks, I’m catching up on email.”

“Suit yourself.” He turned his head. “Lily, lunch?”

Marcus couldn’t see her, but heard her approaching as she answered, “I have a lunch date.”

“Oh. Okay then. Joanie!” Clive called across the hall. She answered with an “I know! I’m coming!”

“Enjoy your date, Lily,” Clive told her, and Marcus came to the doorway in time to see the Camerons leave the building and Lily walking toward him, papers in hand.

“Hey, Marcus,” she said brightly.

“Hi. I told Clive we were arguing at his house and that’s why we left.”

Her eyebrows crawled up her forehead. “And he believed you.”

“Is it that hard to believe?”

She shrugged a shoulder and wouldn’t look at him. He wanted to touch her, to pull her lips to his and say something teasing and sexy, then kiss her until she melted into him. Even with Joanie and Clive gone, and the temp off today, he was holding back until she explained her “lunch date”.

“What are you working on today?” he asked instead.

“Oh, this and that. No big projects, just the little ones that require a lot of attention and a fast turnaround.”

“Nice,” he said, hating this how-is-the-weather conversation. It felt forced.

“Go back to the mansion yet?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Not yet. You?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll be going back.”

“Not even if I dared you?”

She gave him a small smile as she fed her papers into the copier and pressed a button. “Especially not if you dared me.”

“So.” He put his coffee down on a table, watching the machine spit out copies. “You’re…you have a lunch date.”

“Mm-hmm,” she said, far too casually for his liking. “Same guy that I’m going with to the RSD dinner.” Her eyes trailed to the side. “Hope that won’t be awkward.”

“You hope that won’t be awkward.” Was he missing something major here? What had happened after he left her satisfied in her bed Friday? Did she get a call from an ex? Did she decide to end things with Marcus and not tell him?

“I mean…you don’t mind, right?”

Jaw clenched, he leaned forward. “I mind, McIntire.”

“Oh, bummer.” Her blue eyes widened. “I was going to do that no-panty thing that you asked me to do.”

His brow went down, his brain in Neanderthal mode. “What?”

“You, dummy. You’re my lunch date. And my RSD dinner date.”

Oh. Sweet.

“You’ll pay for that.”

“I hope so.” She grinned.

He took the two steps separating them, lowered his face. Against her lips, he said, “Missed your mouth.”

“It’s only been two days.”

Didn’t he know it. “How did you sleep?”

“Fitfully.” Her arms came up to drape around his neck, and he stepped in closer, palming her hips.

“Seriously? I would think you would’ve passed out, slept like the dead.”

“What about you? How did you sleep?”

Not well. He’d wanted to be with her in her bed. He wanted her right now.

“When are we coming out of the closet?” he asked.

She chuckled. “You mean out of the pantry?”

“Yeah. When?” he pressed.

Her smile fell, and her arms tightened the slightest bit. She straightened, somehow managing to come away from him so that her shirt was no longer brushing his. “Don’t you like no one knowing?”

“What about the RSD dinner this weekend? What is your plan there?”

“I told you, I’m not wearing panties.”

“Which I appreciate, but what…we both show stag?”

“Worried about your reputation?” she teased.

“McIntire, quit jerking me around.”

“Oh, but you like it.” Her hand snaked between their bodies and cupped his crotch. His body bucked. His brain blanked. “Don’t you?”

He ran his hands up her rib cage to just under her breasts. “You’re distracting me on purpose.”

She continued her erotic massage. “Yes, I am. What are you going to do about it?”

“Let you.”

“I have unfinished business with you,” she said, sliding his zipper down. “And I always finish what I start.”

With the copier whirring away in the background, Lily sank to her knees and tore open his pants. He managed to back them out of sight from the front door, and hoped to God they’d hear if someone came into the building.

…

“You steal one more piece of my chicken, Black, and I am going to throttle you!” Lily raised her eyebrows and gave him the sternest expression she could manage. Part of that was for show. The other part was sincere. She would appreciate if he stopped eating her food.

He grinned, stuck his chopsticks into her paper container, and came out with another piece of chicken—which he then put in his mouth and chewed merrily while making moaning noises.

She turned to Joanie. “Are you seeing this?”

“Come on, guys. It’s going on nine o’clock, and Joanie and I would like to go home and have crazy, hot, monkey sex on the sofa.”

“Clive!” Joanie’s face went pink.

“Okay, the kitchen counter,” Clive corrected.

“I apologize for my husband.” Joanie shook her head and dug into her noodles, and while she was a little red with embarrassment, she didn’t look all that upset. Clive may be teasing about the where, but Lily had no doubts her best friends had an active love life. It was admirable really. They’d been married for seven years, and showed no signs they’d been together more than seven months.

“I suppose you’re right, dear,” Clive said. “It’s rude to brag about my awesome sex life to two people who may or may not be getting any.”

Worst timing ever. Lily had just taken a big bite. A big bite that also had a very big sliver of red pepper in it. Now she was coughing, and the pepper was burning her throat. Marcus stood from his chair to come to her aid. She waved him off frantically, able to catch her breath, as she reached for her Diet Coke and took a hearty sip.

“I’m fine,” she croaked.

“I should get Clive home. If he continues to act like this toward our friends, the courteous thing to do is to remove him from your presence.” Joanie stood from the conference table and began clearing the takeout containers. “Are you two going to keep working? If not, we can start again in the morning.”

“You know me,” Marcus said from beside Lily. He placed his palms on the table next to her, leaning over her and saturating the air with that delicious male scent of his. “I love to burn the midnight oil.”

“Not me. I have to go home, pet my neighbor’s cat, feed my goldfish, and heat a cup of soup for one.” She gave Clive a sad smile. He gave her one back…but not like he was apologetic. No, he gave her a smile as if he knew more than he was letting on. He flicked a look to Marcus, and that smile broadened to a grin.

Interesting.

Her eyes went to her best friend, but she saw nothing on Joanie’s face that said she had any clue what was happening. Then Lily snapped her attention to her immediate right, where Marcus stood over her, looking innocent, when clearly, he was not. He’d told her earlier that Clive had bought the “arguing” excuse, but to her, Clive looked unconvinced.

It wasn’t easy, but Lily kept her comments to herself while her friends gathered their things and made their way out of the conference room. Marcus locked them out of the building while Lily cut through the hallway, building steam as she went. He swaggered his very fine ass in her direction, and she stepped out of her office, held up a finger, and poked him square in the chest.