We pulled apart for a second, shaky, sharp breaths coming from our mouths. The feel of the warm air on each other’s lips was enough to make me feel like I could let go and lose control in this kiss.
Wait, why had we pulled away? Why weren’t we kissing anymore?
I pulled away further, so that Mark’s face came into focus. His eyes were wide open, waiting for mine to find him.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
He seemed to smile at this question of mine and then put his hands on the sides of my face and pulled me in again for another kiss. This time, totally different to the first. The pulling away, I realized, was nothing more than a moment taken before changing gears. The calm before a storm. Because the kiss quickly went from soft and slow to everything but that. Fast. Hard. Hungry.
I whimpered as he moved his lips off my mouth and they trailed over my chin and neck. God, he was good at this. So, so good. Back up to my lips again, pushing inside my mouth. Open and wanting and demanding. Nice Mark was gone now. It surprised me, but fucking thrilled me too. Nice guys didn’t kiss like this. Nice guys didn’t wrap their fingers through your hair and tangle it and pull at it. Nice guys didn’t slide their hands down to your ass and pull you closer. Nice guys didn’t start walking you backwards to the house, completely wet and clinging to each other. Nice guys didn’t grab onto you hungrily.
And as for me . . . I was definitely not being nice either, my hands pulling at his sticky shirt and wanting it off his body so badly that I wasn’t sure I could contain myself. And then . . .
A slip on the wet soil. A tumble to the ground.
“Shit!” I laughed, pulling myself onto my hands and knees in the muddy soil. I looked over my shoulder at Mark who was laughing too, also pulling himself up. I was just about to turn around and kiss him again in the mud, when I saw his eyes zone in on my back, where my shirt had ridden up. His entire face changed in an instant. Everything that was there a few moments ago, was gone. Totally and utterly gone.
“What?” I turned and asked, looking at him. He didn’t make eye contact now. “What?” I asked again frantically as his demeanor changed even more.
He stood up.
I stood up.
“Mark?” I asked, running my hands over my back, over my tattoo, where he’d been looking.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, hurt and confused by this sudden change between us that I was struggling to understand.
“Sorry,” he suddenly muttered.
“Sorry for what?”
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he quickly stated and started walking back to the house.
“Um . . .” I stood there in utter confusion. How had we gone from kissing like that, to this?
He strode up the steps to the veranda again and I got somewhat frantic. I chased after him.
“Mark. Stop!” I commanded.
He turned around and looked at me. His eyes were no longer filled with lust and want and desire for me. My heart broke.
“Frankie,” his voice was slow and soft, but firm, “I’m really sorry. That should never have happened.”
“Why?” I folded my arms across my chest.
He shook his head and then started wringing the water out of his shirt. The drops falling onto the ground felt so definitive. The end.
I nodded. “Okay.” I couldn’t hide the hurt in my voice, which made me feel like a total idiot.
“Good night, Frankie. Sleep well.” He turned again and started walking into the house. He stopped, but didn’t look back. “You should have a warm shower before bed, you don’t want to get sick.”
And with that, he was gone and I was left staring after him wondering . . .
WTF had just happened?
CHAPTER 42
“So, can I take him or what?” I asked Samirah, my arms folded.
