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“I don’t want you to be,” Marcel said earnestly, following her gaze. “I want you to be you. That sexy, beautiful, free-spirited woman you are. That’s whom I’m attracted to, baby. That’s whom I want to spend my time with. Not some facsimile of my wife. There was—and will always be—only one Marika. I’m not looking for another.”
Nairobia turned her eyes from the stunning portrait and gazed directly at Marcel.
“Then what are you really looking for?”
Marcel inhaled sharply, scrubbing his hand over his face. He thought he’d already made it clear what he wanted. He wasn’t into the dating game. He actually felt out of touch. And the prospect of being on some online dating site was something he couldn’t wrap his mind around. The thought of dating after having been married for so long actually made him uneasy. And he wasn’t into multiple sex partners—anymore. Well, not really. Well, he hadn’t been since Marika’s death. And he seriously doubted he ever would be again.
“I’m looking for someone who I can spend my life with. Someone whom I can travel the world with, someone I can wake up to, make love to, and fuck whenever, wherever, however.” He smiled at her. “I’d like to think I already found what I’m looking for. You.”
Nairobia sucked in her breath and let it out in a long exhale as she tried to picture herself spending the rest of her life with him—with anyone, for that matter.
She couldn’t see it. And it saddened her. It simply wasn’t there. And she couldn’t force something that wasn’t obtainable.
“I can’t do—”
Marcel put his hand up to stop her.
“Ssh. Please. Don’t say anything right now. Think on it. I’ll give you all the time and space you need. No pressure.”
There was nothing to think about. This couldn’t happen. It wouldn’t happen.
“Mar—”
He leaned over and covered her mouth with a kiss, shutting her up. When he finally pulled away, she had to catch her breath.
“Baby,” Marcel began and paused. Nairobia’s heart stopped. Whatever words would come next, she knew for certain her entire world would most likely never be the same again once they were spoken.
She braced herself. “Yes?”
“Je t’aime…”
Let me love you.
FORTY-TWO
Marcel wasn’t used to being put on hold by anyone—not for long, anyway. He’d told Nairobia to think about what he’d wanted from her.
To love her.
He said he’d give her space, while she thought it over.
But that was close to fucking three weeks ago.
He hadn’t considered she’d take her slow, sweet-ass time. A few days, tops, should have been sufficient enough for her to decide whether or not she wanted to pursue more with him. It wasn’t a difficult question. He hadn’t asked her to marry him, or to jum
p off a cliff with him. So what the fuck was the problem?
And why was she avoiding him?
This waiting-around shit was driving him crazy.
He grunted, shaking his head. Look at you, man. Obsessing over a damn woman. Pull your shit together. If she ain’t beat for you, then let that shit go…
He sighed, and leaned back in his chair. The problem was, he didn’t want to let go. He wanted her. No one else.
Nairobia was the one, the only one for him.
He knew that. Felt it in every part of his soul. Marika…
