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Nairobia swallowed again. Love was not in her life plan. It had never been.
Marcel held out his arm, wanting to feel closer to her. He gave her a faint smile when she slid down next to him, burrowing into his side so he could wrap his arm around her again. He did. And he could feel her melting into him as he anchored her against him.
Nairobia felt overwhelmed. Everything about Marcel was so intense, so damn…demanding. He wanted her. But did she want him?
She honestly didn’t know.
She thought she did. No-strings-attached wanted. That Marcel was simply an occasional good fuck when her cunt craved the stretch of a jumbo-sized cock.
But Marcel had disrupted the balance in that. He’d changed the rules without her permission. He pushed his way into her life without the decency of a proper request.
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Did she want this? Did she want him?
At one point—hell, before he stepped over the threshold, the answer would have been absolute—a definitive no. But now she was uncertain. She’d allowed Marcel to get inside her head planting seeds of hope and promise; hope that would somehow come up short, and a string of promises that would surely be broken.
How could they not be?
Here was a man still stuck between the past and the present, trying to stubbornly wedge his way into her future. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t, give into the illusion that there’d be some happily-ever-after.
She didn’t believe in fairy tales.
And she wasn’t the type of woman who wept and sniveled over the loss of a man when things went terribly awry.
And Nairobia didn’t do uncertainty. And she didn’t indulge in fear.
Yet, at this very moment, she felt uncertain, and deathly afraid.
He dared her to dream. Dared her to let a man—him—into her heart. And she didn’t know what to do with that. Being single gave her that autonomy to live her life, on her terms, by her rules, no one else’s. She never wanted to be under the thumb of a man. Never wanted to be defined by a man. But relationships had a way of stifling one’s independence, had a way of stripping them of their identity. No, no. She wouldn’t stand for that. She didn’t want to ever lose herself…to anyone.
She’d never been in a relationship. Never had to be accountable to anyone, except herself. And she’d been fine with that.
She still was.
Wasn’t she?
She pulled away from him—again, and stood. She paced. She was so confused. She didn’t do confusion. And, yet, she’d didn’t know if she were coming or going. Something she was never known for. But Marcel was, he was…
Damn him.
He was making her weak.
And she despised weak women.
Marcel rose to his feet.
She eyed him, and he gave a pained look that seared her soul. She averted her eyes from his gaze. Why was he doing this to her?
He crossed over to her in less than two steps and cupped her face in his hands, pressing his forehead against hers.
“God, you’re so beautiful,” he breathed out. “Why can’t you let me in?” He looked at her, deep in her eyes. “I’m not a perfect man, Nairobia. But I’m a good one. And I’m loyal, baby.” He tenderly kissed the side of her mouth, then his mouth moved over hers, his tongue teasing over her lips, before pushing its way into her parted mouth. He kissed her deeply, with a hot need that burned through her body.
When he pulled away, she was breathless, and feeling helpless to resist him. But she had to. She would never be the woman he needed, the woman he deserved. Devoted to only him.
“You can trust me with your heart, baby,” he said, his voice cracking as if he’d been reading her thoughts.
She swallowed the lump in the back of her throat. “It’s not you I don’t trust. It’s me. I can’t do this with you, MarSell. I wish I could, my darling. But…” She shook her head. “You overwhelm me. You complicate my life.”
