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“Say it again,bambina.”
I said slowly, tentatively, “Marcus.”
The look in his dark eyes became hotter, and I shuddered as everything became clear.
Oh.
I tore my hands from his grasp-—
Oh!
And this time he let me go.
“Marcus.” His name spilled out in a helpless little tone, and when I saw his nostrils flare in response, I knew I hadn’t been imagining things.
This time I knew why my name on his lips made me feel strange, knew whyhisname onmylips seemed to have the same effect on him.
This time, I knew what he had known all along.
He wanted to have sex with me.
And I wanted to have sex with him.
The knowledge left me reeling. I was confused and breathless, disbelieving and uncertain. But most of all I was terrified, and without thinking, I licked my suddenly dry lips—-
His eyes blazed again, and I didn’t know whether to laugh or run away.
And I found myself asking dazedly, “Really?”
Something that simple could arouse him?
But Marcus only shrugged, arrogantly unrepentant. “Yes.” I supposed I should be thankful he was being honest.
“I’m a very sexual man.”
Or not.
I felt my breasts start to ache under my scuba suit, the pain unlike anything I had ever experienced before—-
Definitely not.
“Do you really think,” I whispered, “it’s possible for us to be friends?”
“No.” His lips twisted into a humorless smile. “But there’s no harm in trying, is there?”
