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“You really like causing trouble, don’t you?” He swatted my ass playfully. “One of these days you’re gonna get yourself into a situation with me you can’t get out of.”
On the surface, it didn’t look like anything was wrong, but my gut told me there was, and that he would hide it and pretend he was okay because that’s what he did. He was the rock for everyone around him and never let them know he needed things too.
“Maybe I won’t want to get out of it.” I shrugged, leaned in, and nipped his lip. “You smell good.”
“I went to the gym for a little while. Showered there.”
“Damn it. I love the smell of sweat on a man’s skin too.”
He growled and reached for me, but I twisted free before he could get ahold. “Stop being bad. You’ll distract me.”
“I’m the bad one? That’s you. And don’t play like you don’t want me to find all sorts of creative ways to distract you.”
He reached for me again, trying to wrap his arms around my waist. I swatted his hands away. “Daddy’s in a mood tonight, isn’t he?”
“Saying that to me sure as shit isn’t going to help my current situation.” He grabbed his crotch, showing me his very obvious erection behind his shorts.
It was my turn to groan. “Not gonna lie, I’m trying not to drool, but dinner first, sex later. Let’s go upstairs.” I’d prepared everything on the balcony.
Marcus followed me to his room, and when I opened the glass doors, I knew without looking that he froze in place. I felt the confusion radiating off him, the heaviness in the air as he wrestled with whether to allow himself to appreciate this.
The first thing he said was, “Wait, I thought you worked tonight.”
“I got someone to cover my shift.” And he’d still texted to say when he was getting home even though he didn’t think I’d be here? Fuck, this man. He made me feel all jittery inside. “But I also hung these lights, I hope you don’t mind. I thought they would enhance the mood.”
Everything we needed was there—a small fridge, his outdoor futon stacked with pillows, a gas firepit, his hot tub. I’d added the lighting because it was cute, then brought out the food and drinks and—
“A telescope?”
“It’s not a really good one. You might have a better one. I didn’t want to ask and ruin the surprise, so…surprise!” I threw my arms in the air, hoping I looked extra cute.
“How did you…”
“You mentioned it to Corbin one time.”
He ran his fingers over the telescope, which was perched on a tripod.
“I’m very, very good at spoiling people. I even made a jazz and blues playlist because you’re old and I think you like that stuff.”
He laughed, rich and deep, the sound working its way inside me and soothing my nerves. Then his expression sobered, his dark brows pulling together. “Come here.”
We were standing about five feet away from each other, but I didn’t budge. “What if I don’t want to?” I was a fucking boss for not jumping into his arms and telling him to take me now, even as we both knew it was exactly what I wanted.
“Come here,” he said again, his voice lower, raspier, and, well, this was one of those moments I really wanted Marcus to tell me what to do and to obey, so I went.
“Yes?”
This time when he wrapped his arms around me, I let him. Marcus held me tight, forehead pressed to mine, his eyes closed. “Thank you.”
My heart got way too mushy for comfort, like Marcus was doing things to it that I had never experienced before, making it want to open up and not only let him in, but maybe tackle him and drag him there even if he didn’t want to go. “Nothing to thank me for, baby. Now let’s eat before it gets cold.”
I’d gotten one of those bags delivery drivers used to keep the food warm, and grabbed the containers from inside.
“I smoked the ribs. I made my own seasoning too, wanted to try something different. It’ll have a little kick to it, almost like a Cajun flavor. I hope that’s okay.”
“Sounds damn good to me. I love ribs.”
“I know.” I grinned as we set the containers on the small table. I wasn’t going to pretend I wasn’t proud of myself for paying attention…or not being afraid to ask questions.
Marcus chuckled. “You’re a cheater. Who did you ask?”
“I’m not telling my secrets.”
“Corbin.”
“Corbin who?”
We sat at the table together. I’d made the ribs and green beans with bacon, onion, and garlic—as if there was any other way to have them—and homemade mac and cheese, all of which were favorites of his when he allowed himself to eat unhealthily. As we ate, I had to force myself not to ask him how it went with his folks. It was killing me not to know, but it also wasn’t my business, and I wanted Marcus to have a good night. He deserved to have a good night, one where he felt how special he was.
