Trista Ann Michaels (9 page)

Sinclair snorted. “When were you ever fat?”

“Not fat, but not skinny either. It was right after college. I’d spent too much time eating fast food and not enough time exercising.”

Her gaze shot back to his. “I didn’t know you went to college.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t I tell you that?” He frowned.

She shook her head. “Where did you go?”

He took a deep breath and studied her fingers that he held in his hand. She wondered at his hesitancy in answering the question. She rose up onto her elbow. “Is it a secret?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Just don’t judge.”

“Judge?” She smiled.

He pursed his lips and nodded before saying quietly, “Harvard.”

Her mouth dropped open as she gaped at him. “Harvard? Oh, my God, you’re one of those preppy blue bloods I can’t stand.” She fell onto her back and stared at the ceiling. “It’s over,” she proclaimed, teasing him. “How could we ever make such a relationship work?”

She glanced over at Marcus, whose one-sided smile made her heart race.

“Very funny,” he replied as he placed his palm on her stomach and gave her a little shake.

“Why on earth would I judge you for attending Harvard?”

He shrugged. “I heard you bitch numerous times about guys who attend ivy-league colleges. That’s why I guess I never said anything.”

“What’s your degree in?”

“I went for business, but instead of following my degree, I ended up flying.” He smiled. “I like it better than business.”

She smiled back. “That’s the important thing … that you like what you do.”

He nodded. “I agree.”

“But that’s an awful lot of money to spend on a college degree and not use it,” she said with a slight frown.

As she studied him and the way he wouldn’t meet her in the eye, she wondered if there was more to it—something he wasn’t telling her or didn’t want her to know.

“Marcus’” She rolled back to her side.

He brought his gaze back to hers.

“How did you meet our boss?”

He looked back down at her hand. With a pensive frown, he brushed his thumb over her knuckle as he spoke, but he didn’t lift his gaze. “I’ve known Alexander my whole life.”

“Really?” she asked. “What’s he like?”

Marcus again shrugged. “He’s a lot like me. He’s very private, very distrustful. He was hurt.” He brought his gaze back to hers and Sinclair tried to read what was in his eyes. “Long time ago. I think that’s mostly why he keeps to himself—keeps his life and identity so private.”

“That’s sad,” she said. “You said he was a lot like you. Were you hurt?”

Marcus sighed and leaned down to kiss the tip of her nose. “I think we can surely think of something else to talk about,” he murmured against her lips. “Or do.”

Sinclair smiled, temporarily forgetting the questions she wanted to ask. “Do, huh,” she giggled as he rolled her to her back and settled his weight on top of her.

Her legs spread, allowing him to sink between her thighs. He pressed against her and she sighed, lifting one knee. His cock thickened and she felt herself getting wet in anticipation.

“Now that I think about it,” he purred. “We don’t need to go anywhere.”

Chapter Twelve

Marcus put his hand at the small of Sinclair’s back, leading her into the crowded restaurant where they planned to have dinner. They’d spent the entire day in the bedroom, playing, talking, laughing. She had a way about her that drove him nuts, making him want her more and more.

He had so many plans for their few days here, but instead of the games he had in mind, she made him so damn crazy for her, he just ended up making love to her—the games forgotten. Tonight would be different. Which is why he suggested dinner out.

They needed time to talk, to explore their relationship in ways other than sex, even though sex was all he could think of.

He looked down and watched the slow sway of her ass as she walked. She wore a short, purple sundress that complimented her tan and curvy figure. Her three-inch heels made her legs look longer and so sexy he could hardly turn away, but he had to. If he didn’t, he’d run into someone or something and make a total fool of himself.

As they walked through the crowd to their table in the far corner, he slid his hand up her skirt and pinched her bare ass. She gasped and swatted at his arm.

“Marcus,” she hissed over her shoulder before glancing around at the various couples to see if anyone saw.

“Don’t make such a big deal and no one would even notice,” he teased.

She sent him an agitated look over her shoulder that made him smile. Sinclair could sometimes be such a spitfire. It was one of the things he liked about her. When he’d first met her, he’d loved watching her get riled. He still did.

With a sigh, he took a seat at the table. Instead of sitting across from her, he took the one next to her so he could rest his hand on her thigh, just above her knee.

“Can I get you anything from the bar?” the waitress asked as she placed two menus on the table.

“I’ll have a beer,” Marcus said, then nodded to Sinclair. “What do you want, baby?”

“I think I’ll have a Long Island Ice Tea. I haven’t had one in forever.”

The waitress walked away to get their drinks and Marcus leaned his elbows on the table. “Don’t get smashed, Sinclair,” he said and she turned to give him a strange look.

“Why are you worried about me getting smashed?” she asked with a short laugh.

“I don’t like having sex with overly drunk women. I feel like I’m taking advantage.”

Sinclair smiled softly and nodded a thank you to the waitress as she set the drinks on the table in front of them. When she walked away, Sinclair turned back to Marcus and replied. “For starters, I’m an adult. Don’t treat me like a child.” Marcus raised an eyebrow, but let her continue. “Secondly, it’s not like we haven’t had sex, so you wouldn’t be taking advantage.”

“Point taken on the second, but face it, Sinclair. I’m a Dom and sometimes that bossy demeanor will come out other places besides the bedroom. Are you going to have a problem with that?”

She studied him with a serious expression. “So long as you don’t expect me to always bow to your every demand.”

Marcus snorted. “Are you kidding me? I happen to like your stubborn streak. You,” he gripped her chin and pulled her face toward his, “can fight me all you want.” He placed a quick kiss on her lips, then smiled. “That doesn’t mean, though, I will always let you win.”

She grinned wickedly and pulled her face from his grasp.

“So, it’s like that is it?” he murmured as he watched her lift her glass and take a large sip.

His lips twitched as he realized she might get drunk just to prove to him she could. Sinclair didn’t like being bossed around. He’d known that about her since the beginning.

Bossing her around was never his intention. He just liked pulling her chain. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her he loved her. It had been for a long time. Sitting here, watching her, touching her, it was even harder not to say the words.

How would she take it? Would she run? Would she freak out? Or would she say it back?

Sometimes, he’d swear he saw love in her eyes, but he’d thought he’d seen it in others and been wrong. He’d learned his lesson the hard way—the lesson not to trust women.

Sinclair was different. She wouldn’t play him for a fool. She wouldn’t lie to him. His smile faded. Not like he was lying to her. God, he was such an idiot.

Her gaze narrowed as she watched him suspiciously. He had a feeling she knew something was up. He needed to tell her, but not here. Not yet.

“You know,” she began. “I keep getting the feeling you’re not telling me something.”

“Like what?” he asked, as the waitress placed a basket of bread on their table.

“Are you sure there’s not something bothering you?”

Marcus waited until she walked away before replying. “No.” He forced himself to smile again. “I was just thinking about putting you over my knee for deliberately disobeying me.”

Her lips parted slightly and her eyes went wide briefly before a light flush moved over her cheeks.

He moved closer and lowered his voice. “Your ass would look incredibly sexy all red from a spanking.”

She swallowed and he inwardly smiled at the realization she liked what he was saying. She tried to cover up her reaction by narrowing her eyes at him.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she replied.

“Try me,” he purred.

She gave him a shrewd look. “I just might.”

Now it was Marcus’s turn to try and cover his surprise. God, he hoped she did. She lifted the glass and took another sip. Her cheeks flushed an adorable shade of pink from drinking the tea too fast. He reached out and set the glass just out of her reach. She frowned and leaned forward to grab it, but he grasped her hand in his, stopping her.

“Sinclair. We haven’t eaten a lot today, so it won’t take much to make you drunk and I want you sober tonight.”

Her head tilted as she studied him. “Why? What’s so important about tonight?”

He started to say why it was so important, but the waitress returned to take their order. After Sinclair placed her order, she asked. “Could I get a glass of water with lemon?”

“Of course,” the waitress replied, before taking the menus and walking toward the kitchen.

“We have a few minutes before she comes back. What’s so important?” Sinclair asked, looking at him with her no-nonsense stare that made him squirm.

Marcus took a deep breath as he leaned on his elbows and clasped his hands in front of him. “I love you,” he said simply. “That’s what’s so important.”

He lifted his gaze to hers. She sat silently staring at him, her mouth open in shock.

“Say something, Sinclair,” he murmured.

Her mouth moved but nothing came out, at least at first. “You love me?” she asked, still obviously shocked.

He didn’t say anything, just watched her, his hands clasped tightly, his fingers clenched. His whole body felt tense and anxious as he waited for her response.

*

Sinclair wasn’t sure what to say. That was the last thing she expected to hear from him and the fact he’d said it, much less felt it, had nearly knocked the wind out of her.

She’d fantasized about sex with him. She never imagined he would fall in love with her. She’d been guarding her heart all this time and hadn’t needed to. She’d spent the whole time they’d been here convincing herself she wasn’t in love with him and now, here he sat, spilling his heart out and all she could do was stare at him.

It wasn’t that she didn’t love him back. She did, but she was terrified to say it. She was terrified his words were nothing more than the atmosphere, the incredible sex. She was terrified that as soon as they returned, he would take those words back after realizing he’d said them too soon.

Marcus looked at his hands, shielding his eyes from her view. She’d hurt him by not saying something, anything. Reaching out, she put her hand over his and he lifted his gaze back to hers.

“I’m scared,” she whispered, deciding to be honest with him.

He frowned. “Of what? Me?”

She shrugged slightly and gave him a pleading look. “I’m afraid you’ll change your mind once we leave here.”

Marcus’s frown deepened. “Sinclair, don’t you not know me better than that by now?”

She removed her hand from his as her own anger began to rise to the surface. “We’ve known each other a long time and not once did you give me any indication you were interested in me.”

“Oh, the hell I didn’t,” he argued.

Sinclair sat back in her chair and sighed. “You did not.”

“You just didn’t see it,” he replied.

Crossing her arms, Sinclair studied him and almost laughed. “Why are we fighting?”

“Because you’re too stubborn to admit you love me.” His lips twitched slightly in amusement.

He came to his feet and stood next to her. Leaning down, he put one hand on the table, the other on the back of her chair, bringing his nose close to hers.

“Admit it,” he murmured.

She raised an eyebrow. “You really want to bully it out of me?”

“At the moment, I’ll take it any way I can get it. I would prefer it, though, if you meant it. I love you, Sinclair. That’s not going to change, even when we leave here. Of that, I can promise you.”

She put her hand on his cheek and brushed her thumb across his bottom lip. She loved his mouth. It could be firm, sexy, or soft. He could kiss her once and get whatever he wanted from her.

And he knew it.

He also knew how she felt. He had to see it, but she said it anyway. “I love you.”

Chapter Thirteen

Marcus followed Sinclair down the beach as they strolled back to their cabin. He smiled as she ran forward, chasing a wave as it washed back out to shore. It came back in, splashing against her legs and she laughed, kicking at it with her bare feet.

“I love the ocean.” She smiled back at him over her shoulder.

“Then we should buy a house on the beach,” he called back as he watched from a few feet away.

She turned to face him and grinned. “You can afford a house on the beach?”

He could tell by her smile and mischievous eyes she didn’t quite believe him. She was only playing along.

“You would be surprised what I can afford, I think.”

She tilted her head and studied him until he began to squirm. God, he needed to tell her—before they went any further. Unfortunately, he was terrified he would lose her and he didn’t want their happiness to end just yet.

“Well, so long as we’re planning for our future,” she said with a teasing grin, “a house on the beach would be nice.” She walked toward him and he watched the moonlight reflect on the water clinging to her legs. Those gorgeous, long, firm legs. “One in the mountains, too. And we can’t forget France.”

Marcus frowned slightly. What had she just said? She’d hated France the last time they were there.

“France?” he asked. “I thought you didn’t like France.”

She shrugged. “I don’t. I just thought so long as we’re dreaming…”

“Dreaming, huh?” he asked with a snicker. “I make good money. I can afford a house on the beach. If it’s what you want.”