I force my gaze away from him as he slides off the mattress, picking up his pants and sliding them on, not even bothering to locate his boxers.
He tucks himself away and tugs the zipper up, and the way the dark denim hangs low on his hips, showcasing the deep V cut at his sides, doesn’t do a lot to curb the raw fucking sex appeal that pours off him.
My pussy clenches in response, a wave of arousal contrasting with a bite of pain as memories of what we just did flood me.
I’m gonna be sore tomorrow.
Hell, I’m already sore.
“Let me drive you home.” Marcus’s voice is back to its usual commanding tone, but I’ve had enough of being commanded for one night. I’ve had enough of my body making stupid choices before my mind has a chance to catch up.
“No. Thanks.”
He narrows his eyes, obviously not liking that answer one bit. “How did you get here?”
“Cab.”
“How are you planning to get home?”
The cab ride here was more expensive than I’d hoped, and I really don’t have the money to spring for one on the way back too. I shouldn’t have even come here at all. I don’t want to be out of even more money for a stupid mistake.
“Bus.”
“No.”
My eyebrows shoot up at his blunt, immediate response. “It’s none of your business how I get home.”
He smiles again, looking slightly amused. “I’m still not sure you understand what is and is not my business, angel.”
I lift my chin, the trickle of fear that washes down my spine turning to defiance. “I don’t need a ride from you. And I’m not accepting a ride from you. Fucking deal with it.”
My body tenses slightly as I speak. Part of me expects him to throw me over his shoulder, carry me down the stairs, and throw me in his car like a fucking caveman, and I’m honestly not sure what I’ll do if he does. Will I fight him? Can I fight him?
And more importantly, can I win?
But he just shrugs, lifting one broad shoulder as he tugs his phone out of his pocket and checks the screen. He taps something out on the touchscreen as he glances up at me, his mesmerizing eyes glinting with some emotion I can’t quite identify. “It’s almost midnight. You sure the buses are still running?”
Fuck. Some of them aren’t. But enough still are that I can make it back home, even if it’s by a more circuitous route than I hoped for.
“Yeah. I’ll be fine.”
He shrugs again. “Okay.”
I take a step toward the bedroom door, still half expecting him to stop me.
But in the end, I’m the one who stops myself. My footsteps slow before I reach the dark cherry wood door, which stands open slightly—I didn’t realize Marcus never closed it.
Turning back to face him, I meet his gaze. “What did you do to Natalie? Really.”
His expression hardens again when I mention her name, just like it did last time. But his voice is blunt and honest when he speaks.
“I broke into her apartment. I told her to leave you the fuck alone. Then I told her to get out. Movers came and collected her stuff.” One corner of his mouth quirks up, although there’s no humor in his eyes. “Don’t worry. They were shitty ones.”
“You didn’t hurt her?”
His jaw tightens, as if he’s pissed or annoyed—or hurt?—that I would assume that.
“No. I’m not in the habit of hurting women.” He pauses, then adds, “I don’t hurt anyone if I can help it.”