11
“What about Rory?”
She looked up at him with big startled eyes that were either telling him she was disappointed or worried about her boyfriend.
His spine stiffened. “I don’t give a fuck about him,” he snapped. “My concern right now is ensuring you get home safely.”
He didn’t get any enjoyment from being an emotionless asshole towards this beautiful woman, especially when she had crawled right under his flesh and was licking his heart with her sweet strawberry-flavoured tongue.
In blunt terms, he had to, for her sake and his. He wasn’t interested in fairy-tale’s or relationship goals, and she was with another man, considering marriage.
Those were the cold hard facts. Yet every time she looked up at him with those big blue eyes, a weird feeling ate him up inside and it scared the hell out of him.
It was taking every ounce of restraint to hold back from grabbing her, feasting on her heaving tits, and taking that mouth of hers to places on his body that would make his hard on happy.
He needed to regain control and get her out of his line of vision and out of his head.
Lana clambered into the back seat of the car. The door slammed shut.
Marcus backed up a few steps, unable to see through the tinted glass. He turned away and hit the call button, waiting patiently for the elevator to arrive.
The engine purred as the car rolled away. An overwhelming tightness tugged at his ribs.
His neck twisted and he gazed back over his shoulder to watch the car drive up the narrow ramp to the streets above.
His mouth tightened to a firm line. She was gone and now he could finally breathe again, even though the air was better when she was next to him.