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“Good morning, beautiful,” I grunt against her mouth.
The vibrations of my voice wake Leighton up. Her eyes flutter open, huge, fathomless blues.
“Marcus.”
Hope blossoms in my chest. Yesterday, I promised myself I wouldn’t break for her so soon. That I’d wait another week, at the bare minimum. Make sure she was sure.
Less than twenty-four hours of thinking this through couldn’t have been enough for her. But goddamnit, she’s tempting me. If Leighton tells me right this second that she loves me no matter what, my resolve would be in serious jeopardy.
“Little doll.” I tighten my hold on her neck, nuzzling her nose. “How’d you sleep?”
“I’m sick.” A tear rolls down her cheek.
My stomach roils, panic twisting my insides.
“What’s wrong?” I press my lips to her forehead. No fever. My eyes return to search hers, my hand slipping beneath the throw blanket to rub her belly. “Leigh, tell me what’s wrong, baby. Something wrong with the food? You need me to take you to the bathroom?”
I push to my feet, ready to launch for the fridge to get her a yogurt and set the water for her tea.
“Marcus, please, listen to me.” Her voice creaks. Her slender fingers tug on my jeans.
The uncharacteristic sob that follows is a shot to the heart.
“Leighton, I can’t stay.”
I curse myself for taking this a step too far. I intended to push her out of her comfort zone. Wanted to sever her connection to the outside world. For her to understand I’m the only one she should give a fuck about.
Having her weak and crying with exhaustion was never meant to happen.
Even the beast inside me howls watching her like this.
“I can’t just sit here.” I pull my lips in. I kneel for her, my hand delving into her hair, parting the thick strands. “You have to drink tea to get better. Put more food in your belly.”
“My body is fine, Marcus.” Leighton perches on her elbow, and I adjust the throw blanket to cover her. “It’s my head that’s sick. This”—she plucks the photo from the couch, waving it in my face—“I like it. I’m looking at it now, and all it does is turn me on. Makes me want you on top of me. It’s so fucked up. Why do I like it?”
“That’s simple.” My lips quirk in a partly relieved, partly wicked grin. “You love my attention.”
“This isn’t healthy.” Her nose scrunches.
I can’t help myself. I trail my hand to the nape of her neck, tug her to me, and lick the tears off her cheeks.
“A lot of the things I’ve done aren’t socially acceptable.” My lips brush hers, silencing her rebuttal. “Things I’ve done for you. For us.”
“Why haven’t you asked me out? Without anyone knowing?” she mumbles. “Why not take me out now? We can do that, be normal.”
Normal? Why aren’t we normal in her eyes?
I was wrong to think she was ready. She’s not. She’s getting there, though. She’s honest with herself, and that counts for something.
Progress, not perfection.
“We’re done playing this ping-pong game.” I kiss her nose and stand, distancing myself from her. “That doesn’t work for either of us.”
My clever girl shakes her head.
“Come on.” Outstretching my hand to her, I help pull her up. When she straightens, I level my gaze with hers. “Can I trust you to be a good girl, brush your teeth, and shower without trying to escape? You need coffee and breakfast, and I can’t be in both places at once.”
“Yes. I—Marcus.” She plays with a strand of her hair, tugging nervously. “I don’t hate you.”
