Page 63 of Legacy of Deception

Brooklyn

An unmatched molten flame poured over me, pooling on the floor around my bare feet as I watched the study of temptation that Marco was.

Shirtless with black sweatpants slung low on his waist, my mind flashed back to the time I had found him sitting at the piano, masterfully striking those keys. Now I wished he would use that precision and his long fingers to hit all the right notes on me.

Play me like a musical instrument and make me sing.

Marco stretched his arm, running it through his wet hair. “I sleep on the right side usually.” He turned down the sheet, the muscles in his biceps straining with the motion.

I bit back a smile. He had a side of the bed he favored? “I’ll take the left.” Personally, I flopped into bed and hoped for the best. I had never given it much thought. Besides knowing I didn’t like sleeping near the window all that much.

He gave me a confused look, pausing before getting in on the right side like he so obviously intended on doing. “Is that the side you sleep on?”

I could have told him the truth, which was that I didn’t care one way or another, or I could have made this benefit me somehow. “Sometimes sacrifices need to be made.” Where was the harm in having him think I let him have the right side?

“And sometimes you can’t just throw philosophical shit out there.” Shaking his head and dismissing this conversation, he got into bed, grunting as he stretched out.

Shrugging, I did the same, except I was doing it with more clothes on. I wore a cami and pants. Sometimes I preferred the warmth socks provided me, but I figured I could always wedge my feet between Marco’s legs when we cuddled. “The side of the bed makes no difference to me, but I will be making a note of this favor I’m doing you.”

He gazed up at the ceiling, going through his routine like normal, pulling the sheet up and covering himself. “Fantastic. You do that.”

I, on the other hand, was in no rush to go to sleep. For whatever reason, I was wired. This was our first night together, and I didn’t know what to expect, but this definitely wasn’t anything I could have foreseen. “So, what does Marco do before he goes to bed?” Clearly, he ran by a very strict schedule and routine, so I may as well have known what it was. Then again, maybe this was all for my benefit, and he typically listened to a podcast or read a book or fell asleep with the television on. All possibilities in my mind. I myself didn’t have any strict regimen before bed. It was more so whatever I felt like doing in the moment. Just in the same way I didn’t have a time I liked to be in bed by.

Sneering, he fixed his head on the pillow for the fiftieth time in a short span. “Says his prayers, falls asleep in the middle, and gets up in the middle of the night to take a whizz. Happy?”

“Not what I meant, but okay.” I placed my hands in my lap, pretending to study my nails, which were painted a light pink. They were nice, but not something to stare at or observe.

“Are you really not going to stop talking?” he whispered, his voice a dry burr.

“I’m wide awake.”

“What will make you fall asleep?”

“You putting a shirt on.” My eyes clung to his as I turned my head.

It looked like he was swallowing a laugh before he snickered. “Try again.”

Rolling my eyes, I busied myself with braiding my hair. Maybe the motion would be relaxing and make me sleepy. “How can you sleep like that anyway?”

“My stomach is like a fiery pit of hell,” he answered matter-of-factly.

“Sometimes I sleep with a blanket in the summer.”

“Might want to get that checked out.”

I laughed. “Do you snore?”

“You’ll have to tell me,” he said stiffly, his eyes shifting toward the bedside lamp, probably thinking about how he wanted to shut it off.

I didn’t respond immediately, tossing my braid over my shoulder, knowing it was only going to fall apart because I didn’t have a tie on the bottom to hold it together. Meanwhile, Marco took it as a sign I was done talking and angled his body to turn off the light. Mine was already off, so his was the only source of light in the room.

“Marco…” I rolled my lips, watching as he stopped and looked back at me. “How do you not know?”

Cracking his neck, he patted his hand on my knee, and I could still feel his warmth through the fabric. “No one’s ever reported back to me.”

I nodded. “I think I can sleep now.” Literally not at all.

He withdrew his hand, grinning. “Great. Night.”