Page 56

Story: A Secret Escape

I drop the hoodie on the bed and turn away from him, lifting my arm to move the hair off my back. “Can you unzip me?”
Warmth heats my back as he steps towards me, his lips caressing my neck as he pulls the zipper down.
Feeling the fabric loosen, I turn back to face him, holding the dress up for a moment before letting it drop to the floor.
His chest rises and falls with heavy breaths as he takes me in, running his hand from my shoulder, down my arm and across to my waist.
“You are so beautiful.” His eyes linger on my breasts for a long moment before coming back up to meet my eyes.
My legs threaten to give out from underneath me at any moment, my insides feeling like molten lava pooling at my core. I wrap my arms around his waist, pressing up against him as I snuggle my face into his warm hoodie. His hands feel hot against my skin as they glide along my back.
We stand in the embrace for several moments, neither wanting to pull away. Marcus buries his face in my hair, breathing me in deeply as I try to memorise the scent of his clothes. It’s different from his cologne, which smells of sandalwood and nutmeg. The smell of his clothes is rustic, with hints of wood, sweat, and something else I can’t identify, but it makes me feel safe and warm.
Finally, he lifts his head, a slow sigh escaping into the quiet air. “Coffee?” he asks, his smile gentle and soft, making my heart ache. I wipe away a tear that had welled up in the corner of my eye, a hurricane of emotions swirling like a storm inside me.
Two years of fantasising about him. Being on a high that lasts all day every time I bump into him in the coffee shop. The excitement of seeing him at Sapphire. The rush I felt when I kissed him. The incredible feeling when he asked me out. The nervous excitement all week leading up to tonight. The electric shock I felt when his lips met mine again.
And the indescribable release he just gave me. Twice.
And now, slowly, the reappearance of fear that starts to creep back in, tightening in my chest, then sinking to the pit of my stomach as the burning image of the eyes grows brighter in my mind.
I take a deep breath, a wave of cold air chilling my skin as I step back from Marcus’s warmth. I reach for the grey hoodie and pull it over my head, instantly feeling enveloped in a warm hug as Marcus’s scent wraps around me and the soft fabric cuddles my skin. “I love this,” I smile, wrapping my arms around myself to hug it close.
“It suits you.” He pulls a set of black joggers from his wardrobe similar to the ones he’s wearing. “Try these, hopefully they should be alright.”
I lean against the bed, sliding my legs into them. The waistband is loose but I fold it over twice and it rests comfortably on my hips. The bottoms drag on the floor, but they are warm and snug. “Just right.”
Chapter 25
Marcus
There’s something about seeing Lila wearing my clothes that fills me with warmth, pulling at a part of me I haven’t felt in a long time. It’s a feeling of comfort, but also… the feeling that she’s mine.
I shake my head, forcing myself back to reality, but my lips find hers again, lingering for a long moment before I pry myself off her.
The smile on her face sends a fucking maelstrom of emotions swirling through me, scrambling my thoughts, but despite the whirlwind in my head, my heart appears to settle into an unexpected calm.
“Come on,” I say, giving her hand a quick squeeze.
Walking back down the stairs, the worry that had been temporarily pushed aside hits me like a wave, as though it had all been left here in the hallway, and now I was stepping back into it.
It was supposed to be the perfect evening, the perfect date, but somehow, everything has been turned upside down. I glimpse the wine glasses on the living room coffee table and my stomach churns. I head to the kitchen, Lila’s footsteps following behind.
I smile to myself as an image pops into my head of a small puppy following my every move, the soft patter of her feet on my floor.
She perches on a stool at the kitchen island as I fill the kettle.
I open the fridge and pull out a carton of the oat milk I made sure to have in stock. “Sorry I couldn’t find any caramel syrup,” I say. “Hopefully sugar is okay?”
She nods, smiling as she watches me make the drinks. I can feel her eyes on my hands as they tremble slightly pouring the water.
“I’m sorry,” Lila says softly.
I set the kettle down and look at her. There is a sadness in her eyes, her expression full of worry.
“What in the world are you sorry for?”
“I don’t know… I just… I hope… I mean, sorry if you didn’t want…”