Chapter 3

Dad left just after lunch, muttering about a golf game he couldn’t miss.

That left me. Alone in the house.

Or at least, I thought I was alone — until I heard the low rumble of a voice in the kitchen.

Marcus.

I froze halfway down the stairs, fingers gripping the railing. Of course he was still here. Of course he’d find a reason to linger.

My body reacted before my brain could stop it — that rush of heat, that tug low in my stomach. Dangerous. Addictive.

I should’ve gone back upstairs, locked my door, stayed out of his way. But my feet betrayed me, carrying me straight into the kitchen.

He was standing at the counter, sleeves still rolled, tie abandoned, collar open at his throat. Casual in a way I’d never seen him before. His jacket was draped over a chair, and without it, the sheer breadth of his shoulders was impossible to ignore.

He turned the second I entered, like he’d been waiting.

“Your father’s gone,” he said.

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.

I nodded, throat dry. “Yeah. Golf.”

Silence stretched. Heavy. Electric.

Then, slowly, he set his glass down, the clink loud in the stillness.

“You shouldn’t look at me the way you do.”

The words hit me like a spark to gasoline. My pulse jumped, my lips parted — but no sound came out.

“I don’t—” I started, but it was weak, breathless.

He stepped closer. Not much, just enough that I caught that clean, intoxicating scent of him again. My back nearly hit the counter.

“Yes, you do,” he murmured. “You think I don’t notice, but I do. Every time your eyes linger. Every time you flush when I speak to you.”

My breath tangled in my chest. “That’s… that’s not—”

“Wrong?” His gaze burned into mine. “It is. It’s the most wrong thing in the world.” His jaw tightened. “Your father is my closest friend. I promised him I’d protect you.”

I swallowed hard. My hands gripped the edge of the counter, knuckles white. “Then why are you here?”

His eyes darkened.

For a moment, I thought he’d step back. That he’d end it right there, that he’d walk away and prove I was imagining everything.

But instead, his hand came up, brushing a stray strand of hair from my cheek. The touch was so gentle, so deliberate, I shivered.

“Because,” he said, voice low, raw, “there are some promises a man can’t keep.”

My knees nearly buckled.

The distance between us was gone now. His hand lingered by my jaw, thumb barely grazing my skin, his heat sinking into me like fire.

I wanted to lean in. God help me, I wanted to feel his mouth on mine.

But before I could move, before either of us could shatter that fragile line, the front door slammed.

“Kiddo? You home?” Dad’s voice rang through the hall.

I jolted back like I’d been burned, my heart ricocheting in my chest. Marcus’s hand fell away, his expression snapping back to cool, unreadable.

By the time Dad walked into the kitchen, grinning and oblivious, Marcus was already reaching for his jacket, composed as if nothing had happened at all.

But I knew.

I knew what almost had.

And I knew it wouldn’t be the last time.

Dad strolled into the kitchen, whistling off-key, a bag of golf balls in one hand. “Course was packed. Had to bail.”

My legs were trembling, but I forced a smile, hoping he couldn’t see the truth written all over my face.

Marcus was smooth as stone, slipping into his jacket like nothing had happened. “I was just heading out.”

Dad frowned. “You sure? Stay for dinner. It’s been too long.”

Marcus’s eyes flicked to mine, so brief I almost doubted it happened. Heat curled low in my stomach.

“Another time,” he said evenly. “I’ve got calls waiting.”

And just like that, he was gone — the front door clicking shut behind him, leaving silence in his wake.

⸻

I sank onto a chair, my chest still heaving. Dad didn’t notice, too busy rattling around the kitchen.

“Everything okay?” he asked, pulling out leftovers.

“Fine,” I lied quickly. Too quickly.

Because nothing about me was fine. My pulse still thrashed, my skin still tingled where Marcus’s fingers had brushed my cheek.

I excused myself before Dad could press further, climbing the stairs on shaky legs.

The second my bedroom door shut, I pressed my back against it, dragging in a deep breath.

It wasn’t in my head.

The way he’d touched me. The way he’d looked at me.

Marcus wanted me.

And worse — I wanted him back.

⸻

The rest of the day blurred by. Dad talked, laughed, made plans for the weekend. I smiled and nodded, pretending everything was normal. But underneath, my thoughts spun in dangerous circles.

Every time I passed the front window, I half expected to see Marcus’s sleek black car.

Every time my phone buzzed, I wished it was him.

God, what was wrong with me?

By evening, I couldn’t take the walls of my room anymore. I slipped outside, padding barefoot across the cool grass, hoping the night air would clear my head.

The stars were sharp and bright above me. I tipped my face to them, breathing deep.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

The voice slid through the dark like velvet.

I spun.

Marcus.

He stood by the edge of the porch, hands in his pockets, jacket gone, white shirt open at the collar. Shadows carved across his face, making him look even more dangerous.

My heart leapt. “What are you doing here?”

His gaze held mine, steady. “I couldn’t stay away.”

The words sank into me like a stone dropped in water, rippling outward, unstoppable.

I should’ve run inside. I should’ve screamed, told him to leave, told him this was wrong.

But I didn’t.

I stepped closer.

So did he.

The distance between us shrank until the night was heavy with the scent of him, the warmth of him, the crackling awareness that one more step would destroy everything.

“You’re playing with fire,” he murmured.

“Then let it burn,” I whispered.

For one agonizing heartbeat, his hand lifted, hovering near my face, my lips parting in anticipation—

And then he cursed under his breath, stepping back like he’d been scalded.

“No,” he growled. His jaw clenched. “Not tonight.”

Before I could breathe, before I could beg, he turned, disappearing into the shadows without another word.

I stood frozen, heart thundering, body aching with everything that almost happened.

And with the terrifying truth that sooner or later, one of us would stop pulling away.