Chapter 4

The night swallowed him whole. One moment Marcus was standing in front of me, so close I could feel the heat radiating from his skin, the next he was gone, leaving nothing but shadows and the wild beat of my heart.

I stood frozen on the porch, staring into the darkness where he had vanished. My chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths.

He had wanted me. I saw it in the way his hand hovered, in the way his voice roughened. He wanted me just as much as I wanted him.

And he had walked away.

I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to slow the frantic pounding. It didn’t help. Nothing could. My body was alive, humming with everything that almost happened.

When I finally stumbled back inside, the house felt too small, the walls pressing in on me. Upstairs, I shut my door, locking it even though Dad was the only one home. Even though the only person I really wanted to keep out… was Marcus.

I curled into bed, but sleep didn’t come. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face in the shadows, felt the ghost of his hand brushing my cheek. His words echoed like a dangerous mantra: Not tonight.

Not tonight. Which meant what? Tomorrow? Soon?

I buried my face in the pillow with a groan. This wasn’t just a crush. This wasn’t harmless. This was a wildfire waiting for a spark.

And I wasn’t sure I wanted to stop it.

⸻

By the time morning light bled through my curtains, my eyes were gritty with exhaustion. I dragged myself out of bed, splashed cold water on my face, and tried to look normal. Tried to pretend I hadn’t spent the night replaying every second of almost touching him.

But when I stepped into the kitchen, my stomach dropped.

Marcus was there.

Again.

He sat at the table across from my father, calm, collected, like he hadn’t nearly shattered both of us last night. A mug of coffee rested in his hand, his shirt crisp, his tie perfectly knotted. Business as usual.

Except his eyes found mine the second I entered.

And in that single glance, I knew.

He hadn’t forgotten either.

⸻

I forced myself to move, to pour juice, to sit at the table like nothing was wrong. Dad chatted about his golf buddies, oblivious. But Marcus’s gaze stayed heavy on me, burning with unspoken words.

Every sip of juice, every shift in my chair, I felt it.

When Dad turned to grab more toast, Marcus leaned forward just slightly, his voice so low only I could hear.

“Later.”

The same word he’d whispered yesterday.

This time, it wasn’t a promise. It was a warning.

I swallowed hard, heat coiling low in my stomach.

Because I knew, deep down, that “later” was coming.

And when it did, there would be no pulling back.

The rest of the morning crawled like molasses. Dad was in one of his chatty moods, filling the kitchen with stories about his golf buddies and some potential business deal he was excited about. I smiled, nodded, even laughed in the right places, but I didn’t hear a word.

Because Marcus was sitting across from me.

Every time I lifted my eyes, I caught him watching me. Not openly, not the way a man looks at a woman he’s free to want, but sideways, sharp, careful glances that lasted a second too long. Every brush of his gaze across my skin made heat crawl under my clothes.

And every single time I looked away, I heard that word again.

Later.

It pulsed like a drumbeat, louder than Dad’s stories, louder than the tick of the clock on the wall. Later. Later. Later.

I was drowning in it.

⸻

When Dad finally pushed back his chair and announced he needed to run into town, my body tensed like a string pulled too tight.

“Just a couple errands,” he said, reaching for his keys. “Won’t be long.”

Relief should have washed over me. Instead, my pulse stuttered.

Marcus didn’t move, didn’t make any excuse to leave. He just leaned back in his chair, calm, unreadable, like he’d known this was coming all along.

“You good here?” Dad asked him.

Marcus’s eyes flicked to mine, and for one dizzying second, it was like he was speaking directly to me when he answered.

“I’ll stay.”

My throat went dry.

Dad grinned, oblivious. “Keep an eye on the house. Back soon!”

And then he was gone, the front door shutting with a solid, final thud that reverberated through the silence he left behind.

⸻

I stood frozen by the counter, my hand still curled around a juice glass, though I wasn’t sure when I’d picked it up.

The air felt heavier now, like the walls themselves were holding their breath.

I turned slowly.

Marcus hadn’t moved. He sat in the same chair, one hand curled loosely around his coffee mug. But his gaze was locked on me, steady and unblinking, so intense it pinned me in place.

My chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths.

“You knew,” I whispered.

His brow arched, though the rest of his face remained carved from stone. “Knew what?”

“That he’d leave us alone,” I said, my voice shaking.

Something flickered in his eyes, something dark and dangerous, before he rose to his feet.

The movement was slow, deliberate, like a predator closing in. He didn’t rush, didn’t need to. His height filled the kitchen, his presence sucking the air from the room as he crossed the space between us.

My back hit the counter before I even realized I’d stepped away.

“Does it matter?” His voice was low, threaded with restraint and heat. “You’ve been waiting for this as much as I have.”

I wanted to deny it. To tell him he was wrong. To cling to innocence, to safety.

But my silence betrayed me. My silence confessed everything.

Heat rose to my cheeks, my heart thrashing against my ribs.

“You’re my father’s best friend,” I managed, the words trembling on my tongue. “This is wrong.”

“I know.” His hand lifted, fingers brushing along my jaw. The touch was light, almost reverent, and it shattered the last of my defenses. “But I can’t stay away from you.”

My pulse thundered. My lips parted.

For a moment, the world shrank to nothing but the warmth of his palm, the sharpness of his gaze, the terrifying certainty that I was about to step over a line I could never come back from.

And then he kissed me.