Page 47 of The Spare
He sat back in his original seat. “Feeling any better?”
I yawned. “I could have used a longer table nap.”
He laughed again.Thatsmile made me glad I was already sitting. The time we spent alone diverged from the atmosphere when we were with Xander and Henry. He was relaxed and affable. It made me wonder if this was what it would be like if I woke up here more often.
There was something about our back-and-forth that gave me a surge of confidence. “Why don’t I see that smile except on these rare occasions?”
He shrugged. “I guess I save them.”
For me?
It didn’t last long. His face changed the second we heard the door open and Henry being let in. His entire demeanor morphed, as if all the playfulness in him left his body. Maybe he was saving it for the next time we were alone.
Henry arrived at the table, took in my slightly disheveled appearance, and chuckled. “Drunk at a work event?”
Henry took a seat across from me.
“It was a party, and I was a perfect lady.” I looked over to Marcus. His serious and faux uninterested countenance was almost broken with a smile. “Right, Marcus?”
“Something like that.”
“So much so that you needed Marcus to take you home?” Henry countered.
Maybe Marcus wanted to take me home.
As if he read my mind, Marcus shot me a look. Fine, I wouldn’t say that.
But I wasn’t going to bite my tongue. Not my style. “Since you seem concerned about all the people I’ve inconvenienced, which is more of an imposition in your mind: me waking up in Marcus’s guestroom or my date's bedroom?”
Neither of them liked that. Two birds, one saucy comment. I was proud of myself.
“Henry, leave her alone. She’s hungover.” Marcus’s voice remained disinterested.
“You’re too nice to her,” Henry said offhandedly, as if I wasn’t there and couldn’t hear him.
It was met with an indifferent shrug from Marcus.
I suffered through them talking about work for a few minutes before deciding to head home to recover. Marcus’s gaze lingered on me as I left.
CHAPTER24
Marcus
Afew days after the New Year, I met Sloan at the airport’s private hangar to take my jet to London.
Sloan and I hadn’t spoken outside of a few texts to coordinate travel. I wasn’t sure what to expect. But as we boarded the jet and engaged in idle chit-chat, it seemed like she wanted to ignore what happened on New Year’s Eve.
The memory of her in that dress replayed on an endless loop. That, and the sound of her whispering my name. My mind wandered to all the ways I could make her call it, moan it, scream it until her voice was hoarse.
She remained quiet and sent a flurry of texts from her work phone as the crew readied for take-off. I found myself wishing to be interrupted from my work with sly banter.
“Oh, I forgot.” Her voice soothed the anxiety that began to mount that whatever we had going on was over now. She looked at me and clicked her phone screen off. Her eyes gleamed with playfulness, and a devious smile stole whatever air was left in my chest. “Thanks for the ride.”
There she is.I heaved a sigh, mostly of relief, at her terrible joke. “Not your best.”
“I’ll keep trying.” She winked and looked back at her phone.
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