Page 108 of Checkmate
Plenty of times Marcus had said her name, intending to start a discussion, only to chicken out.
It wasn’t the outcome of the conversation that he was nervous about. He was sure she felt the same things he felt. If he tried to change their relationship, he didn’t think she’d turn him down.
But as much as he may want that, it was too soon. He needed more time to heal from Sophie, and he was sure it was the same for Erica.
Instinct told him that once they crossed that boundary, there would be no going back. Things would move fast, and they’d be intense.
If he crossed that boundary, he was signing up for something permanent, and he knew it.
Neither of them was ready for something like that.
But it didn’t stop the longing he held for her. The need to be close to her. Even now, knowing she was asleep, he wanted to wake her up just to see her smile.
With that thought in mind, he threw the blankets off and left the room. Padding down the corridor, he passed her sleeping form on his way to the kitchen, averting his eyes.
The one tiny problem he found about having Erica around was her complete lack of clothing. She had grabbed a few things thrown hastily into a suitcase, but she was fast running out of clothes.
He had offered her a couple of his old shirts. It felt like a good idea at the time. But once he saw her in them, he almost asked for them back.
He couldn’t avoid the fact: Erica was stunningly beautiful. She had the elegance only seen in old Hollywood movies. The sight of her in his clothes, with legs that seemed to never end, was a temptation he hadn’t expected. At least, not to that degree. He wasn’t some horny teenager who couldn’t control himself around a pretty girl.
But Erica was not just any pretty girl.
He worked silently, keeping his back to the living room. He could picture Erica there as she slept, the blanket wrapped around her, tousling her hair. And with far too much skin on display. It was hard enough to resist the image he had created in his head. He would have no chance with the real thing.
He grabbed a mixing bowl and made a start on breakfast, humming a nonsensical tune. He’d barely whisked up the eggs when Erica cleared her voice from behind him. “Morning. Is there any coffee?”
He turned to look at her, his mouth running dry. He pointed towards the coffee machine, not daring to speak.
Good God, she looked incredible.
“You need help?” She asked, rolling up her sleeves as she grabbed two mugs.
“No. You’re supposed to be sleeping, so I can surprise you with my impeccable hosting skills.” She looked over at him, frowning. “You’re dopey in the morning. I was going to make you breakfast in bed.”
Realisation dawned in her eyes as she spread a soft smile before flashing him an impish grin.
“Ah, but you’re forgetting something,” she said as she snatched a pack of bacon before he could stop her. “I had plans to surprise you with my impeccable guest skills.”
“Guests don’t need skills,” he challenged, feeling a smile break out over his face. “They need to sit down, shut up, and enjoy being taken care of.”
She wrinkled her nose and sighed dramatically. “If you insist. But if that’s the case, the host needs to learn to deal with rebellion.”
He looked over his shoulder, intent on asking her to clarify. He was too slow to react to the egg rushing towards his forehead. Cold slime dripped down his face. Erica stood half-amused and half-unsure with the shell still in her hand.
Had she really done that?
“Did you just smash an egg on my head?” She released a small giggle, quickly covering her mouth with her hand. He placed the mixing bowl on the countertop, reaching for the bottle of syrup. He’d planned to make her pancakes. Now he was out for revenge. “Take this!”
He squirted the bottle at her, only to frown as she held a pan up in front of her face. How had she managed to grab that so fast?
“Too slow!” She laughed fully, reaching for the pancake batter. Sensing her intent, he grabbed the other side of the bowl. She dropped the pan, which fell to the floor with a loud bang. Neither of them flinched. They locked their eyes on each other, each with an equal grip on the bowl.
“This is no way to treat your guest, Marcus,” she said, with a warning in her tone.
“This is no way to thank your host, Erica,” he replied in the same warning tone. She smirked at him, tugging on her side. He smirked back, tugging harder. Chaos ensued as neither backed down, each fighting for dominance over the bowl. She twisted her hands, trying to tip it over him. He pushed the bowl towards her, trying to pour the mixture over her.
Of course, there could be no winners in a fight like this. Before long, their play fight backfired on them. The bowl fell from their hands and smashed on the floor below. It showered them in thick pancake batter.
