Page 54 of So I'll Know
“Oh my God. Did you break it?”
“No, but the owner got mad.”
“Where are your shoes now?”
Marcus looks down, puzzled, as we start walking again. “I don’t know.”
“Gosh, you’re a menace when you’re stoned, baby.”
He glances at me, and I realize that I called himbaby. We walk in awkward silence for a while longer, and my foot starts to ache again beneath the wet bandage.
“Are you okay? You’re limping.”
He makes a move like he wants to carry me again, and I jump back. “I’m okay. It just stings, but I’ll live.”
He looks at me doubtfully and then licks his lips. “You should let me clean it again.”
“Yeah?” I give him an amused smile. “Was that a good experience for you?”
“I made you feel better, didn’t I?”
“Definitely.”
We climb the steps to the beach house’s yard, and Marcus stops. Several crows are perched on a nearby tree, sparse clusters of brown leaves barely clinging to the branches.
“If one group of crows is a murder and it’s joined by another group of crows, is it a double homicide?”
I burst out laughing. “Is that a joke?”
Marcus grins. “Well, sort of. But it also just makes sense.”
“Sure, it does.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MARCUS
My high is definitely wearing off.
And now that the filter between my mouth and brain is sliding back into place, I suspect that I said something I shouldn’t have.
My boots are also going to be a problem. I failed to pick them up after I tossed them at the crows, so hopefully they’re still hanging around the bookstore. Of course, now I’m completely embarrassed to go back there.
Seriously, what was I thinking?
We wipe off our sandy feet and enter the beach house. Jeremy peeks at me, his teal eyes unsure, and then looks down at his ruined clothes. He reaches for the top button of his shirt, but I stop him with a gentle hand.
“Let me.” Even though I’m not really as high anymore, I still feel lighter and more relaxed than I have in a really long time. And I don’t want to lose that yet. For once, I just want to do what I feel like doing. And what I feel like doing is helping Jeremy out of his clothing.
He swallows hard, the pale skin on his neck dipping with the movement. I intertwine our fingers and lead him to thebathroom. Jeremy stays quiet as I start with his top button and carefully work my way down, opening his shirt as I do. I admire the way the material contrasts with his perfect, pale skin as I push it off his shoulders. He shrugs out of it, letting it fall to the floor.
He wraps his arms around his torso, and something tugs in my chest. He’s normally so self-assured, so it’s strange seeing him like this—almost scared.
I reach for his pants next, asking for consent with my eyes. He nods slightly as I undo the top button and the fly and pull them gently down his legs. I know from our experience last night that Jeremy doesn’t want me to take off his boxers, and while I’m desperately curious to know why, I respect his boundaries.
I step back and remove my own sandy clothing, never taking my eyes from him. In the warm bathroom light, he looks like an alabaster statue. He’s slim but elegantly toned, his biceps curved and plump, and his abs gentle ridges that culminate in a delicate V-shape near the top of his boxers. And where I have hair all over the place, Jeremy’s body has miles of smooth skin that I’m itching to run my tongue over.
When I’m stripped to my boxers, I step forward and place my hand gently on his pec, feeling the rapid pace of his heart beneath my fingers.
