9. CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER EIGHT

Leighton

L ying in this bed for minutes after Marcus walked out on me, trapped inside this room, I feel everything. The hurt and confusion. The constant need for him. The sick and fucked-up love.

Physically, I'm okay. The chafing in my wrists and ankles is bearable. My muscles aren't strained despite being tied up. The lack of sleep doesn't bother me either. Even my pussy isn't as sore as I thought it'd be.

My mind is the problem. Not only am I still trying to reconcile the two sides of Marcus I now know. Now, this house is messing with my head.

It's not just a place where people are supposed to live. It's a prison. Given what Marcus said, he's been planning to lock me up in here for years.

Except no one builds a prison with so much care and attention to detail. No one bothers making it look…cozy.

I cast my gaze around the dimly lit room for a second time since Marcus left me.

Two plush cream-colored armchairs in the corner of the room angled toward each other. Plaid red and white throw blankets are folded neatly on top of each one of them. Beneath the armchairs lies a shaggy, patterned rug. Between them, there's an antique coffee table made of heavy wood.

A low, white-washed bookstand has been placed next to one of the armchairs against the wall on the side closer to the bed.

There's nothing but miles and miles of sand ahead. And plants. I see both since Marcus made sure the glass wall is spotless.

A sharp pain slashes through my heart at the sight.

I might consider this to be a prison. I might be confused by it.

But Marcus doesn't see it that way. He designed this place to be a home.

This should've been his happy place. Ours.

I wish I could hate him. I wish I could with every fiber of my being.

I wish I could hate myself too. For kissing him back. For loving his brutality.

I wish all of this could've been easier. A black or white type of situation.

It isn't.

I've been obsessed with him for years. Have had secret dreams where he and I were together. Happy. Where we were so in love and had babies together. They'd have Ry as their protective and adoring stepsister. She loves kids.

No matter how difficult me being with her dad would be, she'd soften once we had kids.

In my dreams, life would've been perfect. My heart knew Marcus was the one for me.

That's not the case here, that much is obvious.

If only my heart would've been as rational. If only it didn't hurt for the future we'd never have now.

Marcus seems to think we can make it through this.

I don't share his optimism.

My fucking God, the man uses his words for a living. Why couldn't he have come up with a few goddamned sentences for me?

Leighton, I have feelings for you. I'm not looking to fuck around. It's you and me for the long haul. Let's find a way to make it work. I'll talk to Ry. She'll accept our relationship.

Why? Oh, right. He's a psycho.

Are you there, heart? Taking notes?

You fucking should.

Marcus had many opportunities to come clean. The time Rylan went out without me. When I was sick and stayed there alone with him. In the pool the other day when it was just the two of us.

Other times would've worked just the same. There were so many opportunities when Rylan was in the shower or talking over the phone with Milo—the phone calls I begged Milo to initiate so he'd get to know Rylan's sweet and funny soul. Which he has, to please me. Then that bastard would hang up and text me that he's in love with me.

But I digress.

During those moments when Rylan was occupied, Marcus could've called me to the side. Could've asked me if I was interested in him. It would've been painfully easy. He's admitted to knowing I liked him.

For years, I've been innocent enough to believe he missed my fluttering eyelashes or the crimson creeping up my throat whenever he was around. I'd been looking the other way, so he had no way of catching me. Right?

Wrong.

Why not just ask me out?

He's. A. Psycho.

Looking back, I recognize my naivete for what it truly was.

Stupidity. Blindness.

The signs were there. Not during my high school years. After that. That's when the subtle change happened. Like on that summer a year ago.

"Rylan." I waved her ringing phone at her. "I think you should get this."

She stopped right in the middle of the pool.

Ry and Marcus were competing to see who'd finish their forty laps first. Whereas Marcus had the advantage of his muscle power and longer limbs, Ry had ferocity and the drive to win.

She was beating his ass that day. I could tell because I couldn't keep my eyes off them .

Or more like, off him . Each stroke of his arm in and out of the pool water was pure art. His lips opened for air like he was parting them to kiss a lover. Then there was the water cascading on his back muscles.

Looking anywhere but him was borderline sacrilege.

"It's Milo?" She waded closer to the edge of the pool, talking in hushed tones so her dad wouldn't overhear her excitement over a boy.

Not that Marcus had ever cared about Milo sniffing around his daughter. The one time he'd growled at Milo was when he'd come too close to me. Back then, I'd figured Marcus simply saw his daughter in love and made sure Milo stayed faithful.

Back then, I'd been wrong.

I nodded my head emphatically, my smile matching Ry's.

"Eeep!" she shrieked, dragging herself out of the pool. Water dripped on her one-piece pink swimsuit. A strand of her dark hair fell out of her tight bun and clung to her forehead. She was a mess. A cute mess. "One…"

Before answering Milo's phone calls, Rylan had always counted to three.

"Ry, don't tell me you're letting me win." Marcus stood in the deep water, pushing his thick hair back up his head.

He looked at my best friend while I looked at him. At those serious black eyes twinkling in the sun, a rare hint of mischief shining through them.

"Two…" Ry whispered, wrapping a towel around herself while whipping back to look at her dad. "I'm just letting you rest so you'll have a fair chance, old man."

He shook his head. I had to press a hand to my mouth, suppressing a chuckle .

Rylan winked at me. "Three."

She snatched the phone from my hand and speed-walked inside, and I followed her with my gaze.

I wasn't the only one doing the following.

Without even seeing it, I sensed Marcus's attention on me. Hot and heavy. Making my heart swoop. Surely, that didn't mean anything, but still. I prayed hard for it to mean everything.

Fighting the urge to spin and watch him watching me was hard. I did, though, turning ever so slowly. Counting down like Ry.

Three… Two… One.

His playful expression vanished once our gazes collided. He was close to me. So close. He leaned his forearms on the ledge of the pool, head tilted up. The veins in his arms were accentuated beneath the sunlight, his muscles carved in stone.

Marcus's focus rested on me and not in a soothing kind of way. My skin prickled with awareness. With each passing second, I became more aware of how much skin I was baring to him. My floral bikini hid practically nothing.

I never realized just how much until that day. I loved it.

"What about you, Leighton?" He broke the silence first, his timbre voice low. More husky. "You think I'm old too?"

"No." I licked my lips, which were suddenly really, really dry.

His eyes flickered to my mouth, then quickly back up. "I am getting there, though."

Marcus was mature beyond his years, yes. Always responsible. Making sure Ry didn't live off pizza. He'd always be there to give us a ride to places when my parents were occupied.

He'd helped Rylan and me choose a college when my parents were too busy working eighty-hour weeks .

That didn't mean he was old. I loved him. He was just the right age.

"Please." Needing a reprieve from his intensity, I rolled my eyes. "You won't be an old man when you're eighty, Dr. Kingston. You're…" Perfect. "Not old."

"It's Marcus," he corrected me.

"See?" I pointed out. Feeling more at ease in his presence, I let my arms fall from my torso to my sides. "Dr. Kingston is old. Marcus isn't."

An unrecognizable emotion flashed across his face.

"Typical Leighton, kind and polite. That doesn't change the fact I'm forty." Marcus beckoned me to him with his finger. "Come here."

I lost the ability to breathe at his command. Come here? Come here and?

Was this finally the moment he admitted his undying love for me?

Rylan.

She'd be devastated if we'd surprise her like this. If her dad's arms would wrap around me and his lips would sear mine in a mind-numbing kiss.

He'd never do that to her. What was I even thinking?

"Umm."

His eyebrow cocked. Another second of silence would make this situation awkward.

"I don't know how to swim." I pinched my lips, hiding the triumphant smile at my excuse.

"That's exactly why I told you to come here." Marcus's words were a lasso he tossed and caught my brain with.

His eyes and penetrating glare were tugging me forward .

I didn't move. Until I did.

"I don't understand." Water sloshed onto my thighs and below my ass as I sat on the ledge. My feet were in the water regardless of what I understood or not.

Water scared me. I never got in. And yet, here I was.

"Next year, the both of you will leave for New York."

We discussed the move two years before either Ry or I landed a job there.

It was only temporary for Rylan. In five years, she'd come back to Santa Barbara with Milo as her husband. They'd have babies. Live in a house down the street from her dad.

I, on the other hand, hadn't been so sure I'd ever return. The idea of living far from my best friend and consequently her dad tightened my chest. But leaving my unrequited crush behind was what I needed. Even at the cost of missing out on barbecues and birthdays with my best friend.

"We will." I gulped as Marcus slid to where I was sitting. "There's time. Lots of it."

He gathered water in his palm and let the drops cascade down my knee. Such a harmless gesture. Such an erotic one.

"Time flies. I'm not getting any younger, as I mentioned. I'd like to help you, Leigh, before I get too…old." He pushed off the ledge and into the deep water. "We'll do this together. I can help you. That's what I do. Help people cope with their anxieties."

Another one of my past mistakes was thinking Marcus's offer was innocent. I blatantly ignored the dark, inviting edge of his tone.

He fooled me. Lied, pretending he gave a fuck about teaching me how to swim .

He tapped into my fear of water, of how I always thought I'd forget how to swim and drown. Marcus pretended as though he was strictly a psychiatrist caring for his daughter's best friend.

I was so nervous the water would fill my lungs and never get out. He'd heard me say it over dinner once and he used this information to draw me to him.

And it worked. When he offered to guide me through it for the first time, I wanted to say yes. Choked, I looked between his open arms and his face.

"You can trust me. I won't let go," he promised, his voice shifting into kind yet firm one. A trustworthy one. The liar. "I'll just walk while I hold you up in the water. Nothing more, nothing less. You won't even have to kick your feet at first. I'll make it easy and comfortable for you."

The scene felt so surreal to me. For years, I'd been so infatuated with this man.

I couldn't let him touch me. It would end in a disaster. I'd die. Dissolve into nothing and melt into the water.

My inexplicable fear took second place. Because the insistent fluttering in my stomach wouldn't let me be.

Marcus dipped his chin, his gaze inviting.

"I won't be swimming, though." My teeth grazed my bottom lip. "I'll lie there like a corpse. I'll fail you."

"You could never." His face hadn't warmed, but every part of him was an invitation. "It's okay to say no, Leighton. Considering it is a huge step too. I'm proud of you, no matter what."

His words liberated me. Empowered me. No one had taken that approach with me. Suddenly, the thought of floating in his arms scared me a whole lot less .

I could do it.

"Um, okay." I placed my hands on the floor, pushing and arching my back. Preparing to slip into the deep water. Into the arms of the man who'd catch me.

I was slow and hesitant, and thank fuck for that. I would've drowned otherwise.

As wet footsteps approached behind me, Marcus dropped his arms in a heartbeat. He drifted back, back, back to the far end of the pool.

Away from me.

"Rylan." He cast his gaze behind me.

At the time, I chalked it up to his love for Rylan. I was sure he wasn't into me. I just assumed he didn't want her to see anyone but her receiving his undivided attention.

She'd always been territorial of him. That much had been obvious to the three of us.

"You were right. I am old, Ry." Marcus pulled his toned body out of the pool, quickly grabbing a towel to tie over his teal swim trunks. "We'll do this again tomorrow?"

"Nope." She chuckled, messing my hair as she took her place beside me. I looked up, but she was smiling at him. "Tomorrow, Leigh and I are going to the beach."

My eyebrows lowered. "We are?"

"Yup. I need some fresh air." That comment was weird since Rylan hadn't complained about her dad smothering her before. "We're joining some people. We'll be back late."

"Cool," I agreed .

"Okay." Marcus's gaze shifted to the garden behind him before he looked at us. "I'm heading into town now. See you at dinner. Goodbye."

"Bye." Rylan and I waved at him.

Since that strange day, he hasn't been offering me swimming lessons. If our hands brushed, it was—stupid me thought—by mistake.

Everything's turned back to normal.

"Normal, my ass," I whisper in anger.

He's been planning this for who knows how long.

I've been an idiot not to see it coming.

I'm even a bigger idiot now. Because now I know.

And even though I do, I still want him.