“Those are peanut butter crackers.”
“I call them nabs.”
“Why?”
I shrug. “That’s what I’ve always called them; that’s what I’ve always heard other people call them.” I fix two glasses of sweet tea and we sit at the table. Marc is munching on those pork rinds, so I think it’s safe to say he really does like them. But then, he puts them away, downs the sweet tea, and stares at me. I push away what’s left of the crackers. Am I supposed to be the one to talk first? What am I supposed to say? Do I even know any words?
“Elizabeth?”
I lift my head, not even realizing I lowered my gaze to my glass of tea.
“Nothing’s changed. I’m sorry for leaving like I did and for worrying you, but we’re okay. Just don’t ignore me anymore. That’s all I’m asking. If you need space, say so.”
“I can do that.”
“Good. Do you know what I think now?”
“What?”
“That you should get over here and kiss me. It’s been a long week, and during that long week the only person I’ve wanted to kiss or have flash me has done neither.” Marc grabs my hand and pulls me to come straddle his lap.
“Has something else happened?” I ask. There’s just something about his tone that makes me think I’m not the only reason he’s had a long week.
He wraps his arms around my waist with a sigh. “I talked to my dad, who wants to see me, and I don’t want to see him. That’s it. Nothing to worry about.”
“But you are worried.”
It’s clear as day in those blue eyes. Marc nods. “He was going to show up unannounced on Christmas. I keep thinking about how that would’ve ruined our good day.”
“But he didn’t and our day was fine.”
“I don’t want him anywhere near me, so I for damn sure don’t want him anywhere near you.”
The question is on the tip of my tongue, but I’m not sure if I should ask. Marc made it clear he would share what he was comfortable with when he wanted. If I ask and he doesn’t answer... I don’t want to be disappointed.
“He’s not a good person, Elizabeth,” he whispers, as if answering my unspoken question.
“You turned out great, though.”
“And that was a fucking miracle.”
Wow. That speaks volumes. He glances away and then suddenly kisses me. My hands slide down his chest to his stomach, feeling the buttons of his shirt against my thumbs, because they lose strength as his tongue assaults mine. He’s the best kisser ever. There’s so much need being conveyed as his arms tighten to bend my back and pull me closer. This is happiness. Marc slows the kiss down, nearly killing me with his leisurely pace, because all it does is cause my heart to beat faster, my breathing to shallow, and the urge to lower my hands further to start undressing him to rise.
Marc pulls away to kiss me on the nose, which totally confuses me in my hot and bothered dazed state. “We’re a little late, but happy New Year.”
I look over my shoulder at the clock on the oven. Ten past midnight. “Happy New Year.”
“Do you know what the best way to start the new year is?”
Instead of answering, I grab the hem of my shirt and quickly pull it off. Marc is grinning when I toss it aside.
“You do know.” His rough hands are already exploring the exposed skin and plucking my bra off while I start unbuttoning his shirt. His hands come to an abrupt stop when my stomach growls. Loudly. Like, he could’ve heard it in the living room it’s so loud. “Did you eat dinner, Elizabeth?”
“I’m half naked; I’m trying to get you naked. Who cares?”
He rolls his eyes, takes off his suit jacket and his shirt, leaving him only in an undershirt, and places the shirt over me. He fastens three buttons and taps my rear. “Hop up.”
“Marc,” I start.