“Therapy for animals exists, but you’re right about the cost.”
I grinned and rolled onto my back, the nerves dying down slightly now that he was back.
“I think we’ll avoid it if we can.”
Mark leaned over me and gave Zeus an under-the-chin scratch that made him groan. “You’ve got an expensive bed in the corner, man. Why don’t you go and play with your toys for a bit?”
Reluctantly, Zeus ambled over to his bed and lay down with another groan, this time not sounding as happy as his first one had.
Seeing as how he was already lying on top of me, I opened my legs so that he could settle in between them.
With his weight on one elbow, Mark reached up and skimmed his thumb across my cheek. “This is my happy place. It feels like I’ve got no problems and stress in my life when we’re like this.”
I could understand that completely.
Taking a deep breath for courage, I admitted, “Any time I spend with you—just the two of us—makes the world disappear.” The second the words were out, I shut my mouth so quickly that my teeth hit each other. Then, for some ungodly reason, I put my hands over his ears. “Wait, forget you heard that. It was cheesy and weird and not what I meant to say.”
Mark looked surprised for a moment, but then his head tipped forward as he burst out laughing.
Shit, shit, shit.
Because of how we were lying, it felt like my whole bed was moving with the force of his laughter. Why had people paid for beds that vibrated back in the 70s? Or maybe it was the 80s? I just didn’t see the appeal of it. Wasn’t it like when you hit turbulence in a plane, and after you got off, your body was out of whack for a while?
Finally, he stopped laughing and lifted his head again. “I loved that.”
“Yeah, you could love it because you said something suave and awesome. I just sound like an idiot.”
One side of his mouth was still tipped up in a smile as he watched me, his eyes not missing one part of my face. “Yeah, but you’re my idiot, and I like hearing you say things like that.”
I rolled my eyes and thought back to the time he’d mentioned that he loved my nose. I’d tried to return the compliment and had told him I liked his ears. It was my reasoning why that’d highlighted my ability to be a romance goober extraordinaire—'because he listened with them.’
In its own way, it was romantic because I’d meant he listened to me and gave a shit about what I was saying, but could I get those words right? No.
Lowering his head until his nose brushed against mine, he whispered, “I remember everything you said to me. Every time you tried to say something romantic, and it went wrong, is seared into my brain. I don’t care if other people don’t find them romantic. They don’t know you like I do, so they wouldn’t get what you meant, and explaining it would take some of the romance away from it.”
Running his nose gently down the side of mine, he stopped when his lips were just touching mine. “Don’t ever change, Layla Montgomery. I love you just as you are.”
Could your heart break with happiness? Like just crack into pieces like confetti?
“I’ll do my best. But one day I’m going to get it right and knock your socks off.”
I couldn’t stand the infinitesimal distance between our mouths anymore and leaned up to kiss him. Instead of taking over, he let me take the lead on the kiss, something I hadn’t known I needed. There was still an air of uncertainty between us—Jesus, how could there not be?—and being in charge of this kiss, in this situation, made me feel like I still had control over myself. It gave me some security that I hadn’t realized I needed.
Flicking the tip of my tongue over his upper lip, I remembered the first time we’d kissed. There’d been no tongues, just him kissing me and assuring me he was mine while we were on vacation with our families in Bimini.
When he opened his mouth, and I got to taste him for the first time in four years, I moaned.
“I know, baby,” he murmured against my lips, only pulling away far enough to say the three words before he kissed me even harder and took over.
I was happy to relinquish control by this point. In fact, I wanted him to take it back. Mark’s version of control was out of this world.
As he kissed me, he skimmed his hand down my side until he met where the fabric of the nightie ended on my thigh. In slow, methodical movements, he dragged the palm of his hand back up again, then wrapped his fingers around one side with his thumb on the inside of my leg and moved them under the material.
I’d just wrapped my other leg around the back of his thighs when he lifted his head and stared down at me. “Still okay?”
I could feel that I was shaking, but it wasn’t out of nerves. I was excited as hell.
“I need you to hurry it up,” I begged him.