MARX GIRL
Releasing December 10, 2017
Prologue
Kamala
“Don’t look at me like you want me… not if you don’t,” I murmur into the silence.
He sits back and readjusts himself in his pants. His dark eyes hold mine, yet he doesn’t answer me.
The water laps around me as I lie on the inflatable mattress, floating around the pool in my white string bikini. The sun is just setting, and everyone has disappeared to go get ready for dinner.
We’re alone.
His eyes are locked on me from his poolside deckchair position.
He has no right to look at me, to watch me with wanting eyes.
But he does.
And I still like it.
Ben is my sister’s family’s bodyguard and the head of their security.
Things are difficult between us, to say the least.
The attraction between us wasn’t supposed to happen, but forbidden never felt so good.
Six-foot-three-inches tall with sandy hair, honey-brown eyes, and large, muscular physique, he’s a by-product of being ex-military.
Ben Statham is one hell of a man.
From the lingering looks, the clenching deep in my sex when he looks at me, the smouldering fire whenever he would sneak into my room late at night…
It led to our story beginning six months ago, when my sister Natasha became involved with her then-boyfriend, Joshua Stanton.
I was always with Tash and Ben was always with Josh. We came together through circumstance. Acquaintances and nothing more.
He was the strong man at the back of the crowd, watching over everyone.
I was busy watching him.
The rest of the world was concentrating on my beloved sister and Joshua’s blossoming relationship.
I was concentrating on fighting the attraction, but the pull to him only grew day by day.
Laughter turned to conversation, conversation introduced lingering looks, and lingering looks turned to goose bumps, until one day in the kitchen pantry it happened.
Ben kissed me.
It was the most perfect kiss I’ve ever had.
It was sweet, sexy, and it opened a world of passion I never even knew existed.
For three weeks we snuck a kiss in where we could until, in a moment of foggy passion, I asked him to come to my room after everyone went to sleep that night.
He did.
We made love. Story book love.
The perfection we’d created carried on for six weeks, until tragedy struck our family. As the head of security Ben blamed himself, and pulled away from me.
When I needed him the most, he was nowhere around to offer support.
We’ve hardly spoken since.
And now we’re here on a family vacation in Kamala, Thailand.
My feelings for him haven’t changed.
He’s still the head of security.
I’m still his boss’ sister-in-law.
But he left me when I needed him the most, and I won’t forget that in a hurry.
Our eyes are locked.
“Why would you think I don’t want you?” he whispers in his heavy South African accent.
I frown, unsure how to answer. Eventually I reply, “Do you?”
He sips his beer, contemplating the right way to answer.
I run my fingers through the water beneath me as I try to articulate my thoughts.
I don’t know what’s going on with us, but I do know I can’t stand feeling the way I feel.
I can’t go on without him giving me the answers I need. He’s a strong man who doesn’t show his true feelings, but what happened to us? How do you go from passionate lovers to being nothing without even a conversation?
There was no fight, no discussion. Just silence.
He doesn’t answer my question. His jaw clenches as his gaze holds mine, my eyes search his.
What the fuck is going on with him?
Does he want me to beg?
Answer me, damn it.
I climb off the inflatable mattress and make my way to the pool steps. I want to be the one who ends the conversation, not the other way around.
Who was I kidding?
I’m the only one in this conversation. I slowly walk out of the pool, and his hungry gaze drops down my body. I bend and pick up my towel to wrap it around my waist, and with one last lingering look I walk inside.
His refusal to address our issues infuriates me.
It hurts me, and it makes me wonder if everything we shared was some kind of illusion.
I know he’s strong. I know he’s not a talker. But those nights in his arms were filled with tenderness and love.
Where is that man?
Because I want him back.
I lie in the darkness at 1:00 a.m. The sound of the ocean drifts through the room and the soft breeze rolls over my body. As usual, I’m torturing myself with thoughts of Ben Statham and his beautiful body. Where is he now? Is he asleep?
The last time we were together I told him I loved him. I never meant to, but I couldn’t help it. I was all soft and emotional from my orgasm-high, and the words just slipped out.
Is that why he ran?
I blow out a deep breath and stare at the ceiling as I go over that last night we spent together for the ten-thousandth time.
If I knew it was to be our last night together I would have done more, said more,
done anything to make him stay.
The door opens, and I roll over. My heart catches in my chest.
“Ben,” I whisper.
He walks in and closes the door behind him, his hands clenching at his sides. He seems nervous.
I frown into the diluted light as I watch him.
“I wanted to see you,” he whispers.
I lie still. He can do the talking this time.
“I look at you like I want you…” He pauses, and clenches his hands at his sides. “Because I do,” he whispers.
I frown.
“You have no idea how badly I want you, Bridget, or how hard it is for me to stay away.”
“Then why? Why are you doing this to us?” I whisper.
He sits on the side of the bed and cups my face in his hands, his eyes searching mine in the moonlit room as his thumb gently dusts over my bottom lip. He hesitates, and frowns as if pained. “I’m not who you think I am.”
I sit up, resting on my elbow, and I frown as I watch him. “Are you married?” I whisper. Oh, no. My heart starts to hammer. He has a whole other life in South Africa, doesn’t he? I have no idea what’s going on at home for him.
He shakes his head, and a soft smile crosses his face. “No, I’m not married.” He frowns harder, and leans in to kiss me softly. “But I’m unavailable to give you my heart.”
Tears fill my eyes.
He shakes his head. “Please.” He pauses. “Know that I love you, Bridget.”
“Ben,” I whisper. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”
He leans in and sweeps his tongue gently between my lips, and I scrunch my face up to fight the tears.
It’s there again; the urge to tell him that I love him.
This man makes me so weak.
I sit up and wrap my arms around his broad shoulders. We kiss slowly, and I feel my arousal start to rise.
“I’ve come to say goodbye,” he whispers against my lips.
“What?” My eyes search his again. “But you said—”
He cuts me off. “I can’t be who you want me to be, Bridget.”
“Yes, you can, Ben. You’re who I want,” I whisper angrily. Damn it, I hate this sneaking around shit. I can’t even raise my voice the way I want to.
He runs his thumb over my cheekbone as he studies my face. “I have a past, Didge, one that I don’t want to ever catch up with you. I won’t bring that into your life.”
I shake my head. “What are you talking about? We all have pasts. We can work it out together, Ben.”
“Goodbye, Bridget,” he whispers sadly before he tries to stand, but I grab his wrist.
“No. Don’t go,” I beg as I lose control. “Don’t leave me. I love you.”
He bends and kisses me gently. “Remember me with love, angel.”
I stare at him through my tears.
“I love you,” he whispers.
With one last, lingering kiss, he stands and leaves my room without looking back.
I stare at the back of the door after it closes behind him.
No.
That didn’t just happen.
Despair fills me.
I curl into a ball. My heart physically hurts in my chest, and I weep.