32
I paused in the doorway on my return to the bedroom.
Wow. Well, that was quite a sight. Marc had said he wanted a portrait of me. Maybe we could request a his-and-hers deal.
Marc lay on his back in the center of my bed, like he owned it. The thought sent a thrill of pleasure through me. The white sheets contrasted his olive skin and the morning sun coming in the window highlighted the contours of his abs and chest. My gaze hovered to where the sheet lay on his hips, preserving his dignity, but only just.
“You’re staring.”
Oops. Sprung. “You’re awake. I thought you were asleep.”
“I always sleep with one eye open. Habit.”
“From the Marines?” I walked into the room and sat on the edge of the bed, my fingers itching to pull down the sheet. I felt my skin heat at the way his eyes took in the sheer slip of fabric I was wearing. I’d put it on this morning when he was still asleep. Now that I saw his appreciative expression, I was glad I had.
‘Yeah. It’s kind of a nice change to be woken by a horny woman.”
“Who said I was horny?”
His lips curled in the most deliciously evil grin. “I know a horny woman when I see one.”
“Oh, really? Maybe I was wondering how to get my bed back.”
“No, you weren’t. You were thinking of pulling down the sheet.”
My face flushed and I laughed. God, had I been that obvious? “I thought I was a better actress than that.”
“You like that you don’t have to act around me.”
My smile faded. “True.” And I certainly hadn’t been acting last night. That had been one hundred percent heartfelt.
“Does that bother you?” His dark eyes were measuring me in that way he had.
“What? No.” I fingered the edge of the sheet. “It’s just new to me, I guess.” And it was. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so exposed and accepted as I did last night.
“Better get used to it, Princess.”
The warm feeling returned and so did my smile. “I think I can handle that. You?”
“I’m not going anywhere.” As if to prove his point, he put his hands behind his head drawing my eyes to his bulging biceps.
“Where do you live, anyway?” Until now, I hadn’t had much time to think about things like that. I’d been too busy trying to figure him out and stop denying my feelings for him. Now I was keen to learn more.
“A small condo in Santa Monica within walking distance of the beach.”
“Do you like the beach?”
“I grew up surfing.”
I thought about it for a second and had to admit it fit. “Do you still surf?”
“Not as much as I’d like.”
“Where’s your office?”
He raised his eyebrows. “What? You think because you have sex with me I’ll reveal all my secrets?”
My mouth fell open and he laughed, a soft, low rumble that made my stomach flip.
“I’m joking, Lena. Our office is in Downtown LA. What else would you like to know?”
I suddenly felt like a kid in a candy store. I wanted to know everything about him. All of it, and it was hard to know where to start, but one question nagged at me. “Is that why you were always so . . . reserved? Because I was a client?”
“You mean I was a cold, hard bastard to you?” I saw something flash in his eyes when he said it. Now I knew him better I recognized it as discomfort.
“Well, I didn’t say it, you did. But yes, your client relations were . . . a little on the cold side.”
Marc grimaced. “It was necessary.”
“Why?” Maybe I was naïve, but I couldn’t fathom why he would try so hard to distance himself.
He sat up and to my disappointment, took the sheet with him. “What do you know about the Marines?”
“Not too much. Just that you’re different from the regular army.”
He nodded. “What about the training?”
“It’s tough?” I shrugged, feeling embarrassed that I knew very little about the men who protected our country.
“It’s the toughest of all the military branches. Physically, you have to be at peak fitness, but it’s mental, too.” Marc tapped a finger to the side of his head. “It’s like a complete reboot. I walked in a young, rebellious kid and came out a disciplined killer.”
I swallowed at the hard look in his eyes and hesitated before I asked my next question, not sure if I wanted to know the answer. “Is that why you wanted to become a Marine?”
“To kill? No. I wanted to protect, to do something worthy. For weeks on end the Drill Instructors abused us until they were satisfied we had what it takes.”
“Abuse you?” Marc wasn’t the sort of guy who exaggerated, but that sounded kind of harsh.
“Verbal abuse, tirades, physical demands that showed no mercy. It’s unrelenting.”
“Why would you put yourself through that?”
He tilted his head thoughtfully. “I could ask you the same question: why do you put yourself through the constant media abuse and risks to your safety? Because you feel you’re doing something worthy.”
It was the first time I had heard Marc hint at the fact I was doing something meaningful, but we weren’t talking about me. I wanted to take this chance to learn more about him. “How did you survive?”
“Despite the constant abuse, I liked the discipline. It made sense to me. I even grew to rely on the abuse.”
“That sounds . . . ”
“Sick? It’s not. It’s proven that responding to orders in times of stress can be the difference between living or dying. There’s no panic, just orders and training you know you can rely on. Like I said, it’s a total reboot. And quite ironic for a high school rebel like me.”
“You liked the discipline,” I said, understanding him a little bit more.
“I still do. It’s why I’m tough with some of my clients when the situation calls for it.”
My eyes widened. “You’re like the Drill Instructor. But why?”
Marc looked down at my hands and threaded his fingers through mine. “When we’re training, the Drill Instructors are the enemy. They’re not on our side. They’re trying to break us to see if we can survive, because when we’re on the ground, the enemy sure as hell aren’t going to show us any mercy.”
“You were deliberately hard on me,” I said, beginning to understand.
He nodded. “Because I had to be. It was better you thought of me as the enemy rather than picturing some faceless evil coming to get you.”
“You could have been reassuring and sympathetic,” I suggested, and laughed when Marc winced. “Not your style, I know. But this is Hollywood, Marc, not the Marines.”
“My adjustment issues aside, it works, Lena. You spent most of the time pissed at me instead of scared shitless. Your survival instincts kicked in to my imaginary threat.”
My mouth dropped open and I punched him in the arm. I’d like to say it was soft, but it wasn’t. I knew he could take it.
He gave me a cocky grin. “It worked, didn’t it?”
“But I thought I hated you!”
He reached over and rubbed his thumb across my cheek. “Better you hate me than be scared, Princess.”
He leaned in and gave me the sweetest of kisses and I almost let myself be carried away by the moment, but forced myself to ease away. “Marc?”
“Yeah?” He was still rubbing his thumb across my skin and contemplating my lips like he wanted to eat me up.
“When did you stop hating me?”
His thumb stilled and he looked at me properly. “Lena, I never hated you.”
“Never?”
“Never,” he said firmly. “You drove me crazy sometimes when you didn’t do what you were told, but I never hated you.”
I smiled at the memory. “I wouldn’t make a very good Marine.”
“No, you wouldn’t, but you make a damn fine actress and I’m sorry I haven’t said it sooner.”
I nodded, feeling all choked up. “Thank you. When did you start having feelings for me? Maybe you’d make a good actor after all.”
He blinked as if he appeared surprised by the question, then stroked my cheek again. “It was no one time. I guess you kind of grew on me. You?”
“I’m not sure either,” I answered honestly, then grinned. “Although maybe it was when I saw you stride across the beach in those ridiculous tight shorts during filming that day.”
He grinned back then gave me a light slap on my backside, making me cry out.
“You love me for my body, is that what you’re saying?”
“Well, you do have a fine body . . . ”
“Alright, then. Why don’t you come here and make good use of it?”
Our grins faded and he pulled me on top of him, and that was how we spent the rest of the morning.