Marcus stared at the ceiling of his bedroom in the blue-predawn light. Part of him wanted to roll over and just sleep in for once. But he knew that the woman one room over deserved better. In the few days since they’d gone swimming, he’d been aloof from her, doing his best to put distance between them. Because he knew that if she got any closer, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from taking a taste.

And he wasn’t sure he could stop with just one taste.

She was a civilian, one he was charged with protecting. She was wanted by a faction of the mob. It was unethical to get involved with her and it was unwise. It could only serve to distract him. And beyond that, he wasn’t looking to destroy another woman, which he was certain would happen with her. So there. Simple as pie. All he had to do was step back from her.

Marcus grabbed his earbuds and popped them in as he allowed himself just a few more minutes before he got up and started the day.

The problem was, the more distance he tried to put between them, the harder she seemed to be trying to get closer to him. He could tell that she was attempting to start a friendship with him. And he could sympathize with that. She barely understood why she was in this exile anyways and he was the only person she got to see every day. The woman was probably starving for human contact.

He didn’t want to be a jerk and freeze her out, but honestly, he couldn’t see any other way.

His fingers, however, moved of their own accord as he selected a song he hadn’t heard off of O Wolfgang’s latest album. Marcus was irritated as shit with Iris’s twin, and just the sound of his pitch perfect, manicured voice had Marcus wanting to punch through a wall. But he couldn’t resist the chance to experience the window into Iris’s mind. Each song was like a hidden message that she’d put out into the world through Owen.

And as many walls as he’d put up between them, Marcus found that he was still desperate to know her just a little bit better.

Marcus frowned as the lyrics of the first verse of this new song washed over him. They were sad. About betrayal. He shifted in the bed and looked out the window. Who had she been betrayed by? Her brother? No, the lyrics were unmistakably romantic. Marcus felt his hand tighten on the sheet next to him. She must have been betrayed by a lover.

He didn’t like that thought. Didn’t like it at all.

Marcus picked up his phone and scrolled through the song titles on the latest O Wolfgang album. He frowned when he realized that the first was entitled “Crush, Baby” and the last was entitled “Bittersweet Goodbye.” He realized that the album chronicled a relationship. Starting with a crush, falling in love in the middle of the album, betrayal in the last half and a few breakup songs at the end. Despite the title, “Bittersweet Goodbye” was a fast-paced, intense hard rocking break-up anthem that had been number one for damn near two months. Half the world had been able to relate to the rawness, the fury and pain and eventual acceptance of the end of a relationship.

Marcus flicked to a song at the beginning of the album. One of the bubbly, new crush songs. Yeah. This song had a compass. The lyrics were spot on and the melody accompanied perfectly. These songs were definitely written by a woman who had gone through all of this. Marcus gritted his teeth. Why did that bother him so much? Of course she’d been through this crap. She was in her late twenties and she was utterly gorgeous. Of course she’d been in relationships before.

He found himself selecting the song about betrayal again, entitled “Green Sweater.” Besides the title, the lyrics to the track were much more vague than any of the others on the album. It frustrated him because all the other songs were so specific they were almost like having a conversation with Iris. But with this one, she was guarded. There was so much emotion there that she’d obviously felt that she’d had to hold something else back, like the details. But it was the details that Marcus desperately wanted.

***

It was the first morning since they’d come to the beach house that Iris had beat Marcus downstairs. For some reason, that felt like a win.

He’d been distant from her for the last few days, since they’d gone swimming and Iris knew exactly why. She’d pushed too hard and too fast for information. Personal information. She was trying not to blame herself, because it wasn’t her fault that she didn’t really know how to make friends. But she did think it was a little bit pathetic that a 29-year-old woman had so little experience with befriending anyone. She was also a little embarrassed at how tongue-tied she kept getting around Agent Marinos. Marcus. He kept insisting that she call him by his first name.

The problem was that he was so handsome that everything, everything, felt intimate. Even calling him by his first name. She’d say it and find herself blushing, unable to look into those dark eyes. Or he’d absently put a little cream in her coffee and she’d find herself with a racing heart, heated and thrilled at the little gesture. Not that it meant anything to him.

No, he’d proven over the last week that she was little more than a job assignment to him. He’d thrown himself headlong into his work, trying like hell to figure out what the next move for the Kutros family would be. The chasm between them was growing, and Iris felt herself more and more out of her depth at how to get closer to him.

Being able to make coffee for him felt like a good place to start.

She couldn’t help but hum as she did it and it was the tingles up her arm, the tempo at her temple that first told her she was humming a new song. She almost groaned when she realized that it was literally the tenth Marcus-inspired song she’d written since she’d met him. The first ones had been you’re-really-handsome songs and thank-you-for-taking-care-of-me songs, and let’s-be-friends songs and wow-I-really-wanna-touch-you songs. And this one was what? A let-me-make-you-coffee song? Lord. She was starting to think that she really had it bad. She had it bad for someone who barely took the time to look at her these days.

“You wrote every song on the last album?”

His voice came from behind her and Iris definitely jumped, but it didn’t escape his notice that it wasn’t nearly as much as it used to be. She was getting much more comfortable around him. That made his chest swell as much as it sent alarm bells off. She shouldn’t be comfortable around him. Getting close to him wasn’t going to be good for her.

She turned around, a bright smile on her face that hit him right in the solar plexus. Even after he’d been such a distant jerk the last few days, she was still grinning that sunny little smile right at him.

“Every single one,” she said, handing him a cup of coffee in the mug he’d come to favor since they’d been there. “Here. I finally got to make you coffee.”

For some reason this made her cheeks go pink and he wasn’t sure why. But he had other mysteries to solve at the moment. He took a swig of the coffee and leaned back on the counter to watch her. She’d taken one step toward the door of the kitchen, probably to head to the music room, but seeing that he was leaning back, about to make conversation, she reversed and mirrored his pose, leaning against the counter opposite him.

“When you write a song, are they from your imagination?”

“Um, what do you mean?”

He was frustrated with himself. He was beating around the bush when he knew exactly what it was that he wanted to ask. He knew exactly what he needed answers too. “I mean, are your songs indicative of your actual life experiences.”

“Oh,” she nodded, understanding. “Yeah, totally. I can’t write a song unless it’s about something that I’m actually feeling or experiencing. I can’t make them up out of the blue. If you look back at O Wolfgang’s discography, it’s kind of like a road map of my life.”

“So, you wrote ‘Green Sweater’?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

Iris froze for a second before she set her coffee aside and planted her hands behind her, sliding herself up to sit on the counter, her socked feet swinging in front of her. She wore a longer, flowy white skirt and a petal pink sweater. The result was that she was one shapeless mass, but Marcus was grateful for that. He didn’t need any reminders of what she was shaped like under those clothes. The single glimpse he’d gotten was enough to be burned into his brain for a lifetime.

“Yeah…” she answered slowly, cocking her head to one side and picking up her coffee again.

“What’s it about?”

She furrowed a brow. “You couldn’t tell?”

He cleared his throat and crossed one ankle over the other. He could have sworn that she’d just looked at his bare feet and blushed, but that couldn’t be true, so he dismissed the thought.

“I understand that the song is about betrayal. By a lover?” The words felt like chalk in his mouth and their aftertaste went sour when she confirmed them with a short nod. “But I don’t understand why it’s called ‘Green Sweater’.”

“Oh,” she said as she pursed her lips for a second and set her coffee down. Her eyes were focused on something far away. “He was cheating on me. I found another woman’s green sweater in his bedroom. That’s, ah, how I figured it out.”

She didn’t notice that Marcus’s knuckles had gone white where he gripped the counter, or that his coffee cup shook as he set it carefully down. She was lost in her thoughts and brought one hand absently through her hair.

“I mean, honestly, now that I think back on it,” she continued. “Maybe he was right. Maybe it really wasn’t cheating.”

Marcus’s eyebrows shot into his hairline. “He was with another woman and he says it wasn’t cheating?”

Iris nodded, her eyes to the side, out toward the ocean. He wanted those eyes so badly. He needed their blue. He hated when she looked away from him.

“Well, he says that we weren’t technically together together, you know? Even though,” she bit her lip, “even though I thought we were. He says I was confused. And that I was getting all hurt over nothing.” She shrugged and her hair tumbled over her shoulder. “Maybe he was right.”

Marcus growled, low and deep in his throat. “He wasn’t right.”

Iris looked up at him, surprised by the ferocity of his tone. “No, I mean, these things can be complicated.”

“Was he older than you?”

“Yeah, ten years or so.”

“Had he been in relationships before?”

“Yes.”

“Had you?”

Iris blushed, hard, and dropped her eyes to the kitchen floor. It was because of this that she didn’t notice Marcus getting closer and closer to her. “Um. No. Not really. At all.”

Iris cursed herself for being such a dork. What kind of 29 year old had only ever been in one relationship? And one that she’d fumbled so badly? It was embarrassing that she’d misread Jet’s signals so much. Maybe he’d been right. That if she’d been more worldly, more experienced, she wouldn’t have misinterpreted what was going on between them so badly. Maybe she wouldn’t have felt so betrayed when she realized that he was sleeping with other people at the same time as he was with her. And now she was just laying all this out for Marcus? He was going to think she was such a naive newbie.

Iris jumped when his feet came into her line of sight, less than a foot from where she sat on the counter.

“Then he should have made it very clear for you exactly what he wanted, Iris.”

She shivered when he said her name.

“Well…” she started, fully intending to make excuses on Jet’s behalf, even though she wasn’t completely sure why.

“No,” Marcus shook his head, cutting her off. “This was not your fault.” He took another step closer. “And this guy was not right. He was older and more experienced. He should have taken care of you, Iris.”

Iris forced herself to meet his gaze, and the second that she did it was like she was trapped in his eyes. They were so dark and so much closer than they’d ever been before. She felt as if there was a surplus of gravity inside them; it was like she was getting sucked into him. She was dimly aware that she wasn’t breathing.

He was close enough now that she could feel the heat from his body on her bare knees. She wasn’t prepared for the moment when his warm, rough hand cupped her chin, but she didn’t jump. For the first time, she didn’t jump. Honestly, she melted into his touch. And it wasn’t a gentle touch. He was roughly holding her in place. His eyes burned. She felt vulnerable, exposed, and somehow, still completely safe.

“I don’t care about the technicalities of modern relationships,” he spat the words out with obvious disdain for the man who’d betrayed her. “If he had the honor of being with a woman like you, he should have been loyal at all costs. You deserve complete fidelity.”

Iris was frozen, ensnared, trapped, and she still hadn’t drawn breath. She realized, with something like a fist around her heart, that those dark eyes had fallen away from hers, that they were lingering somewhere near her mouth.

Oh Jesus. Was he about to kiss her? As potent as this crush on him had begun to be, it had never once occurred to her that he might kiss her. That he might want to. She suddenly had no idea what to do, how to handle that. She’d only kissed three people in her entire life and she was certain, into her bones, that kissing Marcus wasn’t going to be anything like that. Under his burning gaze, Iris suddenly felt completely naked. Observed. Caught. She was getting a lightheaded, dizzy spin and she wasn’t sure if it was his proximity or the fact that she’d apparently forgotten how to breathe.

But then his hand dropped from her chin and he was stepping away, putting a full three steps of space between them. Iris gasped in a breath and slid down from the counter immediately. Her legs were gummy beneath her and Marcus lunged forward to steady her with a strong hand at her elbow.

He cleared his throat as she tossed her eyes up to his, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. Iris straightened.

“It’s complicated. What happened with Jet.”

Marcus sneered. “Jet? Yikes.”

Iris couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Yeah, I always thought it was kind of a silly name.”

Her light, ringing bell of a laugh went a long way toward dulling the burning intensity inside Marcus. He couldn’t stand the idea that she blamed herself for her former lover’s shortcomings. And he also couldn’t stand the thought that whoever this dumbshit was, he’d thrown away the chance to treat her well. If things were different, if he wasn’t here with her under these circumstances. If he was a different, easier man…well, Marcus would currently be deep in the throes of worshipping this woman. From the top of her hair right down to the pink toenails he’d recently noticed she’d repainted. It infuriated him that there was someone out there who’d just thrown it all away. And what was worse, this dick had made her question herself in the process.

“How do you take a name like that seriously?” he asked, allowing a smile to curl his lips just the tiniest bit. He’d backed up enough that he reached his coffee on the opposite counter. He brought the mug to his lips.

“Um. Well, it was kind of hard to. It’s one of those names that doesn’t exactly inspire you to say it during, you know, amorous situations.”

Marcus felt twin spears of lust and rage at her comment. He really didn’t want to picture her moaning Jet’s name. And at the same time, he couldn’t help but picture her moaning his own name. He shifted his stance and immediately tried to wipe that picture from his mind.

Light. Keep it light, he commanded himself. He’d already been way too intense. “Yeah, like Clarence. Or Dwight. Not exactly sexy.”

Iris laughed. “Not that you’d want your parents to think about how, you know, moan-able your name would be, but still.”

Marcus laughed too, eyeing her over the rim of his coffee cup. A silence fell over them and they both felt off-kilter. It was almost like walking in on one another while they were changing or something. Too much too soon too unexpectedly.

“Well,” Iris cleared her throat. “I’m gonna be in the music room if you need me.”

“Sure,” Marcus cleared his throat and didn’t even try to stop himself from watching her go.

Iris was proud that her feet didn’t stumble on their way out of that heated, tense room. She couldn’t even begin to interpret what the hell had happened in there. He’d been so close to kissing her. She was sure of it.

Well, she considered. She supposed that he’d been trapped here just as long as she had. Maybe he was going just as stir crazy as she was. She doubted very much that it had been as long since he slept with someone. A year and a half for her, since she’d last been with Jet. But he was a man, with different needs, and she knew for a fact that he hadn’t had sex in at least two weeks. He was probably all riled up. Yeah. That was definitely it. He was just strung too tight right now. That explained it.

***

She wasn’t sure if it was what had happened that morning, or if thinking about Jet had gotten her all riled up. But Iris just couldn’t face another quiet night in her room. She was a little burned out on all the songwriting she’d been doing. She needed a break. She’d gone for a swim that afternoon. Marcus hadn’t gone in with her. He’d waited on shore.

But it hadn’t been enough to take the edge off her restlessness. Every spare moment, she’d played and replayed that moment in the kitchen, his hand on her chin, his eyes on her lips. And every time she thought about it, Iris’s skin pulled tight, her heart raced. She had no doubt, none at all, that he’d wanted to kiss her.

He was a man, she was a woman. It made sense. She also knew that he’d probably be sprinting in the other direction if he knew about this monster crush she was currently nursing. That she could barely feel the tips of her fingers whenever he was in the same room. Or that when she heard him scuffling around his room it set butterflies dancing in her stomach. All these dumb little things, like seeing the book he was reading left open on the table, all of it sent her pulse racing. Anything that reminded her of his huge, gravity-sucking presence made her blush like a schoolgirl.

Regardless, she found herself down in the TV room for the first time since they’d arrived at the beach house. She wasn’t a TV watcher by nature. But tonight, she just needed something, anything, to take her racing mind off what had happened with him.

There were shelves full of DVDs to choose from and she was daunted by all the choices. She automatically dismissed all the war movies on the shelves. Not a fan. She found herself skipping easily past the romances and the rom coms. They would not offer her the distraction that she needed. Maybe something scary then?

She’d probably regret it later when she was shivering and wide awake all alone in her room. But right now, it was the only thing that would possibly take her mind off of Marcus.

Iris selected two DVDs and read the back of one and then the other. She froze as she felt Marcus’s gaze on her back. She hadn’t heard him approach, but she knew he was there.

“Gonna watch a movie?” His deep voice rumbled over her like a wave over the shore.

“Yeah, I’m in the mood to veg out tonight.”

To her great surprise, Marcus nodded once and came to sit on the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table. “What are we watching?”

Oh. He was going to watch a movie with her. Okay. Fine. That was just fine. She’d keep the light on and sit on the other side of the couch. And she’d choose something that would totally distract her from his presence.

“Um,” she held one of the DVDs up. “The Orphanage.” It was a Spanish language horror movie and the cover made it look terrifying.

“Isn’t that a horror movie?” Marcus asked as she turned on the TV and put the DVD into the player.

“Yeah. Is that a problem?”

“Not for me. You just… don’t seem like a horror movie kind of girl.”

Iris turned back toward him and surveyed her seating choices. She could either sit on the other end of the couch from Marcus or in a La-Z-Boy chair across the room from him. She chose the couch. She didn’t want him to think that she was affected by their interaction this morning.

So she slid onto the couch, as far away from his as possible and pulled one of the throw pillows over her lap. “I’m usually not into horror. But, I don’t know, it just sounded good for tonight.”

“Alright,” he said, raising an eyebrow at her as the opening credits started playing.

They weren’t ten minutes into the movie before Iris realized she’d made a huge, huge mistake with her movie choice. She was utterly terrified and nothing scary had even really happened yet. The whole thing was just so spooky.

“Iris,” Marcus said in a low voice as he paused the movie.

She jumped a foot in the air and turned to face him, completely wild eyed. “What?!”

He looked like he was holding back a chuckle. “Let’s choose something else to watch. You’re strung tighter than a violin right now.”

“No, no.” She bit her lip and shook her head. “I’m fine. I swear. I’m totally cool.” She glanced nervously at the screen. “I wanna be able to lose myself in the movie tonight. It’s working.”

“Alright,” he replied skeptically. “If you say so. I’m gonna get something to drink. You want anything?”

“Whatever you’re having,” she responded absently, her eyes still glued to the paused screen. The movie was genuinely terrifying.

Marcus was back a few minutes later and she found a cold beer being pressed into her hand.

“For the nerves,” he said with a small grin that aggravated her nervous system worse than the dang movie did.

Was it her imagination or did he sit much closer to her on the couch than he had before? No. Yeah. There was only about a foot of space between them where there had been three feet before.

Iris both minded and didn’t mind. The part of her that was trying hard not to feed her humongous crush on the good smelling behemoth sitting next to her really wished he’d scoot   away from her. Give her heart a chance to beat normally. The other part of her, the part that was shivering and whimpering over this horror movie was very glad he was right next to her.

She took a big sip of her beer and allowed it to soothe her. She hadn’t had a beer in a long time and had forgotten how good they could taste.

Marcus reclined on the couch, his feet, crossed at the ankle, stretched before them on the coffee table. Iris tucked her feet under her and anchored the pillow over her lap again as protection from the movie.

“Ready?” he asked, with a small smile on his face, the remote pointing toward the screen.

“Ready,” she confirmed solemnly.

Another twenty minutes into the movie and Marcus wholeheartedly wished they’d chosen a comedy. Every time she shifted in worry or fear, his body was put on high alert. He couldn’t get comfortable with her just a few inches away, squirming and whimpering. The noises she was making, good God, the noises. He knew they were fearful and they should absolutely not be turning him on, but Jesus. He was mortal. And this woman had a sweet little whimpery moan for every moment of the movie that freaked her out. And, he had to admit, this movie was freaky as hell. There were plenty of moments that would be making him tense even if she weren’t writhing and whimpering next to him.

He glanced over at her and her eyes were glued to the screen. She clutched her empty beer bottle in both hands and her knuckles had gone white.

Again, Marcus paused the movie. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Gripping her bottom lip between her teeth, she nodded her head. “Yeah.”

He leaned forward and tugged the empty bottle out of her hands. He set it on the coffee table next to his and leaned back on the couch. His hand naturally ran along the back cushion, behind Iris’s head, and as she didn’t seem to mind, he left it there.

“I’m just gonna give you the remote,” Marcus said, handing it over. “If you need to pause it or turn it off at any point, no hard feelings, okay?”

Again, she nodded, uber solemn. Her bottom lip poked out a little and Marcus had the strong urge to lean forward and tug it gently between his teeth. He’d been haunted by thoughts of her mouth today. Those plump little lips. He dragged his eyes away and planted them on the screen.

Iris pressed play on the movie and sank back into the couch. The weight of her body had his arm sinking down just a bit toward her, but he held it away from her. Marcus didn’t know if she knew his arm was behind her or not. But a few minutes later, at a particularly scary moment involving an old creepy woman hiding in a shack, Iris jumped six inches in the air and flung her body around, away from the television. Her warm, soft face pressed insistently into his bicep, halfway covered by the sleeve of his t-shirt. The rest of his arm he instinctively wrapped around her, holding her to him for just a moment.

“Oh my god,” she whimpered, her breath hot against the inner skin of his arm.

“You alright?” he chuckled, although the last thing he felt like doing was laughing. All he really wanted to do was gather her close and run his nose along the slender line of her neck.

He realized that he was probably holding her too tight, but he found that his arm just wasn’t letting him ease up. Her slender shoulders fit perfectly in the crook of his arm. He did his best to keep his eyes on the screen and the movie that was continuing to play, but his eyes just naturally slid down to the crooked little part in her hair.

It was a gut punch of epic proportions. That crooked part. Her soft, light hair tumbled all over the place, always looking movie star gorgeous, but when you got close enough, you saw that her part was just a touch messy, out of line. He couldn’t say exactly why that made him want to tilt her head back and bite at her collarbones, he couldn’t have defined the exact correlation, but there it was. And there she was, warm and tight and trembling in his arms. Well, his arm. He kept his other arm firmly at his side. He could comfort her for a second. But he was not going to hold her. He refused to hold her.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she lifted her head and twisted back around to face the movie. But her shoulders stayed wedged under his arm, her arm down to the elbow was pressed against his ribs and her feet were pulled up under her chin. She didn’t shake his arm off, so Marcus didn’t bother moving it.

The movie was good. Terrifying, spooky, and compelling in equal measure. Both of them were sucked into it, but not wholly. A good amount of brain power from both of them was concentrated on his arm over her shoulders, her body pressing into his side. They were watching a scary movie, that was all. People sat close during scary movies. People did that all the time. That’s what they both told themselves as their bodies began to relax into the heat of the other.

By the time the movie was in its last few minutes, Iris had relaxed her head back onto his muscular shoulder, and his warm palm had slid down to cup her at her opposite elbow. He was sure that she could feel his heart pounding in his ribs but he found he didn’t care. He could always blame it on this scary-ass movie if she asked.

“Oh my god,” Iris whispered again as the credits rolled at the end of the movie. “I can’t believe that ending.” Her mouth fell right open as she turned to Marcus, less than six inches from him and he fought the need to lick at that little pink tongue of hers. With what he considered an admirable amount of restraint, Marcus took his free hand and gently closed her jaw.

“It was a good movie,” he conceded. As much as it pained him, he knew he had run out of excuses to have his arm wrapped around her shoulders. So he quickly removed it and stood up to stretch at the same time.

The lack of his warmth around her instantly made Iris self-conscious. She hadn’t realized quite how intimate their position had been until she felt the cold left behind in the absence of it. He obviously hadn’t minded, because he’d sat with her like that for damn near half the movie. But she couldn’t help but feel some embarrassment about how jumpy she’d been during the movie.

She rose as well, putting their beer bottles in the recycling in the kitchen. She scrupulously avoided the darkened windows that bounced her reflection back toward her as she scurried back toward the stairs upstairs. She bounced in front of Marcus, scampering in front of him up the stairs. It was then she realized how screwed she was. After that movie, she was way too scared to be left alone downstairs. And now she was staring down the barrel of an entire night alone? Brilliant idea with the scary movie, Iris.

“A little jumpy?” Marcus asked with a smile in his tone as he ambled up the stairs behind her.

Iris cleared her throat. “A little, I guess.”

“You gonna be alright?”

She nodded, but didn’t speak. He didn’t need to know how much of a loser she was. And that she would be sleeping with the lights on, her headphones in and completely under the covers.

“Look,” he said as he came to the door across from hers. “I’ll keep my door open tonight. If you want to keep yours open too.”

She almost didn’t hear his offer considering how busy she was searching the hall for twitchy, terrifying ghost children with burlap sacks over their heads.

“What? Oh, you don’t have to do that for me.”

“It’s really not a problem, Iris. And you look like you’re about to cry.”

She bit her lip and gave him just a flash of her blue eyes. He wanted more. He wanted to tilt her head back and stare into those ice blue orbs.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe it would be easier to fall asleep if…” she trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence.

He nodded. “Done. Sleep well.”

And he turned to walk into his room without a glance behind him.