Free Complicated: A Tainted Love Novella by Ghiselle St. James Page B

seeing her body marked by me.
    Rachel comes closer and I hand over my cup of coffee, knowing she would have taken it anyway. She inhales it then takes a gratifying sip. She scrunches her nose at the taste and goes over to the kitchen counter and dumps more creamer and sugar into the cup before mixing. Bringing the cup up to her kiss-bruised lips, she takes a fortifying taste and closes her eyes as she relishes its deliciousness. A few more sips and color seeps back into her cheeks, rendering her human one more.
    Rachel finally faces me and she looks down into her coffee, not wanting to address the elephant in the room. We made love and she needs to acknowledge what happened between us. I know I’m not alone in this. She feels this all-encompassing love that I feel. Why she’s afraid of taking the plunge is beyond me, but I’m ready for some answers.
    “Rachel–”
    “This can’t happen again, Marshall,” she interrupts, still not looking at me. This is fear talking, not her heart. “You promised you’d stay away.”
    This takes me aback. “When did I ever promise to stay away from you, Rae?” I step closer to her now.
    “But…you…but,” she stutters, whether from my proximity or the question, I’m not sure; but I’d like to think it’s the former.
    “Even if I did promise, Princess,” I continue, “who says I’d ever keep that promise?”
    Rachel nibbles on her bottom lip, a sign that she’s nervous, and I take the small victory. Closing the space between us, I take the mug of coffee from her hands, ready to lay down the law of how things will be from now on. I’m done dicking around with her. She’s mine, always was and always will be.
    “You keep inferring that there’s nothing between us,” I recall, “that we won’t happen again…but it will.”
    “And what makes you so sure?” She’s nervous, but I give her props for not showing it. I admire her fight, it shows how passionate she can get and I’m all for passion.
    I’m stepping closer to her but she pulls up against the wall as if trying to disappear through it. Her breathing quickens and she gnaws at her bottom lip once again. Without looking in the direction of her chest – because if I do, I’d probably kiss her senseless and then fuck her – I know her nipples are peaked in response to my nearness.
    “So, if I touched your pussy right now, it won’t be wet? If I check your pulse, it won’t be racing? If I touch you, you won’t melt into me?” A tiny moan sounds in the back of her throat and my cock rages wanting to bury itself inside the warmth of her depths. “If I die tomorrow, you won’t cry yourself to sleep every night?”
    She gasps and a look of deep sadness cuts through her nervousness. “Why would you say something like that?” she demands, fury and worry lacing her tone. “Don’t say stuff like that, Marshall! I have enough to worry about with Delilah.”
    It didn’t matter last night when it was just us – our bodies and hearts , but I stifle that retort. I want to shake her, wake her up out of her denial and open her eyes from her blindness. How can I see it, feel that we belong together and she can’t?
    She starts pounding my chest, pushing me away in her anger. “You apologize right now! Right now!”
    Gripping her wrists and giving her a tender look, I bring my lips up to her ear and whisper, “I thought so,” before releasing her and walking away. It was the hardest thing to do, but I had to, so she can stew on everything that just happened. Fight all she wants, that girl loves me and I’m breaking down her walls.
    Her cell rings and she blows out a breath, glad to have the interruption in the atmospheric intensity. What she doesn’t know is that it won’t deter me. We’re going to explore this. We’re going to air out our differences. What she told me last night felt like a sucker punch, but I understood. It doesn’t mean it’s an acceptable excuse now.
    She quickly swipes up her phone