7
Emma
I’m lured out of deep sleep by the delicious aromas of baked apples and pumpkin pie—and the sound of my stomach growling loudly. I’m tempted to ignore it and burrow deeper under my blanket, but a rough male voice murmurs, “You awake, kitten?” and soft, warm lips nibble on the sensitive junction between my neck and shoulder, while a big, strong hand strokes up my side and possessively cups my breast.
The sleepy haze in my brain dissipates in an instant.
Holy f**k.
I’m in bed with Marcus.
In Florida.
At my grandparents’ house.
Eyes popping open, I sit up and twist around to stare at the billionaire who so ruthlessly chased me here. He’s lying on his side, propped up on one elbow, his thick brown hair mussed from sleep and his eyes heavy-lidded as he meets my gaze. With his har
