Mind the Gap

Chapter 7

“Don’t pick out anything for her in that gold color you always suggest. It’s makes her look like shite. I should think a deep plum or that burgundy one would look quite lovely on her.”

Tossing my keys onto the entryway table, I make my way into the TV room to find Kate and Sophie looking over racks filled with silk, organza, satin and lace. So much fabric. I was half amazed and half horrified. And by the volume of Kate’s voice, I was scared for what I was going to be put through.

“Sophie,” I yell over the conversation about a tiara.

“Finally,” she huffed and she click-clacked her way to me in her 4-inch heels. “We have a lot to do and Mary can only be here for an hour.” She pointed towards the dark-haired woman who Kate was talking to. She maneuvered her way around Kate to come greet me, her hand outstretched and the pleasant smile salespeople had when Sophie threw her money around.

“Ms. Benedict, lovely to meet you. As requested, I’ve brought several styles of dresses for you to peruse. There are some lovely A-line dresses that I think would be excellent for you.”

Despite knowing about this ball for the past month, I’ve ignored it. Mostly because Kate was driving me nuts with her excitement of attending her first London ball. She was acting as if we’ll have invitations overflowing our mailbox from this point forward. But the other reason had to do with the fact that I didn’t have a date. I figure, why bother getting all dressed up if I was going to be my greatest company that evening. I have a feeling the racks of dresses currently sitting in our apartment was Sophie’s way of getting me there, whether I liked it or not.

Rudely, I ignored Mary and went to the rack.  I ignore Kate, who was excitedly telling me about the dresses she thought I should get. I sifted through dresses in some shade of purple, burgundy and green, figuring I would just pick something and then move on. But something shimmery that caught my attention. Pulling the dress out, I fall a little bit in love.

This was the gown. Navy in color, this dress was going to be really form-fitting. Generally, I would shy away from something like this, but I had this feeling this dress would give my somewhat ‘meh’ shape what it needed to stand out.

“What do you have there?” Sophie says as she sidles up next to me. Pulling the dress from my hands, she holds it out in front of her. Inspecting it as only someone who has experience in ball gowns and other accouterments would.

“There are times you shock me,” she said as she turned the hanger to look at the back of the dress. “I was prepared to fight you to get a dress that showed off your body, but you’ve said, ‘f**k it’ to those self-conscious ways and picked this spectacular dress.”

She hung the dress from a single rack and took a step back, studying the dress as it hung by itself. “These crystals on the shoulders and the sides will sparkle when the lights hit them. The effect should be stunning. And this thigh slit and low back are very sexy.  I approve.”

This was a dress that would make me feel sexy. Make me feel like I belonged at this ball.

Sophie hands me the dress. “Go try it on.”

Slipping the dress on, I rush into the TV room. “So?” I ask as I spin around. “What do you think?”

“Holy s**t. That dress is f*****g hot.”

I jump and spin around to see Chris Stevens standing in the doorway of the kitchen, beer in hand, staring at me with his mouth practically hanging open. If I were a normal woman, seeing a man drooling on himself because of what I had on would make me feel all giddy inside. But it wasn’t this blonde hair, California surfer looking man with arms the size of a small country that I wanted looking at me this way. No. I wanted to entice the Dark Lord.

I wanted those already dark eyes to become even darker. To caress me from head to toe as he took in the silky skin of my exposed thigh and the way the crystals reflected the light onto my back. But want in one hand, s**t in the other, which one will fill up faster, my grandfather would always say. The Dark Lord’s s**t had runneth over in my hand with that private investigator stunt and I needed to remind myself of that every time my mind decided to jog my memory of him.

Getting out of my head, I turn my attention back to Chris. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

Putting his beer down on the table, he grabbed his messenger bag from the floor and pulled out a very familiar Currys bag. “My task was try to get you to see reason and accept this gift. Your friend Sophie took pity on me and gave me a beer.”

“I don’t want it. Take it back.”

“C’mon, Lia. I’m the head of security for the Earl of Mornington. I have better things to do than drive this f*****g thing over here. Just take it. Do whatever you want to do with it, but please, just take it.”

“Marcus is a f*****g arsehole, Lia, but must you torture poor Christopher? He’s been quite lovely about this whole thing.” I snapped my head in Sophie’s direction to see her gazing as Chris with a weird expression on her face. She wasn’t one to swoon. That was my role in this friendship. I swooned over the hot guys, not her. But the way she was looking now had me thinking Lady Knightly liked Mr. Stephens.

“Have I been torturing you, Chris? It must be absolutely horrible to sit here drinking a beer while I look for a gown.”

He flipped me off as he walked over to the couch and then flopped himself down. “To go back to what I was saying,” he says while propping his feet on the coffee table, “that dress is f*****g hot.”

“Thanks, Chris.”

“Enough with him,” Kate snaps. “Let’s take a look at you.” She holds my arms out to my side and begins to exam just about every stitch on the dress. “This could work. Your cast is horrible, but we can cover that with gloves.” She spins me around and starts running her fingers across the waist of the dress in the back. “No gaps here, but with it being so fitted you may have to go without underwear. Even a thong would show.”

Beer sprays from Chris’ mouth and narrowly misses Sophie’s personal shopper who’s been quietly sitting waiting for us. “I’m sorry,” Chris says to the poor personal shopper who looks like she’s about to break down any moment and pulls out his phone. After swiping his finger across the screen and taping it. “No f*****g underwear,” he mutters with the phone to his ear.

“No, she didn’t take the f*****g thing. Yes, I tried harder. f**k you. Do you know what I’m doing right now? I’m sitting here looking at her in this hard-on inducing dress while her sister-in-law tells her she’s got to wear it without underwear.” He take a pull from is beer nodding his head. “That’s what I thought.” He tosses his phone onto the table and looks that the three of us staring at him.

“What?”

“Wh…who were you talking to?” I can’t keep the stutter out of my words because I have the feeling the very man I was just fantasizing about undressing me with his eyes was on the other end of that call.

“Marcus.” He grins and looks at the three of us. Then the doorbell rings. “And that would be him.”

Without waiting, and acting as if this was his apartment, Chris propels himself off the couch and towards the front door.

I start to panic and I can feel the sweat starting to bead at the back of my neck. There is no way in hell Marcus is going to come into this apartment, invade my home, when I’m pissed at him.

“No!” I shout as I stomp towards the door. “Don’t you open that door to him, Chris. I mean it.” Ignoring me, he opens the door, smirking at me over his shoulder. “Asshole,” I mutter under my breathe right before it’s taken from me.

I’ve seen Marcus in his workout attire, on the day my arm was broken, and I’ve seen him in a suit molded to his body, on the day he professed to hiring a private investigator to get information on me. And as much as both of those cases left me with an indelible image of Marcus, neither of those could prepare me for what he looked like now.

He looked like he just leaped off the pages of a Ralph Lauren ad. His hair was slicked back, but not in a way that made it stuck to his head. No, the Dark Lord’s hair perfectly laid back, lifted slightly from his scalp, and made my fingers itch to run though it and mess it up. Those dark eyes locked directly on mine, looking equally pissed and turned on. His face wore dark stubble, that I’d never seen him without, as if it was a badge of honor. That hair, those eyes and that face were enough to have me unhook the snap at the back of my dress and let it fall to the floor. But it’s also the white button down shirt, covered with a gray v-neck button down sweater and jeans that have been well worn and perfectly molded to his entire lower half that have me putting a hand out to the wall to steady myself.

Closing my eyes, I try to gain a little bit of composure. I’m still pissed at him and I should probably be a bit more after barging into the apartment like he owned it. But it’s hard to hold onto a good mad when the man I’m pissed at is standing in front of me looking like he does and looking at me like he’d like nothing more than to put his shoulder into my stomach and do some very sexy Dark Lord type things to me.

“Amelia,” he growls and I open my eyes to look at him. “That gown is exquisite and you are absolutely stunning in it.”

I feel the smile start before I can stop it, but the compliment works wonders at diffusing my anger. I realize he probably did that on purpose, using his Dark Lord s*x powers to weaken me. Bastard.

“Good.” Chris heads towards the door and then comes back to kiss me on the cheek. “The two of you are in the same room and now I can go back to me real job. My work is done here.” Slapping Marcus on the back he vanishes through the door.

“Bloody bastard played me.”

“What?”

Marcus rubbed his hand down his face, muttered something I couldn’t hear and took a deep breath before looking at me again.

“I’m not sure why I consider the prick my best friend.” A smirk pulled at his lips and I shake my head at him as I lean against the wall. “You do look like a f*****g goddess in that dress.” He reaches out and runs a finger down the side of the dress strap, gently caressing my skin. “What’s the occasion?”

“My friend, Sophie. Her parents are throwing this big ‘time to marry her off’ ball this coming weekend.” It was hard to remember to breathe when he keeps touching me. I’m pretty sure he could feel the vibrations from my heart beating out of control through my skin.

“This dress…” He stares off for a moment and then his heated gaze connects with mine. In an instant, Marcus’ mouth crashes into mine. He devours me, as if he was a parched man getting his first drink of cool water. His tongue thrusts into my mouth, slipping across the roof of my mouth, as his body pins me to the wall.

For as fierce as his mouth is, his hands gently cup the sides of my face before trailing up into my hair and tilting my head where he wants it. Then he showed me what is was like to have him really kiss me.

My ex used to pride himself on how he was a master in the art of kissing. He has nothing on Marcus. His taste; a hint of coffee, cinnamon and something that was uniquely Marcus, could be bottled and used as an aphrodisiac. And as his thigh went between my legs and a hand roamed down the side of one, pulling the dress with it, I knew this man was going to ruin me if I let him.

“Bloody hell I could keep my tongue on your skin all day.” The words whispers behind my ear as Marcus trailed his tongue, lips and teeth down my skin. “Touch me, Amelia.”

The lust in his voice, making it sound deeper and raspier, practically commands my body into motion. And my body obeys like a good soldier does. My hands, which has been tightly grasping Marcus’ sweater, quickly go to work pulling at the sweater and his button down shirt to get to his skin. What greets my hands can only be called perfection.

Marcus is lean, but I didn’t realize he was hiding this hard body. His stomach is the epitome of washboard abs. I want so badly to pull back from Marcus and look at them, probably from knee level so I can truly appreciate what he has. But I decide, as a low growl comes from the man before me and his teeth sink into the spot between my neck and shoulder, that I’ll save that for another time. As I run my hands up his chest, pulling his shirt and sweater with it, Marcus grabs my face and plunders my mouth. His tongue moves in and out and I’m lost in everything about this man and this moment. I completely forget there are other people here in the apartment or that we’re standing in the doorway where my brother can come through at any moment. Leave it to my best friend to give me a friendly reminder.

“Lia, while I’m sure being ravished in the hallway is delightful, you don’t want to wrinkle that gown.”

Marcus pulls back a little at Sophie’s voice, but then gently kisses the tip of my nose and forehead before pulling me closer and wrapping me in his arms. I wish I could say I didn’t like being there, but I’d be lying. Being in Marcus’ arms is the first right thing I’ve felt in a long time.

“I should apologize and tell you this was not how I envisioned this to go, but I won’t.” He says into my hair holding me to him a little bit tighter. “I will, however, tell you I’m sorry for hiring the private investigator. I simply wanted to find you without seeming like a stalker hanging about your lobby.”

Putting his finger under my chin, he raised my face a bit higher and pulled me to meet his lips. The kiss was soft and sweet, but quickly turned into something a bit hotter once I ran my tongue across the seam of his lips. With a groan, he tangled his fingers back into my hair and devoured my mouth, his tongue entering and claiming it. I was quickly learning Marcus was a man who knew how to kiss me absolutely senseless.

Pulling back, he smoothed the hair down the side of my head while staring at me. “You are f*****g gorgeous,” he said in almost a whisper. “You take my breath away.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” I say as I chuckle. As much as I really, really enjoyed what we just did, my mind was starting to frantically yell at my heart to calm down. One earth shattering kiss did not make happily ever after, or at least that’s what my mind kept reminding my heart.

“Shite.” Reaching into his pocket, Marcus pulled out his cell phone. He stared at the screen for a moment before his shoulder sagged and he answered the phone. “Yes? Now? Alright. I’m in Mayfair now. I’ll be there shortly.”

Leaning against the opposite wall from Marcus, I watch him turn into someone very different than the man he was a few short minutes ago. It was as if a switch has been flipped or a wall erected, because he stood very stiff, almost regal.

“You need to go?”

My question seemed to have him engaging in some war within himself. Maybe between the man that was ready to screw me senseless against the wall and this other man standing in front of me now. I hoped it was the screwing against the wall guy who won, but I knew it wasn’t going to be.

“Yes. I’m needed at a rather important meeting.” Sliding his phone back into his pocket, he begin fixing everything I had undone on him. Tucking his shirt into his pants with precision and deftly straightening his sweater. Once everything was in order, he looked at me. “I’m glad we were able to work out our misunderstanding.”

His gaze fell to my mouth and I could see the war raging in his dark eyes. I thought he might just say “f**k it” to whatever was pulling him away, but his sense of honor and duty to whomever was on the phone won out. “I’ll ring you soon.”

And then his was out the door, leaving me to wonder what they hell just happened.