Page 53 of I Love My Mistake
“That exact painting? Are you sure?”
He stares at it, nodding slowly. “I’m sure.”
I push myself off the wall and walk to him. “You dreamt of my painting? How can that be?”
He looks at me, trying to understand too, what this means. “I’m positive. That’s why I knew what I wanted for my interface. This is so wild, Nicole. I was supposed to meet you and more than that, I think I am supposed to do this thing.” His words gain speed, excited. “You know, the girl I told you I met here? She’s the one who encouraged me try, and I was talking to her about it because the inspiration was nagging at me.”
“It does that.”
“Yeah! And, to be totally honest, I was bragging to her about making this thing, but I hadn’t really done any work on it yet. It was just an idea in my head when I came here. And she said there are so many opportunities to be had. Why not try it? And something about how she was so optimistic, gave me hope.”
Instantly, I am insanely jealous of this woman. I want to ask more about her, and I want him to never bring her up again. I manage to choke out, “She must have been a good person to have done that for you,” but it takes a lot of effort.
He nods and picks up another painting. All I can think about is strangling that girl, and smoking a cigarette, so I don’t see it until he turns it around and asks, “Who’s this?”
Michael’s face is staring back at me from the portrait, dark and enigmatic, with eyes that are fire-red like the devil. “No one important.”
“Hey,” he puts down the canvas and steps toward me.
I blurt out, “He’s not important anymore. Is she?”
Marks concentrates on my face, seeing everything I’m trying to hide. He shakes his head. “I think she was a path meant to lead me to you.”
My heart hurts when I hear this, because it’s such a beautiful idea that I want to believe it so badly! But I don’t trust men! I can’t let this guy in. I can’t let anyone in. What is wrong with me?
He takes another step to me, so close now, and pulls me to him. My breath catches and I feel like I’m swaying even though his hands are firmly holding me. Staring into his eyes, I am an open book to him. I can see myself and my fears, reflected in the way he wants to prove to me he’s trustworthy, the look he’s giving me telling me he’s a good man. But his eyes… they tell stories I don’t know I’m ready to hear, promises of happiness and possibility. There’s that word again… possibility.
I whisper against his lips as he leans in, “I’m trying so hard to resist you.”
Pressure from his hands on my back brings my chest against his. “Just stop.”
“Oh God.” Our lips meet and a wave soars through me. I feel this kiss everywhere. In my hair and the tips of my fingers, in the soft skin behind my knees, in the soles of my feet and the top of my head and everywhere in between. When he pulls away slowly, I hold my breath, eyes closed, knowing I will do anything he asks of me.
He says quietly, “Oh Nicole, I think I’ve waited a lifetime to find you. And I hate to say what I’m about to say, but I’m going to leave now.”
My eyelashes flutter open. Hearing what I just heard punches me in the gut. I feel like I’m dying, and the worst part is that I know it’s not because of him. It’s because of Michael and his doing this very same thing! Over and over leaving me, right when he had me!
Mark sees my pain. I close my eyes and struggle against him, but his arms have me securely held and I stop fighting. I barely had energy or desire to fight as it was. He reaches up and takes my chin in hand. “Look at me.”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Nicole, please.”
I open my eyes, trying hard to mask the anger and hurt.
“It’s not because I don’t want to carry you into the bedroom and do things to your body that have never been done before. It’s because I don’t want to do them tonight.”
I blink a couple times, defeated. “Okay,” I whisper.
“Hey. I need you to believe me. I’m trying to do this right.”
“Are you married?” I ask, point blank, vulnerable.
He smiles through a sigh. “No. God, no. That would be a terrible thing to do to you. No. I’ve never been married. I have no girlfriend back home. I promise. Believe me?”
I search him and find only truth. “I had to ask. I didn’t, once.”
He kisses me again to push away my fears. All the feelings of his lips on mine, race through me again, and double. I slide my arms around his neck, nibble his lips, touch my tongue to his. The kiss grows more heated and dangerously pulls at both of us to deny his wishes, and maybe my own. Because I think deep down, I want what he wants. I want to do this right.