Page 69 of Tied Up in Riches
He reaches out, brushing a thumb across my cheek, and chills rush over my skin like a watercolor seeping from the touch of the paintbrush against paper. “What is it?”
“This is weird,” I whisper, both vulnerable and safe.
“Why’s that?” His hand falls to his thigh, and he shifts ever-so-slightly away from me, his eyes steady on my face.
“You’re my boss,” I say with a shaky exhale.
“Is that what I am?”
My lips part to answer him, but nothing comes out. Is he my boss? I mean, yes, he is. And when all this started that title was at the top of the list of things he is to me. But now? He’s my fake boyfriend. He’s my friend. He’s . . . the man I’m developing feelings for. That scares the shit out of me.
“What’s going through your mind, love?”
“Why are you doing this?”
He hesitates like he’s debating the right answer.
“I don’t want the right answer. I want the truth.”
“Because I want to.” His thumb reaches back out to brush across my jaw. “Because you deserve to feel good.”
Does that added statement make it better or worse? Does he feel like he needs to do this? I wonder if it’s some sort of challenge to him. He’s so successful, I doubt he’s used to losing.
“Brooke?” His hand covers both of mine, stopping their fidgeting as they rest on my bent knees.
“Yeah?”
“You have to get out of your head.”
“I’m not the best at that.”
“I beg to differ. I’ve seen you focus. Undistracted.”
“I meditate a lot.” I chuckle.
“Guided or music?”
“Music.”
He reaches for my phone on my nightstand. “Turn it on.”
I hesitate but take it from him, waiting for my face to unlock the screen. “How long should I set the timer for?” I tap on the mediation app on the top left of my home screen picture of the waterfall from the hike we went on a few weeks ago.
“Is there a continuous play setting?”
“Yeah.”
“It takes as long as it takes. There’s no time limit.”
I scroll through the time options on my favorite sound and push play. A soft melody of piano and ocean waves flows from the bottom speaker as Marcus gently pulls it from my hand and rests it back on the nightstand. “Do you trust me?”
I nod.
He loosens his black tie around his neck, tugging it free from the knot. By the time it rests loosely in his hands in front of him, I realize what he’s about to do.
I shake my head. No.
He appraises me, his eyes narrowing the slightest bit. I take him in as we both sit there in silence. The sleeves of his white button-up are rolled and tight on his forearms in the sexiest way. The top button is undone, the rest of them begging to be ripped apart. His suit pants are tight over his muscular thighs with the way he’s kneeling in front of me on the bed.