Page 70 of Love Marks

I can’t believe that just a few hours ago, I was feeling sorry for myself over Wesley Marks. Who cares what he thinks? He’s just some guy. A hot guy, yes. A really hot guy who wears incredible suits, yes. But still just some guy.

I should give him a piece of my mind. Tell him what I really think of him and his stupid abs.

You know what?

I will. I’ll tell him right now.

That’s the last thing I remember before I blackout.

* * *

The next day at work is terrible. I have a horrible stomachache and I look like a complete mess. Thank God Wesley isn’t home all day. It’s almost time for me to start dinner and I still feel nauseous. I’ve hardly eaten all day — I’ve just been sipping Gatorade and force-feeding myself saltine crackers.

Despite my hangover, I had a fun time with Hannah and her friends. She even invited me to a party next weekend, and she seemed genuine. I feel bad that I dismissed her so quickly.

A wave of nausea rolls through me as I wipe down the kitchen counters. It hits me all at once.

I’m going to throw up. Definitely.

I manage to make it to the closest bathroom and push my head into the toilet bowl. I hurl for a minute, letting out everything in my stomach. It’s disgusting and putrid but once I’m finished, I feel a million times better.

Until I glance down at my clothes and realize I didn’t quite reach the toilet entirely. Gross. I glance at the clock — I still have an hour until Wesley comes home. I strip my clothes off and quickly scrub them in the sink, hanging them to dry on the towel rod. Then I hop in the shower.

I’m already under the running water when I’m hit with the realization that I am currently in Wesley’s bathroom. In his shower. In my fleeing to the toilet, I didn’t think to go to the guest bathroom on the far end of the apartment. I look down at the fancy body wash and lift the bottle, popping the cap open, and sniffing.

God. This is weird and creepy and wrong in probably a million ways. But it smells just like him. I’m tempted to lather it all over my body, but I grab a bar of soap and use that instead. Hopefully Wesley won’t realize that I’ve showered at all. Or I can explain that I spilled on myself. Something like that.

I wash off quickly, not wanting to waste any time. I waterfall some mouthwash and swish it around. It’s amazing how much better I feel after only a few minutes. Relieved, I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around myself. My clothes aren’t quite dry, so I grab the hair dryer off the wall and turn it on, trying quickly to get the wet stains out of my shirt.

The sound of the hair dryer bombards my ears as I flip my hair over and run the nozzle through it. It’s so loud I don’t hear anything. I don’t hear the ding of the elevator or the opening of Wesley’s door. I’m completely oblivious as I flip my hair back up and turn the hair dryer off.

I step out of the bathroom into Wesley’s bedroom, where he stands, gaping at me.

* * *

“Oh my god!”

I pull my towel up higher at an attempt of covering myself, even though nothing is visible. Wesley’s eyes are wide, and his jaw is locked tighter than I’ve ever seen it. He blinks and then turns away, averting his eyes.

“What the hell?” His voice booms. “What are you doing?”

“Oh my god,” I repeat. Where are my clothes? Where the hell are my clothes? “I’m so sorry. I got my clothes dirty, and I thought I would have time and oh my god…”

Wesley makes a strangled noise. “Where are your clothes?”

“Hanging. In the bathroom. I’ll get them. Right now.”

I turn on my heels to flee back into the bathroom, but he stops me, his hand wrapping around my arm. He looks down at me like he’s in pain.

I should speak, but I can’t. All I can think is how badly I want him to kiss me. How desperate I am for him to press his lips to mine. I let the hope build in my chest as I look into his eyes, but he just stares into mine, searching.

I’m sure he’s going to let go and break away, so I turn my head away, but he catches my cheek with his other hand. The movement is surprisingly gentle as he brushes his thumb along my cheekbone.

I suck in a sharp breath, my chest rising and falling with desire.

Will he…?

Finally, after what feels like a lifetime, he presses his lips to mine.