Page 1 of Craving

ONE

Marlon St. James sat at the head table of his brother Leo’s wedding and brooded. This wasn’t a rare occurrence; Marlon had Resting Brooding Face. It wasn’t unusual for people to give him a wide berth when he was busy living his life with his dark and dangerous features out for all the world to see. Occasionally, particularly brave souls would work up the courage to ask him what was bothering him.

On a regular day, nothing was bothering him. He was just living his life with the face he’d been given, inadvertent scowls and all.

Today, his expression matched his mood.

A peal of laughter drew his attention to the far side of the dance floor, where Camilla Fox moved her hips to the beat of the music. She had beautiful hips. They were round and full, hugged lovingly by her navy bridesmaid’s gown. The low-cut sweetheart neckline showed off her ample bosom too, which Marlon could see from all the way across the room. She had a dangling necklace that had found a home right at the top of her cleavage, its glimmering gold drawing his eye to all that soft flesh. He wanted to fall face-first into it and never come up for air.

She was half a head taller than her friends, statuesque and laughing and beautiful. Every time he looked away, he found his gaze drawn back to her copper curls and her curves.

Marlon ground his teeth. Damn Leo and his generous heart. When Marlon’s brother heard that Camilla was planning on sleeping on an air mattress in her bakery’s offices for the foreseeable future, he’d dragged Camilla to meet Marlon and announced that she’d be moving into Leo’s old room. A room which happened to share a wall with Marlon’s.

It was nothing more than blatant emotional manipulation. How could Marlon say no to his brother on his wedding day? Camilla was Amelia’s best friend, so she was practically marrying into the family, and she needed somewhere to stay. Marlon had a big old house with three bedrooms and more space than a single man could ever need. When Leo presented the facts, Marlon knew he couldn’t say no.

Even though he wanted to. Oh, he wanted to. He wanted to slam the door in both their faces and tell them to kick rocks.

The last thing Marlon needed was another person in his house, especially not someone soft and delicate and giggling, who would call up all his protective instincts. He’d worked hard to smother those instincts over the past decade. He used them for work, and then he came home and switched them off. That’s how he liked it. That’s how he wanted things to remain.

Living alone—being alone—was like letting out a long breath. Every evening, he walked into his house and felt his shoulders relax. Under his own roof, he didn’t need to look out for anyone else. He didn’t need to feel that gnawing worry that he was needed, that he had forgotten something, that he’d fail.

It had been all right to share a house with Leo. They were adults now, and Leo could look after himself. He didn’t need Marlon to be his protector or his parent anymore.

But Camilla would walk through the front door, and things would change. Marlon could already feel it within himself, the urge to make sure the fridge was stocked and the garage door finally got fixed. He’d meant to replace the window latch in the ground-floor powder room but hadn’t gotten around to it yet, which was annoying him. The lock had broken four years ago, and the glass was cracked in the corner. Now Camilla would move in, and he wouldn’t even be able to secure the house. She’d twitch those soft hips all the way into her new bedroom, and Marlon wouldn’t have a refuge anymore. He wouldn’t have somewhere to escape where he could be alone and worry-free.

He’d be thinking about her, whether he wanted to or not. And if he wasn’t thinking about her, he’d be thinking about trivialities like broken powder room window latches.

And that annoyed him. A lot.

A hand landed softly on his shoulder. He looked up to see Amelia smiling down at him, silver eyes shining. Her blond hair was styled beautifully, half of it gathered at the crown of her head with the rest falling in soft waves to her shoulder blades. She looked gorgeous and utterly happy. “Thank you,” she told him, squeezing his shoulder. “Leo told me what you’re doing for Camilla.”

All the fight left Marlon like the air being let out of an overstretched balloon. He was a selfish bastard, wasn’t he? Sitting by himself, grousing, when there was a woman who would be homeless if he didn’t let her have one of the empty bedrooms in his home.

He dipped his chin. “It’s no problem,” he lied. “I’ve got more than enough room.”

“Thank you. I hadn’t realized… Camilla’s not one to broadcast when she needs help. I appreciate you offering her the space.”

“Technically, it’s Leo who offered it.” Marlon knew he sounded bitter and resentful, but he couldn’t help himself.

Amelia just laughed and threw her arms around his shoulders. She squeezed Marlon tight, causing a lump to lodge itself in his throat. He patted the arm that was slung across his chest, not knowing how else he was supposed to react.

His Resting Brooding Face usually prevented these things from happening.

“I’m proud to call you my new brother,” Amelia whispered with another squeeze. She stood up, smiling, then scanned the room. As soon as her eyes alighted on Leo, her face brightened. Saying a soft goodbye to Marlon, she hurried over to her new husband’s side. Leo caught her in his arms and twirled her onto the dance floor, both smiling so wide it almost hurt to witness.

A tightness banded around his ribs: envy. He didn’t begrudge his brother’s happiness; he was simply realizing that he was alone.

But wasn’t that what he’d wanted for decades? Wasn’t his life exactly how he’d designed it?

Marlon dropped his gaze to his empty wineglass. He grabbed one of the bottles on the table and filled it up, conflicted and moody and annoyed.

“I can find somewhere else to stay.”

Following the sound of the voice, Marlon watched Camilla pull out the chair next to him. Her hips were even nicer up close. The fabric of her dress strained across her thighs, and Marlon knew he was in trouble. Thighs like that made a man imagine things he had no business imagining, like how they would feel squeezed against his ears. Or how soft they’d be to touch and hold and kiss. Thick thighs were a gift Marlon coveted with all the greed and selfishness buried in his dark heart.

And she’d be living with him. Thighs and all.

Thank goodness it was nearly winter. If he had to endure the sight of her thighs in shorts—or worse, sundresses—he’d never recover.