He doesn’t offer any explanation and the wind blows gently between us. Moving the hair out of my face, I wait for him to say more, but he doesn’t.

“Thank you for the note.” Marcus is silent, staring off at the old tree. A crease is in the center of his forehead.

“It’s your handwriting,” I say, prompting him to say more.

“I’m aware.”

“Well … how?” I can’t get the question out; it feels very much like I’m stepping over his boundaries.

“That’s not something for you to worry your pretty little head about.” The mannerism in which he speaks sounds so much like Cody too. I haven’t noticed it until now, maybe because he’s never been this casual before. Or maybe it’s because I can see his lips now. The same lips I’ve kissed.

“You and Cody?” I can’t help myself as my heart breaks, splitting down the center. “Does he know?”

“I don’t want him here.” He clears his throat, hardening his voice and that depth of darkness comes back to his cadence as he adds, “I mean, I don’t want to speak about him. Not here.”

“I’m sorry I brought it up.” A hint of fear simmers in my blood.

“I thought maybe it would help me, to see you here.”

“Help with what?” I dare to ask.

I don’t know why, but there’s a deep-seated pain that rests in his gaze. I wish I could stop it, erase it from all existence. It doesn’t belong there.

In a single blink it’s gone, replaced by a narrow gaze and a teasing smirk. The air shimmers and I nearly second-guess what I saw. “There’s no one here …” His voice is deep and seems to rumble from his chest. “I could do anything I want to you.”

I know only days ago, the statement would elicit more fear than anything else. As he looks down at me, like a hunter at his prey, there isn’t anything I feel other than want.

He makes me want more than I ever thought possible. It’s all the teasing. It has to be the way he plays with me.

As if that is something that should turn me on. I’m a foolish girl and so very aware of it when I ask him, “And what is it that you want to do to me?”

Thump, thump, the thrumming in my veins provides such little heat compared to what I know he could give me. “It’s more …” he starts but then huffs a laugh and asks a question instead. “Would you kiss me still?”

“What?” Nothing he says tonight makes any sense. Not with what I currently know.

“Now that you don’t need me?”

Is that what caused the pain in his gaze? He’s truly mad.

“Do you want to kiss me?” he asks bluntly as I stand there, feeling as if I’m nothing beneath him and wondering how he could see me as anything at all.

“Yes.” I answer without thinking.