by Linda Verji
His reply was a long release of breath as he turned to face her. “Yeah, I did.”
She raised her brow. “Well?”
A muscle jumped in his jaw and his eyes darkened. “I wanted to talk about the kiss.”
The tension between them immediately spiked, and she clasped her hands in her lap. Hoping her voice didn’t reveal her anxiety, she offered, “Okay.”
“Olivia,” he started, “I’m sorry I kissed you.”
His apology caught her by surprise and she blurted out, “You didn’t kiss me. I kissed you.”
“No, I kissed you-” he paused to take a deep breath. Then shaking his head said, “It doesn’t really matter who kissed who. It was a mistake.”
What was there to say but, “Oh.”
“And it won’t happen again,” Marcel added.
“Oh.” Even though this was exactly what she’d expected him to say, her stomach dropped to her feet in disappointment.
“It can’t happen again.” His tone was as insistent as his grim expression. “Livy, Tay is my best-friend.”
She stared at her fists clenched in her lap. “I know.”
“That’s all you can say?” he asked. When she didn’t answer, he prodded, “Livy?” She shifted her gaze upwards to meet his dark gaze. His tone soft, he repeated, “That’s all you can say? I know?”
“There’s nothing I can say because you’ve said it all,” she pointed out. “The kiss can’t happen again because Tay is your friend and my ex.” She shrugged. “I suppose a clean break is the best thing.”
His brow wrinkled in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“We say our goodbyes now.” She released a weary sigh. “Isn’t that what you came to talk to me about?”
“No, that’s not what I came to you about.” He rose and shifted from the recliner to the couch. The seat dipped as he settled beside her. “The kiss can’t happen again but that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”
Never mind the immediate flaring of her body at his sudden closeness. What did he mean, “Friends?”
“We are friends, aren’t we?” he asked, his posture stiff.
She’d never really thought of them as friends. When she and Tay were dating he was a foe to be taken down several notches. Recently she’d started thinking of him as… she didn’t know. She hadn’t really defined their relationship in her mind except to assume it was a ceasefire from their war. But friends?
She offered a hesitant, “I guess.”
It was enough to bolster Marcel. The stiffness left his frame as he continued, “I know things between me, you and Tay are complicated…” His expression intent, he caught her hand in his. “… but our friendship doesn’t have to be complicated.”
It sure felt complicated. Those tingles of awareness racing from where his hand met hers through to her whole body felt complicated. None of her friends made her breathless just by sitting close to her, holding her hand or brushing their knees against hers.
“Well, what do you think?” he prompted, his thumb grazing over the back of her hand in tantalizing strokes. It probably wasn’t deliberate but the desire that cruised through her at his touch was real enough.
How was she supposed to be his friend with her hormones sighing and swooning whenever he came within two feet of her? But it was either that or walk away completely. Her stomach clenched at the thought of the second option. No, she wanted Marcel in her life. Even if it was just as her friend.
She forced her lips into her smile. “Yeah, I think we can do that. We can be just friends.”
“Exactly,” Marcel agreed enthusiastically as he squeezed her hand. “We’re grown enough that we can hang out as friends without anything happening.”
“We’re grown.” Warming up to the idea, she nodded. “And if things get intense, we just need to remind each other all the things that make us wrong for each other.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You mean like Tay?”
“He’s just one thing.”
“Really?” Marcel dropped her hand and leaned back on the couch. He speared her with a narrow-eyed look. “What makes me wrong for you?”
“Where do I start?” She starred upward to the ceiling looking for something she didn’t like about him. “Well, you’re a player. And I’m definitely not into that.”
“I’m a player?” His wintery voice was enough to draw her attention back to him and his glaring eyes.
“You’re angry,” she said, genuine surprise coloring her voice.
“What makes me a player?”
Well, she had seen lots of women traipsing in and out of his house when she was still with Tay. However, the way Marcel was glowering at her said she needed to tread lightly if she wanted to preserve their new friendship. She turned to the TV. On screen, Madea unleashed her anger on a middle schooler.
“That little girl’s in trouble,” Olivia exclaimed while avoiding looking at Marcel. “She needs to start running.”
Despite the comedy playing on screen and Olivia’s running commentary, Marcel’s anger still burned between them. She threw a side-glance his way to find him staring at her sulkily. Sighing heavily she turned to face him.
“I didn’t mean it.” She squeezed his thigh. “Stop being angry at me.”
He didn’t say anything but his eyes moved from hers to her hand on his thigh. The heavy muscles flexed beneath her thigh in a way that made her want to squeeze again. She quickly snatched her hand away and offered him a sheepish, “Sorry.”
He was silent for a moment then he turned to the TV. Still sounding a little grumpy, he said, “Don’t you have a better movie?”
“What?” she exclaimed. “This is an awesome movie. Tyler Perry directed it.”
His eyebrows shot up as he drawled, “Those are two mutually exclusive statements. Tyler Perry and awesome movie shouldn’t be said together in the same sentence.”
She offered him a horrified look. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?”
His lips twitched. “One of who?”
“The haters.” Her own lips tilted at the corner as she explained, “Y’all are so jealous of his success that you need to bring him down to your level. Green is an ugly color on you, Marcel. Ugly.”
“Please, I look good in green,” he scoffed even though he was now smiling.
She drew her head back to stare at him, picturing him in a green t-shirt. No doubt he’d look good in it too, but the man was already too confident. He didn’t need her blowing his head anymore, so she pursed her lips and shook her head. “I don’t see it.” She offered innocently, “Try on my green camisole so we can confirm.”
He threw his head back and laughed. And it was the sweetest sound she’d ever heard.
They were back.
Despite his hatred of all movies Tyler Perry, Marcel stayed. Olivia didn’t know when she drifted into sleep. When she came to, she found the side of her face pressed against a hard wall of muscle that was solid, warm and alive. She curled deeper into it, stretching her arm over more taut muscle.
The wall of muscle vibrated when a deep, husky voice above her said, “Make it fifteen.”
Moaning, she opened her eyes into thin slits and turned upwards. Marcel was on the phone. Glancing at her, he said to the person on the other end of the phone, “Okay, I’ll be waiting. Thanks.”
Still sleepy, Olivia lowered her head back to his shoulder and closed her eyes. She was vaguely aware that her arm, like one of her legs, was draped across him. But she was too sleepy to care, and he felt and smelt so good. She sighed in bliss when the arm he had around her back tightened.
He squeezed her waist. “Did I wake you?”
Her eyes still closed she nodded.
“I’m sorry.” His breath whispered over her hair before his lips touch her forehead. She burrowed deeper into his masculine warmth and bunched her fingers over the soft fabric of his t-shirt. He murmured, “My cab is on the way.”
Even though his words were but a murmur, t
hey were enough to draw her from her sleepy haze. Turning hooded eyes up to him, she asked, “You’re leaving?”
“Yeah.” His eyes never left hers as he tucked some loose strands of her hair behind her ear. “It’s late.”
If she wasn’t awake yet, the intensity of his gaze would’ve yanked her into alertness. It was almost as if he was memorizing her face; from her eyes to her lips. Tingles raced across the surface of her mouth reminding her of the kiss they’d shared. Her brain prodded with memories of the ‘just friends’ conversation they’d had before she’d drifted into sleep, but her body was in full control of the ship. She couldn’t drag herself from his mesmerizing stare if she wanted.
“Marcel,” she whispered. This time he was the one who did it.
Tilted her chin upwards and went right for her lips.
The first touch of their lips was like a lightning bolt straight through all her nerves. It lit them up like fireworks. And when he soothed then caressed her mouth with his, all her thoughts halted. Even logic couldn’t pierce through the sweet haze that eclipsed her senses as she parted her lips to let him in.
He gently thrust in, his tongue stroking her and his taste mingling with hers. As if what he was doing to her mouth wasn’t enough torture, his hand lowered to her waist then to her ass. Within moments he had on his lap and faster still on her back. Her breath hitched when the couch dipped beneath her weight and her head touched the cushions, but Marcel swallowed the sharp sound with another scorching kiss.
His lips never left hers as came over her, parting her legs and fitting his muscular thighs between hers. The feel of his broad chest on her pillowy one was heavenly. Almost as heavenly as his heavy erection pressing into her sex. His rock-hard length slid sinuously over her pussy in tune with the wicked rhythm of his tongue against hers.
She shivered as desire spread through all her nerve endings, her breasts swelled and wetness pooled in her lower body. Looping her arms around his shoulders, she wrapped her legs around his flanks so he could hit that spot right. He separated their lips, but it was only so he could nuzzle the side of her neck with kisses and licks. His breathing was quick and uneven as he ground his cock into her as if trying to fuck her with their clothes on.
“Aah,” she whimpered when he ground harder into her. Tugs of desire so sharp lanced through her that she could only close her eyes and arch her back, surrendering to him.
“Olivia.” His voice was deep and gruff and his moan desperate as he dragged his lips from her neck and back to her mouth. She could taste his desire and frustration in the unrelenting press of his lips on hers and the almost violent flicks of his tongue. She could feel it in the way he grabbed her hair and the hard grind of his body against hers.
He wanted her.
Yet, he did nothing to divest her of her clothes and get what he wanted.
It was then that she understood how conflicted he must feel; to want someone so much yet be bound by loyalty. As much as she wanted him and he wanted her, he’d regret it if they went past this point. If they did this, she didn’t want regret marring the experience. So despite all her instincts protesting it, she ended the kiss.
“Marcel,” she murmured his name as she soothed her hands over his shoulders. “Stop.” He tried to get at her lips again but she turned her face and shook her head. “No.”
He paused with his body still over hers, but eventually got the message and heaved off her to sit back on the couch. “Sorry. I just-” He scrubbed his hand over his face before bending forward with his elbows on his knees.
Lifting from her prone position, she scooted closer to him on her knees. Though she was herself still trembling with unspent desire, she soothed her hand over his back. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged off her hand. “Give me a minute.”
She settled beside him, watching him in silence as he struggled to rein in his arousal. She would’ve left him alone, but she was afraid that he would storm out like she’d done last time and this time she’d never see him again. In a few minutes, his rough breaths evened out.
He turned his head towards her. “I’m sorry, Livy. I shouldn’t have-”
“No, no, it’s okay,” she interrupted before they could start another ‘talk’. Who knew what he’d suggest this time. She rushed on, “It was an accident.”
He watched her in contemplative silence with an impenetrable expression for a few uncomfortable seconds. Seconds that had her thinking he might backtrack on his friendship offer. But then he nodded sharply. “Yeah, it was an accident.”
“… that won’t happen again,” she assured him, even though the heat still cruising body decried that announcement.
“That won’t happen again,” he repeated, but with more determination in his voice. Hopefully that determination would be enough for both of them because she wasn’t too sure about hers.
CHAPTER 17
“That’s a load of bullshit,” Sebastien pronounced when he learnt of their agreement. “There’s no way you’ll stay just friends with that woman.”
“I’m capable of staying friends with a woman,” Marcel protested, running a hand over his unshaven jaw as he flipped through the channels on TV. He was in a white wife-beater, basketball shorts and socks; appropriate wear for a weekend sleepover.
Rasheeda was out of the city for some Medical Examiner conference or something. Marcel had stayed over to help his brother with the twins and ended up confessing his friendships with Olivia.
“I didn’t say a woman. I said that woman.” Sebastien clarified, stretching his longs legs in front of him. Like his brother, he was dressed casually in a basic t-shirt, worn jeans and his feet were bare. “With the way you’ve been feening over Olivia for the last five months I give you one week tops before you make a move.”
“I haven’t been feening over her.”
“Who are you kidding?” Sebastien chuckled. “None of us bought your ‘I hate her’ act. Why do you think Tay went to so much trouble to make you think she was a ho?”
Marcel didn’t waste time defending himself. Sebastien had it right. His nastiness to Olivia had been a way of pushing her away so he wouldn’t have to admit his interest in her. Tay’s lies had just given him the impetus to keep deluding himself. But now that the lid was blown off all those lies and false suppositions, there was no hiding from his desire from her.
Marcel queried, “On a scale of one to ten how weird would it be if something were to happen between us?”
His brother didn’t even blink. “Twelve, maybe fifteen. Tay won’t like you trespassing on his territory.”
“She’s not his territory,” snapped Marcel.
“Tell that to him.”
Again Sebastien was right. Marcel couldn’t imagine himself being okay with Tay dating one of his exes - and he was the cool-headed one. Mr. Drama Harrison would probably blow a gasket if he ever found.
“Tell me something,” Sebastien broke into his brother’s thoughts. “How much do you like Olivia?”
How much did he like Olivia? There was no way of quantifying his excitement when he was with her or the emptiness when he wasn’t. He rubbed his jaw and stayed silent.
Sebastien’s eyebrows shot up. “That much?”
Marcel shrugged.
His brother watched him in thoughtfully silence for a long moment then sighed. “You know I don’t like messy bullshit and this is guaranteed to be messy. But if she means that much to you, then screw the weird and come clean with Tay. Let the dominoes fall where they will.”
“I wish it was that easy-” The sudden opening of a door down the hall of the ranch-style spacious house cut into his words. It was followed by the pattering of little feet and paws toward the living room.
“Daddy?” Five year-old twins, Rio and Rome appeared in the archway dressed in their pajamas with Pig and his sister, Zeus at their heels. The boys bore a stunning similarity to Marcel and Sebastien when they were younger; dark skin, slender and taller than average. The o
nly difference between them was that Rome had a bush of hair rather than his brother’s close-cut fade. If history was anything to go by he’d probably shave his fro like Sebastien had shaved his.
“What are you two doing up?” Sebastien asked, even as he opened his arms for his kids.
“Nooothing.” They clambered onto to the couch on either side of him and cuddled up against him sleepily. It was a wonder watching Sebastien with his boys. How he turned from cool, calm, collected to warm and loving. Even though he and Rasheeda had their problems, Marcel had never doubted that to Sebastien, his family trumped everything.
Marcel envied him. As much as Sophie had jaded him, a part of him still wanted what Sebastien had; a woman to love and kids. It was the reason he hadn’t sold his house even though it was too large for a single man. Maybe with Olivia he could…
He shook his head. Won’t happen! Can’t happen!
He needed to stop thinking of her as relationship material. They were just friends.
Sebastien was wrong.
Marcel and Olivia lasted two weeks.
In those two weeks they’d managed to go out more times than real couples did. They’d had two lunches with Lex dragged along to make it look innocent, a dinner after training and watching the newly released X-Men. Marcel knew he should put more distance between them but he couldn’t gather the willpower. They weren’t doing anything wrong, he convinced himself. There had been no more kissing or inappropriate touching.
They were just friends and friends went out all the time.
Thursday afternoon found them on one of those friendly excursions. This time there were in Broken Wand Costumes picking out outfits for Thane’s Murder Mystery night. The costume-rental store was nestled on the second floor of a mall a distance away from both their workplaces.
The store was a beehive of clients milling around and testing out costumes. Its well-lit interior was a whirl of fabric, accessories and mirrored walls, divided into different sections. Each section was labeled by period or character. From Greek to Vikings, fictional characters to famous people, known animals to fictional monsters; the shelves, clothes racks and wall arms were crammed with costumes appropriate for each.
