Chapter 4 #2
Marc’s smile falters for a second, and for an even quicker moment, his warm eyes flash cold. As quick as it happened, his charm slips back into place. “Of course,” he teases. “I wasn’t suggesting anything. Just saying, if you ever need anything, someone to talk to, you know where to find me.”
“Thanks,” I lie, quietly. “I appreciate it.”
An awkward silence settles between us, and Marc lingers, his hand still on my shoulder as if debating whether he should say more.
“Well.” He sighs lightly, stepping past me. “Let’s get in there and get to work.”
Marc had always been good at toeing that thin line. Friendly enough, but never without an edge. It’s a reminder of what we were, or at least, what he thought we were.
Five Years Earlier
Barcelona
June
The Barcelona beach shimmers in the twilight, and the Mediterranean breeze carries the scent of salt and distant spaces.
I sit on a low beach chair with my toes buried into the soft sand, and sip from my drink.
The hum of lively conversation and music from a nearby bar blended with the soothing rhythm of the crashing waves.
Marc strolls toward me like he owns the shoreline, his white shirt unbuttoned halfway, a confident smile plastered across his face.
The golden light of the setting sun seems to enhance his natural magnetism, and it frames his caramel skin like a personal favor.
Even relaxed, he moves with the precision of someone who knew how to command attention.
“Mind if I join, papi?” he asks, lifting his drink, dark and cold, and nods to the empty chair beside me.
I tilt my head at him and grin. “I wasn’t sure if I had a choice.”
Marc laughs lightly and drops into the chair, close enough that our knees brushed. “You could’ve said no.”
“True,” I agree, taking a sip of my drink. “But then I’d miss out on your sparkling conversation.” I’m flirting dangerously now, but I don't seem to care.
Marc smirks. “And my company isn’t too bad either.”
For the next hour, as the sun dips below the horizon into the sparkling sea, we exchange stories.
Most real, and some exaggerated for entertainment purposes.
Marc leans closer every time he laughs, his body language both calculated and effortless, his charisma tangible.
He gives me his full attention, and it is… a lot.
“You ever think about what we’re doing here?” I ask suddenly, my voice soft and reflective.
Marc raises a brow. “Flying? Traveling? What part?”
“Living like this,” I gesture out at the ocean, the alcohol loosens my words. “We see the world, meet people, but it’s like nothing sticks. Ya’ know?”
He thoughtfully considers his response for a few moments, and he places a large hand on my thigh. “I guess that's part of the appeal for people? No strings.” He strokes my leg with his thumb, and I’m surprised at the warmth.
I smile, only for a second, and take a deep swig. “Of course. Freedom, right?”
“Exactly,” he says, looking into my eyes as he swirls his drink lazily. I move my gaze to the crashing waves. His damn eyes are like a dark pool that I could drown in. As dark as the deepest ocean.
“You’ve got a peculiar look,” he observes, leaning closer.
I raise a brow. “What look?”
“Like you’re trying to figure everything out,” he explains, a teasing lilt in his voice. “Like you’re trying to solve the greatest mysteries of the universe while the rest of us are just trying to enjoy the view.”
“I don’t think it's that deep,” I sneer, shaking my head softly.
“I just, I don’t know. I find moments like this fascinating.
The way people come together, the sounds, the energy, it’s all connected somehow.
But at a cost. I’ve been thinking lately how much I’ve given up at home.
With my life. I just don’t know if this is for me. The end-all-be-all.”
Marc leans back in his chair, kicking up sand. “And here I was thinking that you just found the sunset to be pretty.”
“Oh, it’s stunning,” I affirm. “But sunsets are everywhere. It’s hard to make them special.”
Marc’s smirk softens, and he squeezes my knee as he turns. “What makes them special, is how they frame the people you’re with. Like this. Right now.” He slowly raises his other hand to my face, a gentle cradle.
Those fucking eyes. Fuck.
“What’s your story, Cameron Hayes?” Marc tilts his head, studying me.
I find it hard to speak, but I finally choke out an answer, barely a whisper. “I think I’m still writing it.”
He holds his gaze and squeezes my leg before standing. “Well, if you ever need a co-author, guapo…”
I catch my breath. Damn, I’m screwed.
By the time we make it back to the hotel, the night is fully alive around us, energy buzzing in a way that only Barcelona could offer.
The doors of the elevator open with a soft chime and we step inside, and the air between us is charged, like the city’s electricity follows us inside.
The alcohol amplifies and sharpens every glance, every brush of our shoulders.
Marc leans casually against the mirrored wall, and catches my reflection with a slow smile.
“You’re staring,” I announce, breaking the silence.
“Can you blame me?” he murmurs, his voice low and smooth.
I cross my arms and lean back, watching the numbers glow as the elevator climbs.
“You seem tense.”
“Do I?” I shoot him a playful look. “Maybe I’m just bracing myself for whatever line you’re about to try on me.”
Marc scoffs playfully and pushes off the wall, stepping closer until he braces a hand beside my head, close enough that our breath mingles. “No lines. Just facts. Like the fact that you’re stunning. Or that I’ve been thinking about this all night.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “All night, huh? Confident, aren’t we?”
Marc shrugs. “Confidence gets results, Cam.”
I shake my head, but my eyes don’t match my protest. “You’re lucky you’re sexy.” My voice is low.
Marc leans in, his breath warm against my ear. “And you’re lucky I’m not afraid to make the first move.”
I don’t have a chance to reply, and I don’t want one. I just lean into Marc as he kisses me deeply, his tongue finding mine. A kiss that was both impulsive and maybe even inevitable.
The elevator dings, and neither of us move right away. I’m breathless and slightly disheveled. The doors began to close, and Marc shoots his arm out and grins as they open again.
“Your floor?” he asks me, voice low.
I grab him by the wrist and pull him into the corridor. “Come on.”
The door had barely clicked shut before we were on each other again, our lips meeting with a fervor that left no room for hesitation.
“Not wasting… any time… are you,” Marc teases between kisses, one hand finding my waist, the other sliding into my shorts, grabbing my ass.
“Why would I?” I reply as I pull Marc’s shirt up and over his shoulders. “Life may be… too short for hesitation,” I add as I drag my hands over his muscular, and surprisingly totally hairless chest.
Marc lets out a low growl that melts into a soft sigh as I trail my lips along his sharp jawline and down his neck. “You know,” he murmurs, his hands sliding under my shirt. “You’re full of surprises.”
I pull back and let him pull my shirt over my head, which he promptly whips to the floor. “You have no idea.”
He crashes his lips into mine again, raking his fingers through my hair, and I give little resistance as he pushes me backwards onto the bed.
He climbs on top of me, dragging his lips from my hip, to my chest, to the nape of my neck.
I let out a moan that sounds like a plea, and I arch my hips enough for him to pull off my shorts.
His hands explore my body in ways that send erotic shivers through me.
The way he pins my arms above my head and takes his time with me, it’s commanding and genuine, like he’s memorizing every moment and inch of my body.
I wake up first the next morning, and the sheets are tangled around us.
I rub sleep from my eyes and look at him sleepily.
He’s on my side, his hard body pressed against me, snoring slightly with his arm draped possessively across my waist. His features are softer in sleep, a vulnerability that isn’t visible when he’s awake.
The sunlight pours through the curtains and is way too bright, almost intrusive, and I blink against it when I step out of the bathroom, a towel slung low around my hips.
My hair is still damp, dripping a little onto my shoulders.
Marc was just beginning to stir awake, reaching across the bed for me, only finding empty sheets around his fingers.
“Morning,” I say, dragging a hand through my hair as I cross the room.
Marc propped himself up on his elbow and grins wild and lazily. “Que lindo. Now there’s something I could wake up to every day.”
I laugh under my breath and pull an undershirt from my suitcase. “Don’t get too used to it.”
Marc sighs as he plops back into the pillows and watches me move around the room. His observance bold and unfiltered. “Are you always this energetic after a night of getting fucked?”
“Maybe…” I shoot him a playful look over my shoulder. “Or maybe I just really like hotels with good water pressure.”
“Well, whatever it is,” he tilts his head back, staring at the ceiling, “you were… amazing, pa.”
“You were too.” I smirk, tugging the shirt over my head before sliding back into bed next to him. “But you already knew that.”
Marc rolls toward me, draping himself over me, placing a soft kiss under my ear, and pressing his hard cock into my thigh. “I’d say we make a pretty good team.”
“Yeah,” I say, letting out a light breath. “I guess we do. For one night anyway.”
Marc pulls back and raises an eyebrow. “Just one night?”
I shrug like it was nothing, keeping my voice casual. “I think we both know what that was. No strings. Just two tipsy guys blowing off steam.”
Marc hesitates. “Uh, yeah. For sure.”
“Is that okay?” I ask softly. “I just don’t think I want to commit to a relationship right now.”