Page 85 of Love Marks

Ding!

The elevator doors slide open, and I step out in a daze. The familiar smell of the place assaults me and I’m hit with a double pang of guilt and desire. I cross into the living room and put my bag down with a heavy sigh.

“Quinn.”

I look up at the sound and Wesley is crossing the room towards me, the corners of his mouth ticked upwards. I push down the bubble of warmth at the sight of it — how incredible that little upwards twitch makes me feel — and stand abruptly, putting my palm out to stop him from touching me.

“Did you tell Sharon about us?”

His face scrunches in confusion. “What?”

“Sharon.” My voice sounds hard. “At the front desk. What did you say to her?”

His confusion gives way to slight irritation. “What are you talking about?”

I throw my hands up, frustrated. “Sharon told me about the review you wrote! You can’t just say nice stuff about me just because we slept together. I don’t want any favors in exchange for sex, that’s not what I’m doing.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” He rears his head back, his jaw clenched. “I wrote that stupid thing two weeks ago, and my opinion is the same now as it was then. You are much too good to spend your time washing my fucking sheets and we will find you something better. Whether we’re intimate or not, that doesn’t change.”

His chest rises and falls with the end of his speech, his dark eyes burning into mine. I step backwards and look away from him, needing relief from the intensity of his words.

“Oh,” I finally manage to say. “Okay. Thank you. I’m sorry.”

He nods once, a sharp, simple movement, an acceptance of my apology. It’s quiet again.

He clears his throat. “I wanted to talk to you more about it tonight. If you’d still like to get dinner with me, that is.”

“Of course,” I say, a little too quickly. My past anger quickly gives way to excitement. “I brought a dress. A short one.”

His eyes darken and he meets my gaze, quirking an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

I nod, a slow smile spreading across my face. He almost lets a full smile peak out, but he presses his lips into a line.

“I’m leaving for the day, but I’ll be back around six to pick you up. Can you meet me downstairs?”

“Sure,” I agree easily, hoping my face doesn’t look too eager. He nods again and glances towards the elevator, shifting on his feet, hesitating. He looks back at me, his brow furrowed.

“Can I kiss you?”

My legs turn to jelly. I breath out something close to a yes, my heart in my eyes as he crosses towards me and reaches for my face. His lips descend onto mine with a perfect warmth, his hands holding the side of my face. He deepens the kiss and runs his tongue along mine, circling his thumbs against my face.

He pulls backwards and I stumble towards him, still reaching out for more. He chuckles and presses his forehead to mine, his breath warm against mine.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, then pulls back and smooths out his tie, running his hand over his torso. “I’ll see you later.”

I can’t even form a response before he strides swiftly towards the elevator. He throws me a smile I’ve never seen from him — something close to playful — before he gives a small wave and exits.

For the rest of the day, I’m thinking about that little smile and wave and how they feel like they are just for me. My little piece of Wesley.

* * *

By the time 5 o’clock rolls around, I’m almost giddy with anticipation. I’ve finished cleaning — there wasn’t really much to do, anyways — so I give myself the hour to get ready and do my makeup.

I slip my work clothes off and change into the small black dress, the deep swoop leaving my back exposed. I take my braids out and squeeze some product into my hair, tossing my curls to add volume. Then I apply a light contour and a smokey eye, finishing off with mascara and a soft lipstick. I look good. Really good.

The elevator ride down to the lobby feels endless. My stomach flutters as the doors slide open and I cross the room to the exit. I step out into the cold air and suddenly feel like I’ve lost my breath. Wesley is leaning against his car, the Tesla he drove me back from the beach with, his hands folded across his chest. He looks incredible. I wish I were an artist so that I could paint him.

Without thinking, I move towards him, needing to be closer. His eyes seem to burn as he takes me in, scanning his eyes across my body.

---