Page 57 of Rules to Love By

Marcus nodded, though Eli wouldn’t see it. Of course he would. He was that guy. “I’ll be here,” he promised and, to his own surprise, realized he meant it.

The prospect of cuddling into bed with a bowl of oatmeal to watch a movie sounded really nice. And with Eli’s company? His chest tightened at the thought, but thankfully, his guts remained calm.

After another moment, he heard the bedroom door open and close. That was probably his cue to get out of the bath. Eli was giving him the privacy to get up and get dressed without an audience. Not that that it mattered. Eli had already seen all there was to see. Literally.

Just when he was about to stand up, there was a knock on the room’s door.

“Hello?” Marcus scooped suds into his lap.

The outer door opened slowly. “Robes,” Lucky called, and then the door closed again and there was silence.

“He didn’t even wait for me to open the door,” Marcus muttered. “What if I’d been out of the bath already, standing in the other room, naked?”

The pipes to his tub rattled.

“Oh. I’m so sorry, madame. Of course you wouldn’t let that happen.”

The lights dimmed gently, then came back up.

Marcus smiled. “Thanks, Mildred. Good to know you got my back.”

When he did stand up, his legs were much less wobbly than they’d been getting in. Maybe he should be grateful to Eli for insisting on it. Almost like the guy knew what he was doing. Which made Marcus wonder. Because what kind of sex did he have if it was never spontaneous, but he knew how to look after a guy who melted down after?

And if he was being honest, did Marcus really want to know the answer to that question?

Once he was mostly dried, he wandered back to the main room to find the robes Lucky had left. Only instead of robes, there was a neat square of his own clothes: socks, underwear, a T-shirt and pair of sweats.

“Honestly. What did Eli tell them?” Another question he wasn’t sure he wanted an answer to. Instead of dwelling on it, he dressed, gathered up his “date” clothes and hung them over the back of a chair, then settled, on top of the covers, before flicking on the television.

Maybe Eli wasn’t serious about wanting to stay for a movie, but if Marcus was already outed for everything anyway, he would enjoy the room for the rest of the night. Soon enough he’d have to endure the walk of shame. Might as well save that special indignity until morning. With any luck, he’d at least be well rested.

He found a Marvel movie in progress and chose it, then fluffed up the pillows, curled on his side and settled in to wait. Experience told him his brain would fumble through every foggy, indistinct memory of this most-recent experience, taunting him with vague ideas of how he’d humiliated himself.

Only this time, unlike most guys in his position, Eli hadn’t afforded Marcus the luxury of checking out. He’d insisted Marcus remain focused for all of it, so the memories weren’t vague or uncertain. Nor could he deny that he’d enjoyed it.

Not that he ever denied enjoying it, but he didn’t often admit it. Most guys didn’t get it and took off fast after. And if they did understand, they always seemed up for testing exactly how far they could push him before he stopped liking it and yielded just to get it over with. And then they’d be gone, while he tried hard to both remember what he’d done and forget all about it.

Eli had done none of those things. He hadn’t freaked out, and he hadn’t sprinted out the door. He’d been kind after, and Marcus didn’t know what to do about that.

Marvel’s Cinematic Universe scrolled by in the background as he lay there trying to figure it out.

When the door swung open some time later, it was Tris standing there with a tray holding a glass of water, a steaming bowl, and a vase with a rose.

Marcus frowned but decided, once again, if it had been anyone wishing him ill, Mildred wouldn’t have allowed them entrance.

“Hey.” Tris shuffled inside. “The flower’s from Eli.”

“Sweet.” His gut slithered and folded over itself, so he didn’t try to sit up. “Guess he had someplace else to be.”

“The hallway.” Tris wagged his head towards the half-open door, which didn’t budge.

Because you’re an interfering heap of bricks.But then, if he wanted the reassurance of her protection, maybe he had to put up with the annoyance of her interference, as well.

Ignoring the door and the house’s intentions, Tris set the tray on the table and approached the bed. “He wanted me to make sure it was okay with you that he came back up. What happened? Because I don’t care how big he is, or how much Kreed likes him, I will throat punch him if he did something to you. What’s wrong?” His nostrils flared. “Who puked? Marcus, what’s going on? Do I have to bitch slap him?”

Marcus actually chuckled. “Breathe, my little pink porcupine.”

“Very funny.” Tris combed fingers through his hair. “It’s lilac, not pink.”

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