Page 57 of The Genius
“No, it’s fine.” I picked up the t-shirt he’d lent me and didn’t tell him that I liked how it smelled of him.
“All right. Suit yourself.”
After cleaning our teeth, and Marco getting some clothes from his room, we stood in the hallway – me in his t-shirt, him naked, holding the clothes in front of his crotch.
“Then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You could sleep with me in the bed, if you’d like. Maybe we could snuggle,” I suggested.
Marco shook his head. “Nah, I’d better sleep on the couch in case Storm comes back early. I wouldn’t want him to know what happened between us.” He moved toward the living room.
“Right.” Disappointment filled me as I watched him walk away.
“Sweet dreams,” he said over his shoulder.
“Marco.”
He stopped. “Yeah?”
“What do you think Storm would say if he found us in the same bed?”
“He would assume we were getting married. Since you don’t want that, there’s no need for him to know anything. He wouldn’t understand.”
I fiddled with the hem of his t-shirt, asking the painful question on my mind. “Are you ashamed of sleeping with me?”
Marco walked back at a slow pace, his forehead wrinkled in frown lines. “Shelly, we agreed that we didn’t want anyone to know.”
“Yes.”
“You want me to tell Storm now?”
“No.”
“Good, then let’s just stick to the plan. I know it’s unconventional, but if anyone can make it work, it’s us.”
I didn’t respond, but just stood there and watched him give me a small smile and walk away again, his naked behind firm and round.
“Why?”
Marco turned for the second time, this time with a sigh. “Why what?”
“Why can we make it work better than anyone?”
He lifted a hand. “Because we were never in love and we never made any promises. You asked me not to get possessive and I won’t.”
“Nmen typically are possessive by nature.”
“True. But you made it clear that you’re not interested in me as a mate.”
“I only said that I wouldn’t marry you and that I have work in the Motherlands.”
“Exactly.”
An inner voice shouted that I wanted nothing more than to be Marco’s mate, but I wasn’t a fifteen-year-old girl with juvenile dreams anymore. I understood that culturally we were too different and that we could never make each other happy.
“Will you be possessive of Louisa?” It just slipped out.
“That’s different. If I win her, she’ll be my wife.”
