Page 73 of Missed Steps
I silently brainstorm date ideas that are more engaging than trivia night. It’s a barrier that everything Mark and I used to do together involved extremely physical activities, and I’d prefer to do something where Mark doesn’t need to worry about me. I’m still lost in my thoughts, drawing a complete blank when we pull up at the apartments.
“Here,” I hand the taxi driver money. “See you Monday—no, it’s okay, you don’t need to walk me to the door, I’ll manage,” I say as Mark unbuckles. “You don’t need to go calling another taxi that way.”
Mark hesitates, and I see his focus swarm to the here and now. “I can’t come in?”
I blink. “Oh, yeah, of course, I thought—yeah, no problem.”
Mark gets out of the taxi after me and trots to my side, snagging my hand. I pretend he’s not staring at my face with a troubled look as he squeezes my fingers.
“You were quiet,” I say, giving in. “I thought you wanted to go home.”
“Sorry,” Mark sighs.
“You don’t need to be sorry.” I shrug. “Can’t help it if you were bored.” Even as I say it, I know that isn’t really it. It was something unrelated to me, but I feel weird. I’m used to Mark paying full attention to me, I guess. And maybe I’m a little shy after we slept together.
“I wasn’t bored.”
We step into the building out of the night’s chill and walk to the elevator. Mark looks at me again with that troubled expression. He tugs me to his chest as I press the button. “Sorry for being grumpy,” he says, stroking my side. “Damien was calling, and I don’t want to talk to him.”
That much I figured out.
“My family always hosts a winter party, and my brother is so damn annoying about trying to drag me to it,” Mark adds, grumbling. His arm tightens around me and his grip anchors me to him. “It’s a stupid dance. All networking. It’s extremely boring, and I know one way or another I’ll end up having to go. I didn’t mean to be grumpy with you.”
“You weren’t grumpy,” I say. “Just distracted. I wasn’t trying to give out to you about it either.”
The elevator pings open and we step on. I press the button with Mark clinging to my back. His weight unbalances me, and I grab the railing at my elbow to balance. Mark chuckles, and—
“Wait, are you drunk?” I realise abruptly. He’s been drinking fast since the first round, but I didn’t think much of it since Tommy was easily keeping pace. But Tommy is a heavyweight. Is Mark?
Mark tightens his arms on me. “Maybe a bit,” he admits. He nuzzles the back of my neck, making me shiver. “See, you should think about these things, Kyle,” he admonishes. “You wanted to send me home, drunk and alone, to stumble around and end up in a ditch somewhere.”
“I didn’t realise!” I object. He chuckles before I even finish speaking, and pecks a gentle kiss to the back of my neck. Goosebumps break out over my skin as I grip the railing.
“I love this spot,” Mark says, reaching up to tease his fingers into my hairline, gently stroking my scalp. My weight tips heavily to the railing as arousal trickles through my body in small, powerful waves. “It’s so soft, and you always smell good. Whenever I tease here you melt in my arms.”
My eyes are half-lidded as the elevator doors open. My breaths come heavy and I feel weighted, doing exactly as Mark said—sinking into his arms.
“Knees weak, Kyle?” Mark teases.
I feel vibrating against my side. “Your phone is ringing. Again.”
“I don’t really care anymore,” Mark says. My legs are swept from under me. My heart wrenches, though I don’t cry out—I’ve learned there’s no danger of Mark dropping me. He holds me bridal-style, pressing a dozen kisses to my jaw as he steps out of the elevator and walks to the apartment.
At Mark’s insistence, I unlock the front door from his arms. “Wait,” I mumble when I see the lights are already on as the door swings inwards. “I don’t want Chris to see you carrying me.”
Too late. Chris stands at the edge of the kitchen island where he has a clear view of us stepping in. His eyes flick over us, landing on my face as it catches fire.
Mark steps in, heeling the front door shut behind him. “Kyle is tired,” he says in explanation. Everything about his voice is smugness, as if he’s won some victory over Chris. I pinch his arm. “Put me down,” I grumble, aggrieved.
Mark presses a kiss to my cheek instead. “Of course,” he says, walking into the apartment. “Onto the bed. Goodnight, Chris,” he adds absently.
I press my cheek against Mark’s collarbone, avoiding eye contact as I pass him. “Night, Chris,” I mumble.
Chris sighs heavily. “I’m heading out for my training camp early, so if I might not see you before I fly out. I’ll leave breakfast in the oven for the morning. Goodnight.”
I call out a thank you.
Mark shuts the door to my room behind him, and I glare. “Why do you have to pick fights with him like that?” I complain.
