Page 3 of Marshmallow
She smiles. “Likewise. If you’d like to follow me, I’ve got everything set up for you in the room. We make the boys get ready in the hallway, so the girls get the fancy stuff.” She gives me a wink that makes me smile in return, and I decide I like her.
Carter
“Ready to woo your queen?” Saffron Spark smiles as she nudges me with her shoulder.
“They can photo shop hard ons out, right?” I smirk.
Saffron laughs. She’s a tiny little thing, barely five foot five which makes her look like a Smurf next to my six three. She’s wearing casual jeans and a pale pink button-up shirt that’s open enough to show the white Tee she has on underneath. Her blonde hair is tied in a messy ponytail on the top of her head, dark-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, framing kind brown eyes. She well into her forties, but has that girlish quality about her that makes me forget she’s a whole teenager older than me.
Being a romance author, she loves all things love related. The fact I asked her to team me up with Marsha specifically made her cotton on to the fact there was an attraction—although some might call it an obsession—there. Naturally, I spilled my guts, and now Saffron is desperate to know how this ‘love at first Instagram contact’ turns out.
“You might want to tape it to your hip or something so you don’t scare the poor girl off. She looked petrified coming off that elevator. Although it was adorable the way you caught her when she tripped. I’m totally putting that in the book.”
“Something tells me you’ll be putting all of this in a book.”
“You got me there. I’ll add my embellishments, but you’ve definitely inspired me. I’m rooting for this to all work out.”
I give her a smile, glancing at the door my gorgeous Marshmallow just disappeared through. I think about how good and how right it felt to hold on to her, how perfect her skin felt against my palms, how amazing she smelled, and I feel certain that that woman is my home. “It’ll work out,” I say with certainty. In my thirty-three years, I’ve never reacted to a woman the way I react to Marsha. There is something intrinsically different about her, something that calls me to her and lets me know I need her in my life. This has to work out. There’s no other way this can go.
Marsha
“He’s super nice too,” Tiff says as she opens the curling iron and lets my hair tumble over my shoulders. “I’ve done a few of these shoots with him, and he’s not uptight or in love with himself like a lot of male models are. He’s a total gentleman, always professional, and never sleazy.”
“Oh,” I say. “That’s nice.” Although I can’t help the disappointment that blooms in my stomach. I wouldn’t mind Carter being a little sleazy with me. Well, notsleazyexactly, but forward, tantalizing. That would be something I could take home and hold on to, something to imagine on those long lonely nights when I’m painfully aware that Instagram followers don’t keep me warm and hold me when I need it. I need a man for that. But a man—the kind I’m attracted to—is difficult to find. If my ideal man was a superhero, he’d be Hulk. Not green, butbigall over, and so strong that he could throw me around like a rag doll (#punyhuman) but they tend to like tiny girls. Of which I am not.
Carter is a hulk of a man. I felt tiny looking up at him when he stopped me from falling. Am I the right size for him?A girl can dream…
“Is he attached?” Georgia asks, glancing at me because she knows I’m desperate for the answer too. I know it’s silly to get my hopes up, but he’s so good looking, and I swear I felt something in the way he looked at me in that hall. He might have just been being nice, but my god, he said he hoped I’d fall for him.Please don’t have been a joke.
I want him to like me—no,want me—so bad.
“I’m not sure,” Tiff says, running her fingers through my hair to loosen the curls. “He keeps really quiet about his personal life, but I assume he’s single. He travels a lot.” She shrugs like that’s all the explanation needed, and I guess it is because travel isn’t really conducive to having a successful relationship.I’d happily travel with him…
I give myself a mental head slap. I’m getting ahead of myself. The guy made what was probably a joke and now I’m reading too far into it. Tiff said he’s a professional and never hits on any of the women he works with. I need to stop my hopeful mind from running away with its own little fantasy where this gorgeous man is my perfect mate and we fall madly in love then run off into the sunset together. It’s a nice dream. But that’s all it’ll ever be. I’m crazy to think otherwise.
Carter
I’m being totally crazy. All I can think about is claiming this woman then running off into the sunset together. Literally.
We’ve barely spoken and I’m already making plans about how we’re going to blend our lives.
I have lost my fucking mind.
Although I guess that’s expected when all my blood flow is directed straight at my cock. The damn thing won’t go down. I need her that bad.
“We’re all set.” Jeff, the photographer on the shoot, pokes his head out of the room we’re doing the shoot in.
My heart starts off at a gallop in my chest as I move toward the door. Saffron let’s out a tiny excited squeak as she follows behind, but I’m not focusing on her, or anyone else around us. The only person my senses can lock on to is Marsha. And she’s a sight to behold.
“Wow,” is all I can say as I move across the room to her. They have her in this silky looking corset, emerald green with black lace around the edges, black silk panties with black suspenders and stockings. I’m fucking dead. If I dare lower my eyes to where her tits are spilling out in creamy waves, I’m gonna come in my pants and embarrass myself. “You look amazing.”
“Thanks.” She speaks in a gasp as she runs her hand over the bodice. “I can hardly breathe, but I love it. I have no idea how I’m supposed to get out of it later. But for now, I feel like Dita Von Teese.”
“Maybe I can help you out it when we’re through,” I say, not giving a fuck if I’m coming off as too forward. This woman needs to understand here and now that she is mine. I claim her. My body and my mind agree she’s everything I want and need. And I’m not a man who jumps into bed with the first attractive woman he sees. I’m particular with whom I bed, and recently, I’ve noticed myself searching for something more than a simple attraction. I’m searching for a woman who ignites something inside me. I’m positive that woman is standing in front of me.
The rest will work itself out. I’ve made my decision. Marsha Foster belongs to me.
Marsha
