Page 17 of Romancing the Rude Guy

“It’s July first.”

In my excitement, I turn my body, and his left arm presses right in between my breasts. We both freeze. Wide eyes lock on each other’s.

Slowly, he lifts his right hand and grazes his fingers along the curve of my cheek. “Alice?” he murmurs.

My eyelids lower at his warm touch. “Hmmm…”

“What is this?”

At his question, I fully open my eyes. “Umm… lunch?”

“No.” He feathers a thumb along my lower lip before withdrawing his hand and gesturing between the two of us. “This, you and me.”

I slide my tongue along my lip, heat pooling in my core from the way his green gaze follows my tongue’s movements. “I’m not sure,” I admit in a husky whisper.

Marcus angles his upper body, slipping his arm around my waist, his large hand cupping the top of my hip. “My social calendar is pretty full and I’m not getting any younger.”

“Neither am I.”

Those dark pink lips of his loom closer and I can feel his breath puffing lightly against my mouth. “I was joking,” he says, staring deeply into my eyes.

“Me too.”

He tightens his arm around me, drawing me closer against him as he reaches out and cups my jaw. His face lowers until our mouths are almost flush, but still he holds back.

I part my lips, about to beg him just to kiss me when his mouth slowly bridges the remaining distance and presses sweetly to mine.

Softly and hesitantly, his mouth moves over mine. His tongue glides along the seam of my lips and a moan builds in my throat as I open to him.

He tastes of strawberries and mint, reminding me of summer. I clutch the sides of his shirt as we kiss, and I ache to get even closer. All too soon he breaks the kiss and pulls away, his breath puffing from between his moist, parted lips as his wide eyes regard me.

“We’re dating,” he says firmly.

All I can do is nod.

“Dinner, tomorrow at my house. I’ll text you the address.”

I blink at his bluntness.

A quick grin curls up his lips. “This time I need to eat and run. I have an appointment.”

“We didn’t even eat our lunch,” I protest.

Marcus quickly hands me the empty strawberry pie container and transfers himself back to his wheelchair.

“We had pie and something far sweeter,” he says, giving me another grin.

“Tomorrow?” he prompts.

“Yes.”

He positions his legs and then he’s off without another word.

Watching him go, I notice people giving him a wide berth as he rolls past.

He’s not at all who I envisioned myself falling for.

Surprisingly I’m unbothered by that and pull out my lunch and phone even though I know I’ll do nothing but think about that kiss and his declaration that we were now dating the rest of not only my lunch break but also probably until I see him again.

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