Page 21 of Mark & Don't Tell

He hums and releases me to do just that. I slide off him and curl against his body, wrapping my arms around him and resting my head on his chest.

“Can I keep you?” I ask with a laugh. Vic doesn’t answer, and when I look up at him, I catch a hard line between his eyebrows. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he rasps, looking away. “Are you feeling better?”

I don’t know what I did or said, but I can’t help feeling like I’m in trouble. “Uh, yeah.”

He glances at me. “Don’t lie to me.”

I bite my lip. “If you want to go, it’s okay,” I say, voice small. Clearly, my teasing question bothered him. This club isn’t for me to find someone to keep. He’s probably trying to figure out how to let me down gently.

“You’re thinking too hard,” he chastises. “Just let me hold you.”

And that’s it, his eyes say.

There will be no keeping. Of course he’s not mine, he never will be. “Okay,” I say, pinching my eyes shut and soaking up this moment because I don’t know if I’ll ever experience anything like it again.

My neck feels strangely bare. Last night, Vic took off the collar, sliding it back into his pocket and out of my reach. I know it’s dumb, but I felt like he’d struck me. I sigh and glance at the clock. I need to get ready for dinner at my dads’. Their new mate, Lettícia, wanted to introduce the rest of her family to me.

Though I like Lettícia, I’m not really feeling social. Regardless, I have to go. My dads mean everything to me. They’re the ones who stayed when Mom left. They’re the ones who picked up the pieces of my broken heart every time I went to see Mom. They’ve always been my rocks.

My phone buzzes, and I grab it on the way to my room, checking the message and ignoring the ache deep in my core. How is it that I still feel Vic inside of me? Is he some sort of magician?

Jane

So, what did you think?

About the club or the toys?

Both. Did you find someone to play with?

I debate telling her no and keeping the memory all to myself, but it would be silly to lie.

Yeah. It was . . . an experience.

Right? I mean, it was fun, but it felt kind of transactional, you know? I don’t think I’d do it again.

Transactional? That’s not how it felt with Vic. With Vic, it felt like I was protected. Like he was taking care of me. And I would do it again in a heartbeat; only, when we parted ways, he didn’t give me his number. He simply took the collar, brushed his lips over my forehead, and walked away without looking back.

Is it dumb that I’m sad at the thought of never seeing him again?

Probably.

I blow out a hard breath and look at myself in the floor-length mirror in my bedroom. My neck is covered in pretty little reminders of his lips on my skin. If I lift my shirt, I know I’ll find his marks all over my skin. Proof that it was real. My chest clenches and I shake my head. Don’t be pathetic.

Jane is waiting for my reply.

Yeah, I get what you mean. I think I got some inspiration for my pitch, though.

Same! See you at work on Monday?

I reply to her and toss my phone aside, staring at the hickeys covering my throat. I hate to cover them, but that might not be the best first impression for meeting my new uncles—step-uncles?—and step grandma. With a heavy heart, I grab a turtleneck tank top that I pair with my favorite skinny jeans and ankle boots. Thanks to a little extra care today, my curls are in good shape, so I leave them loose and apply a simple coating of mascara and lip balm, hoping my lips don’t look too abused.

I grab my phone and purse, locking my apartment door behind me. Since John, my sleazy landlord, lives on the first floor, I rush down the stairs and past his door, but he opens it and calls my name.

“Sorry, I have to go,” I tell him without looking back.

“Rent is due next week!” he shouts after me.

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