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With tears in my eyes, I turn and start to flee, and Marshall close behind me, his one stride matching every four or five of my waddles.

“No,” Marshall mutters, stopping in his tracks. “You know what?”

Marshall’s retreating footsteps have me turning just in time for me to see him land a left hook dead in my father’s face, making him stumble and fall to the floor.

“Make any more comments about Elsie being unfit to be a mother, and I’ll do much worse than a punch to the face.” Marshall asserts. “Elsie is the best woman I know, and she’s going to be the most amazing parent, unlike you, you asshole.”

I stand there in shock as my father tries to gather himself to rise from the ground, but Marshall pushes him back down.

“You stay the fuck away from my family.” He growls.

For all the years of torment that my father put me through, I’ve never had anyone stand up for me like that.

“Let’s go, Elsie,” Marshall says quietly, shaking out his injured hand and placing it between my shoulder blades to guide me away. “I’m so sorry.”

I finally tear my gaze away from my father, still sprawled out on the floor, and look up at him.

“What for?” I ask, confusion lacing my tone.

“I didn’t know he’d be here.” He admits. “I just wanted to do something nice for you.”

“You planned this?” I say with a squeak. “The surprise shower? That was all you? I thought it was Selene or one of the girls.”

“I mean, they were a huge help.” Marshall shrugs, guiding me out of the building and to his truck. “But it was my idea to do it here. And now I’ve punched your dad...”

“Father.” I correct.

“Right, father. Well, my fist landed in his face, and I’m probably gonna get slapped with assault charges.”

I break out in a genuine laugh, knowing my father would never dare do such a thing for fear of drawing the attention of his friends to the shame of being punched to the ground.

“Marshall. There’s no way you could have known he would be here.” I sigh. “I never told you anything other than my fond memories here.”

“Still...” He bends down to lift me into the passenger seat of the truck without my usual objections.

I missed having his hands on me, and when he leans in to buckle my seatbelt, I shudder at his nearness. The musky natural scent of his cologne invades my space, and I gasp at the need it drives through my body.

The short drive home, I can’t help but shift uncomfortably in my seat. Need builds between my legs with every moment I spend in the car with Marshall until my body is screaming for his touch.

When we pull into the parking garage, and Marshall comes to help me out of the truck, his hands on my hips as he helps me lower down are like gasoline to my fire of desire.

Ignoring the feeling, I waddle to the elevator, making sure to plaster myself against the opposite wall from Marshall for fear of jumping him.

When we reach our floor, I scurry as quickly as I can away from him.

“I’m going to lay down for a nap,” I say as he sets down some of the gifts he brought up.

“Alright. I’ll bring the rest of the stuff up, then I think I need to go for a run.” He replies simply and turns before I can reply.

In the safety of my bedroom, I throw off my clothes and collapse on the bed.

But sleep doesn’t come. Instead, I toss and turn, listening to Marshall come in and out of the apartment as he unloads the truck and then finally leaving for his run.

With each passing moment, my need from earlier builds into a hot inferno at my core.

Guilt keeps me from satisfying my own needs, even though I need relief more than I need air at this point.

I keep remembering the look on Marshall’s face as he backed away from my father after punching him. How his muscles rippled underneath his layered shirts and his taught ass as he swung through on the punch.

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