Page 157 of Awakened by Sin

She licked her bottom lip and watched his eyes fixate on her mouth. “Yummy.”

His eyes were mossy green and mesmerizing in the blazing sun.

“How do you feel?”

“I’m a little sore.” Understatement, but he was a worry wort and she didn’t want him to hold back next time. “But I feel marvelous.” She paused and then added, “I’m hungry.”

He searched her eyes. “You’re fine?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t know if you’d feel differently this morning.”

“I feel fantastic.”

“I’m glad.”

She cupped his cheek. “You didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, you did everything right. You helpeda lot.”

“Always happy to lend a helping hand.”

She tipped her head back and laughed. “And to think I was thinking about hiring a mute gigolo for sex services.”

“Mute?”

His disgruntled expression made her snicker. “Most guys are sexier with their mouths closed.”

“And what about me?”

She pressed her finger against his lips. “You weave magic with that fucking mouth.”

His eyes dilated, and he stepped back. “You’re sore, and you’re hungry. Let’s feed you.”

“Okay.” She reached for the button of her jeans and laughed when he cursed and backed away as if she was contagious. “Kidding.”

The dining table had a fruit tray, toast, oatmeal, and bacon. She winced as she sat and reached for a strip of bacon. Marcus poured her a glass of orange juice and placed an assortment of fruit on a tiny plate. He was careful and deliberate in everything he did whether it was making sandwiches or choosing fruit. She was charmed and smitten and liking him more and more. Marcus was capable of beating his chest with the best of them, but he chose to adopt the opposite of Gavin’s demeanor, which made him more interesting to her.

“You’re a control freak,” she said.

Marcus paused in the act of shaking two pain pills from a bottle. “Excuse me?”

“Last night, you said you learned control at a young age.” She speared a piece of cantaloupe on her fork and raised a brow. “So spill.”

Marcus placed the pills beside her plate. “I didn’t have control over my life when I was younger. The only thing I could control was myself, so that’s what I did.”

She reached for another piece of bacon between pieces of fruit and ignored his grimace. “You mean, when you grew up in foster homes?”

“Yes.”

His tone was perfect—even and smooth. His expression was composed and unruffled. Even his body language was fluid as he spooned oatmeal into a bowl, sprinkled raspberries and blueberries artfully over it, and placed in front of her. Nothing on the surface suggested he was uncomfortable in the least, but she sensed it. She didn’t want to be the girl who thought because he slept with her that he had to spill everything, but she couldn’t help being curious.

“What happened to your parents?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” She downed the pain pills and accepted the spoon he offered, clearly indicating he wanted her to eat the oatmeal.

“Never met my father, don’t know what happened to my mother. I was taken from her and put in state custody.” He sat at the head of the table and angled himself in her direction. “I was put in an institute before doing a round of foster homes.” He shrugged. “It’s inevitable that I would get mixed up with kids like Maddog and others connected to the underworld. It’s what happens to most strays.”

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