Page 97 of Due Diligence

“Do you still think it’s some unbelievable miracle I’m attracted to you?”

Marcus breathed in deeply, clearly contemplating the right words to give to me. “Yes and no.”

“Why?”

“You’re very hot, Cass. I don’t know if you know that. You’re like…sex on legs.”

“Stop it,” I interjected.

He frowned. “What?”

“You know I don’t like compliments.”

“Why the hell not?” he questioned, and he seemed genuinely perplexed. “I should be complimenting you constantly. If anything, it’s borderline insulting to you if I don’t remind you every day that you’re the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen and your tits were clearly an experiment by some all-powerful creator, who wanted to test the limits of just howperfecta pair of breasts he could create.”

I glanced down at my chest and back up at Marcus. “Relax. They’re nice, but they’re notthatnice.”

“Shush. They’re incredible. And just so we’re clear, if anyone ever so much as utters a moderately pessimistic word about you or your tits, I’ll destroy them. I’m not going to absolve you from that either.”

“You’re going to destroy me?” I teased, hoping he would pick up on the double entendre.

“I’ll wreck you,” he said, sending sparks of heat through me right here in his office. “Ah, Cass.”

“What is it, Marcus?”

“We’re past the kinky fucking. I’ve made you come enough times to know your bodywell. For example, I know you like having two fingers in you, but youneedthree. I also know you go wild when I come anywhere close to your perfect little asshole, and you make this beautiful fucking sound every time my cockgoes in you—like you were dying without it. So, I’d say you owe me one. I want to be able to compliment you without it being a…thing. Can we do that? Can I just compliment you? It would make me so happy.”

It wasn’t that simple, but he didn’t know that. “Fine,” I reneged, offering him an olive branch. “You can give me one more compliment today if you tell me why you don’t believe I’m attracted to you.”

“Really? You want to cut deals?” There was intrigue in his tone, which didn’t surprise me. Marcus loved to talk business. It practically flowed through his veins.

I nodded.

He leaned back in his seat. “Three reasons why I don’t believe you. No, I take that back—just two. Number one: I’m infinitely less experienced than you are. And number two: I lost my virginity three years after I dropped out of college to found a tech company, and by that point Libra was going to go public and I was going to become a very young, very horny millionaire. So, I’m sure you can do the math there. I take anyone’s interest in me with a grain of salt.”

“I wished you wouldn’t doubt it,” I admitted, speaking honestly. “What was the third reason? The one that you decided not to share?”

“Oh.” He waved his hand. “I was going to reiterate that you’re way hotter than I am—”

“—you’re fishing for compliments at this point—”

“—but I didn’t want to waste my free compliment on that.” He smirked. “Instead, I wanted to use it to tell you that you make every day better. Seriously. Every day is better with you in it.”

“Same.”

My answer seemed to surprise him, but that was exactly what I wanted. I rose from my seat and I walked over to the window in the brick wall adjacent to us. I yanked on the cord and loweredthe blinds, blocking us from the view of passersby. When I made my way over to the other side of the table, Marcus didn’t hesitate to pull me into his lap.

I kissed him slowly, holding each of his cheeks in my hands as I began a leisurely exploration of his lips. He groaned softly when I pressed my tongue against his. After a few seconds, I pulled away and began to kiss a trail along his jaw.

I rubbed my thumb over his lips, studying his handsome face. “Marcus, does it piss you off that I’m a slut?”

I liked saying that word with him. There was something forbidden about it—something that I, as an educated and professional woman, was hardwired to hate. And I did hate it—I thought it was a vile word that had been weaponized against women who simply loved to fuck. But that word meant something else between us. It wasn’t a slur. No, it was an unspoken acknowledgement. I loved to fuck—and Marcus loved that about me. It didn’t disgust him or trouble him—he accepted it. Fully.

And sure enough, when I asked him that question he shook his head. “No, I love it,” he replied, not missing a beat. “I love that you let guys fuck you whenever they want. I get hard when I think of you taking pleasure you so fucking deserve, Cass. But when you’re with me, you’re only with me.”

I tilted my head to the side. “You think you can tell me what to do?”

“Of course not. I’m not an idiot.” Marcus reached forward and lifted a lock of my hair with the back of his finger. His motions were delicate—affectionate.Loving. “But right now, I want you thinking of me—and only me.” He kissed me again. “And on Friday when you’re with Trevor, you’re going to keep thinking of me. I know.”

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