Page 4 of Made For Ruin

I start to turn away, but my wet shoes choose that exact moment to betray me.

My foot slips on the slick linoleum and I feel myself pitching forward. I let out a yelp and brace myself for impact with the unforgiving floor.

But the impact never comes. Instead, I feel a strong arm wrap around my waist, halting my fall.

“Careful,” Marcus rumbles as he pulls me upright and against his solid chest. “Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

I swallow hard, suddenly very aware of every place our bodies are touching. The heat of his skin seeps through the damp fabric of my uniform, warming me in ways that have nothing to do with the temperature of the diner.

“Thanks,” I manage to say, my voice coming out breathier than I intend. “Guess I should have changed after my little accident in the kitchen.”

He frowns as he takes in my soaked uniform. “What happened?”

“Oh, you know. Just a little battle with the industrial fridge. Fridge won this round.” I try to laugh it off, but it comes out sounding forced and awkward.

Marcus doesn’t laugh.

Instead, his frown deepens. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” I assure him, suddenly very aware of the fact that his arm is still wrapped around my waist. “Just a little wet.”

Instantly, I feel my cheeks burn at my unintended innuendo.

“I mean, notthatkind of wet, obviously,” I stammer, trying to backtrack. “You know, just like regular wet.”

Something flares in Marcus’s gaze at my words.

His eyes darken and his grip on my waist tightens imperceptibly before he seems to catch himself. Then he clears his throat and loosens his hold, allowing me to step back.

“Right,” he says gruffly. “I should let you get back to work.”

“Yeah. Work. I should...do that.” I bob my head in a jerky nod, my face on fire. “Um, enjoy your coffee.”

I don’t wait for his response. I turn on my heel and make a beeline for the kitchen, moving as fast as my damp shoes will allow. Mortification burns through me as I push through the swinging door and into the blessed solitude of the back room.

Oh my gosh.

I can’t believe I just said that. To Axel’s fuckingdad. A man who is off-limits in every possible way.

What the heck iswrongwith me?

I groan and thunk my forehead against the cool metal of the industrial fridge, wishing the appliance would just swallow me whole.

TWO

MARCUS

I watchas Lainey disappears behind the door toward the back of the kitchen. And like the sick bastard I am, I can’t stop thinking about how easily I could have pulled her closer instead of letting her go.

Fuck.

I scrub a hand across my beard and stare out the window, watching the morning traffic crawl past.

I’ve been obsessed with Lainey Daniels from the moment I first laid eyes on her five years ago.

I was fresh out of the Marines, sitting in this booth drinking black coffee, when she walked out of the kitchen carrying a tray of apple pie.

She was like a fantasy come to life. Honey-blonde waves tumbled past her shoulders. The sweetest face I’d ever seen. Lush tits. A tiny waist. Thick thighs. And generous curves that made my hands itch to grab her hips and pull her close.

---