Page 54 of Craving

“That’s funny. She’s told me plenty about you,” Marlon answered darkly. “It’s nice to finally put faces to the stories.”

Camilla’s eyes widened. A thrill shot through her at the way her parents’ eyes narrowed. No one spoke to them like that. Not even Camilla when she was a rebellious teenager. Not anyone.

But…it felt good to be defended like that, to have someone to step in front of her when she needed a protector.

Then her mother turned to her where she stood nestled in the crook of Marlon’s arm and said, “We’re having a family dinner tonight. You will be there, Camilla.”

“Can’t wait,” Marlon cut in, though it had been plainly obvious Georgina had tried to exclude him. His arm squeezed Camilla’s shoulders.

Dean bristled, scowling at Marlon, then grabbed his wife’s hand and went back to the car. When they’d driven off, Marlon turned to Camilla. His eyes were downcast, his expression tight. It looked like he was about to apologize. He rubbed the back of his neck and arched a brow at her, opening his mouth—

Before he could say anything, Camilla launched herself into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. Then she crushed her lips to his. Marlon caught her and kissed her back as a low groan rumbled through his throat.

“You don’t have to come tonight,” she said against his lips, then kissed him harder.

“Don’t even start,” he answered, banding an arm across her back so she was plastered to his front. Her legs were squeezing his hips. He buried his hand in her hair and tugged her head back far enough that he could meet her gaze with his own, eyes blazing bright. “I’m not letting you go there alone. As much as I like coming home to chocolate-chip cookies afterward, I don’t want you to look like you’re about to cry while you make them. Never again, sweetheart.”

She kissed him until Elton cleared his throat, then reluctantly slid down Marlon’s body. He curled his finger under her chin and brushed his lips against hers one last time before they both got back to work.

When she went back to the warmth of the bakery, Camilla couldn’t help the smile that curled her lips.

SEVENTEEN

Camilla’s parents lived in a big, stately house surrounded by a lawn and a garden that would probably be gorgeous come spring. Marlon’s stomach clenched as he turned onto the drive. His gaze caught on the yellow light spilling from the windows, shining on the expensive cars parked in front of the huge garages.

“My sister’s here,” Camilla announced, following his gaze to a silver Jaguar. Her body was tense, fingers clenched in her lap like she had to hold them tight to keep them still.

Marlon parked, then reached over and coaxed Camilla’s hand into his. He kissed her knuckles, then met her gaze. “We don’t have to go in there. Let’s grab some takeout and go home.”

Her breath caught on his last word, but she looked over at the house and took a bracing breath. “No. They clearly have something to say to me. If I avoid them, it’ll only make it worse.”

An animal instinct rose within Marlon, a long howl that called for him to take his woman and cart her home where things were safe. But Camilla didn’t need to be bound in bubble wrap and carried home. She needed quiet support while she proved to her horrible family that she was successful all on her own.

Marlon was proud of her. He ached with the need to protect her, but he wouldn’t force her to live a smaller life than she wanted. At the first whiff of trouble though, his inner caveman would come out.

They rang the doorbell and shuffled on the stoop to guard against the cold. A few moments passed before the door opened.

Camilla had prepped him with names and relations, so he knew it was her mother Georgina who opened the door. She sniffed at the sight of the two of them, then opened the door wider. “Well, come in,” she said on a long-suffering sigh, like she was doing them a favor by summoning them to her own home.

Marlon bristled.

He’d spent his entire adult life carefully guarding against close relationships. He’d never had to juggle toxic family ties—not since his mother had been alive, anyway—and he was circumspect about keeping work separate from his personal life. Only his few, old friends got past the walls he’d erected long ago.

Well, his friends and Camilla.

Now he had to navigate unfamiliar waters, where the currents were strong and the surface hid sharp rocks.

Camilla stepped over the threshold. “Hi Mom,” she said, leaning over to kiss the air next to her mother’s cheek. “Thanks for having us.”

Empty pleasantries that Marlon himself couldn’t muster. He shook Georgina’s hand, then pulled away and placed that same hand on Camilla’s lower back, as if the feel of her warmth could ease away his discomfort.

But he should be comforting her, not the other way around. It wasn’t until she leaned into him ever so slightly that he realized that was exactly what was happening. While he was drawing comfort from the feel of her warmth against his palm, she was doing the same. He’d never thought of the dual nature of his protectiveness. It soothed him while also helping Camilla.

Maybe that aspect of a personality could be a strength as well as a weakness if he allowed himself to indulge his need to care for others.

They unzipped their jackets, and Georgina looked Camilla over with a critical eye. “That bakery is doing your body no favors, Camilla. You must taste test everything you make! Look at you.”

“What did you just say?” Marlon asked, incredulous. He frowned at the older woman, then glanced at Camilla, who shook her head slightly.

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