Page 34 of Craving

A moment later, a middle-aged man came out. His hair was thinning, combed back in thick streaks over the crown of his head. He had remarkably hairy forearms and a big paunch hanging over his belt buckle. He looked like a retired bruiser. Marlon disliked him on sight. “You from Elite Security?”

“We are. I’m Marlon St. James.” He stuck out his hand. “I have a couple of questions to go through with you, then we can get the system installed and get out of your hair.” However much of it there was.

“Frankie,” the man said, giving Marlon’s hand a strong pump. “Follow me.”

They passed through the door and into the back room. Wire shelves lined the concrete walls until the room opened onto a larger office space lit with fluorescent lighting, which only made the place look dingier. Marlon’s skin crawled.

“Our old system is nearly ten years old,” Frankie explained as he pointed to the cameras in the corners of the room.

“You mentioned you want a like-for-like replacement?” Marlon asked.

“Yeah.” Frankie sat down in his desk chair and let it roll back slightly. “We have a blind spot in the back hallway, so I want to add a camera there, but other than that, the setup is pretty good.”

“I have a couple of recommendations that might improve your coverage,” Marlon said, pulling out his paperwork. He launched into his pitch, but the prickling on the back of his neck never went away.

One day, hopefully, Elite Security would be profitable enough that they could refuse to work with certain clients. But Smith hadn’t done anything outright shady, other than housing his business in a dingy strip mall. Marlon shook off his discomfort and focused on the job at hand.

Installing and maintaining security systems was the most profitable arm of their business. It didn’t require expensive labor costs and it didn’t demand overtime. There were occasionally maintenance callouts to attend, but the risks were far, far lower than the bodyguard or security guard jobs they took on. Plus, a town like Stirling and the surrounding area just didn’t have much demand for personal security. The tech side of the business brought in too much money to be picky right now.

Frankie Smith's fit-out was a good job to take. Logically, Marlon knew it. But he couldn’t shake the prickling at the base of his skull as he got to work.

When he got home that evening, he pulled into the driveway and let out a long breath. Camilla’s car was in the drive. He didn’t know why that filled him with intense relief, but it did. The thought of walking into a warm house filled with the scent of Camilla’s cooking—and the scent of her—made him shed all the discomfort of the day within moments.

He’d always thought that coming home to an empty house was what he preferred. He thought leaving business behind was a relief because it meant he wouldn’t have to take care of anyone until he was at work again, but now he was starting to think he’d had it wrong. Coming home to a warm, bright home knowing a beautiful woman would greet him with a smile was even better.

And when he walked through the door and smelled the odor of fresh paint on the walls of the living room, his dick got hard. He closed his eyes for a beat, trying to push away the images that had branded themselves in his mind over the weekend.

Camilla, her top off, bra shoved down to her waist, looking at him with heavy-lidded eyes. The feel of her skin beneath his palms. The way she looked on the stepladder when she stretched to reach the top corner of the walls, her curves so enticing they made him itch to touch her.

He shook his head. She’d made it clear that she didn’t want that, and Marlon agreed with her. Everything she’d told him about her past made him feel like an asshole for ever touching her.

Plus, he didn’t want to complicate his life either. Keeping things platonic was the best strategy; otherwise, both their lives would get too messy for comfort.

He liked being on his own. This was a temporary situation, and he was just helping her out. Temporarily. Just the way he wanted it.

Maybe if he kept repeating it to himself, he’d start to believe it.

“Hi,” Camilla said from the top of the stairs. She wore jeans and a thick, cable-knit cream sweater. It had a big turtleneck that reached all the way up to her jaw, and the sleeves pooled near her wrists before being gathered at the cuffs. Her body was as covered as she possibly could be without wearing a full balaclava, and it only made Marlon want to undress her all the more. She was like a gift wrapped up just for him.

“How was your day?” he asked.

Camilla huffed as she descended the stairs. She was a tall woman, so even when she stood on the ground floor in front of him, the top of her head reached higher than his chin. When she shook her head, the scent of her shampoo teased him. “My day was a disaster.”

“What happened?”

Camilla’s jeans fit her perfectly, a fact that Marlon noticed when she walked to the kitchen in front of him. He averted his eyes, mentally slapping himself. They were platonic roommates. He’d just have to pretend he hadn’t seen her bare breasts two days ago, and that they hadn’t opened up to each other about things in their pasts that didn’t typically get brought out into the light of day.

“One of the ovens had a fault and stopped working this morning,” she told him. “I had to get a technician to come fix it, and they charged me an arm and a leg for the call-out fee. They got it working, but I only had about half as much inventory as usual to sell today, and I had to delay one of the wedding cake tastings I had scheduled for tomorrow. It’s going to cost me a fortune that I absolutely cannot afford right now.”

They’d reached the kitchen, and Camilla opened the fridge to look inside. Her features were drawn, and Marlon had the sense that she didn’t want to meet his gaze. Before he could stop himself, he reached over and put his arm around her waist. She startled but didn’t push him away when he pulled her nearer.

He wrapped both arms around her and held her close.

When was the last time Marlon had hugged anyone, just because? He couldn’t remember. Wrapping his arms around Camilla felt like coming home. His hands sank into the soft wool of her sweater, and her hair tickled his nose as he ducked his head toward her. After a beat, she let out a sigh and melted into him.

His heart gave a lurch, and he squeezed her tighter. Her fingers curled into the back of his shirt as her breath washed over his throat, and Marlon felt something in his heart click into place.

This was better than coming home to an empty house, even if an empty house was simpler. Her body was soft and warm, and she held him like his hug would solve all her problems.

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