Melanie

The kiss is a mixture of desperation and longing, an unspoken need for reassurance and connection. Marcus responds with equal intensity, his arms wrapping around me, pulling me closer. In this moment, the world outside disappears, and all that remains is the warmth and safety I find in his embrace.

The taste of Marcus's lips lingers on mine as he gently breaks the kiss. Our breaths are heavy, mingling in the air as our foreheads rest against each other. His hands remain on my waist, a comforting and possessive grip that sends shivers down my spine. We're both panting, the intensity of the moment still coursing through us.

His hands squeeze me gently as he takes a deep, calming breath. I bite my lower lip, my heartbeat echoing in my ears. Marcus' eyes are closed, and I can't help but marvel at the strength he exudes, the unwavering support he offers. It's both intimidating and comforting.

I bite my lower lip, my heart still racing from the kiss, and I watch as Marcus opens his eyes, meeting mine with an intensity that leaves me breathless. His thumb tugs at my lower lip, a gentle yet possessive gesture. I exhale sharply, feeling a surge of desire coursing through me.

He leans down, planting a gentle kiss on my forehead, his lips lingering. Then, without hesitation, Marcus pulls me into a warm hug. My head finds its place against his chest, his hand securing me. In his arms, I feel safe—protected from the chaos that surrounds us.

He said all the right things, everything I hoped to hear and more. Marcus's words were a balm to my anxious soul. Taking a deep breath, I gently push on his chest, and Marcus looks down at me. I manage a small smile. "I should freshen up a bit," I say, my voice a whisper.

"Of course," Marcus replies, his tone gentle. He leans down one more time, kissing my forehead with a softness that leaves an imprint on my soul. As he releases me, I take a step back, feeling the absence of his arms around me.

In the bathroom, I wash my face with cold water. I gaze at my reflection in the mirror, and the evidence of tears is still visible in my red and puffy eyes. But, surprisingly, I feel better. Marcus has a way of easing the storm within me, at least for now.

Yet, beneath the surface, a nagging fear lingers. I'm still afraid for Marcus's well-being, uncertain of how I'll convince him to stay away from the danger that seems to follow me. Equally troubling is the question of how I'll convince myself to stay away from him. The connection we share is undeniable, magnetic, and resisting it feels like a lost cause.

I open the bathroom door and step back into the room. Marcus's gaze immediately fixes on me, concern etched on his face. "Are you okay?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine worry.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I reply, but the truth is, I'm more than fine. I'm electrified by the magnetic pull drawing me toward him, an invisible string that refuses to be ignored.

Closing the distance between us, I place my hands on his chest. Marcus, his hands in his pockets, looks at me expectantly, a hopeful glint in his eyes. Slowly, my fingers trail up to his shoulders, snaking around his neck. Marcus reciprocates, his hands finding their place at my waist. A playful smirk dances on his lips as our gazes lock. "Thanks," I say, and Marcus, bewildered, asks, "For what?"

I shrug, a grin playing on my lips. "For being you."

He wets his lips, leaning in, and just as the moment intensifies, the doorbell rings. Marcus throws his head back in frustration, exclaiming, "Oh, you have to be fucking kidding me."

I chuckle and kiss his chest before reluctantly pulling away from our hug. Together, we walk to the living room, and I open the door to greet the movers. They begin carrying furniture inside, and Marcus joins them, lending a hand. I direct them on where to place each piece, stealing appreciative glances at Marcus. His muscles flex as he carries the furniture, and I can't help but almost drool at the sight.

The movers bring up the last box, their footsteps echoing through the room as they carry it in. As they leave, Marcus and I find ourselves alone amidst the sea of boxes and furniture. He turns to me with a genuine smile, asking, "Where do you want to start from?"

I glance around, taking in the organized chaos of my new space. After a moment of consideration, I decide, "Let's start with the bedroom. I want to at least sleep here tonight, even if everything's not in its place yet."

"Sounds good," Marcus agrees with a nod. "Let's do it."

Together, we dive into the task of assembling the bedroom furniture and arranging it to create a semblance of order in the room. There's a sense of teamwork as we navigate through the chaos, working together to transform the space into something that feels like home.

As we place the mattress on the bed frame, Marcus's eyes land on a painting above the bed. "You hung it in just the right spot," he comments, a hint of admiration in his voice.

I chuckle and correct him, "That's Evie's work. She guaranteed that the painting would be in just the right height."

Marcus whistles, impressed. "Evie's good."

"Very," I affirm with a smile.

I head to the linen closet, determined to make my bedroom as comfortable as possible. Grabbing a set of fresh sheets, I return to find Marcus surveying the bed frame. "Let's make this bed," I say, a hint of excitement in my voice. Marcus nods, ready to assist, and we set about the task of making the bed. He takes one end of the sheet while I take the other, and together we spread it out, smoothing it over the mattress.

Once the sheets are in place, I retrieve the duvet and a duvet cover from the closet. Now comes the tricky part – putting the duvet inside the cover. I hold one corner of the duvet, and Marcus takes the other, both of us attempting to align the edges with the cover. It sounds simple in theory, but in practice, it becomes a comical struggle. Marcus and I exchange amused glances, trying to align the corners and failing spectacularly.

Marcus grins, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "It's like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole."

I laugh, realizing the absurdity of our attempts. "Or more like trying to stuff a marshmallow into a straw."

Marcus and I share a laugh as we continue our amusing battle with the duvet cover. It's a playful struggle, filled with shared smiles and occasional bursts of laughter. Eventually, through trial and error, we manage to wrangle the duvet into its cover.

We share a triumphant grin, victorious in our duvet-cover conquering mission. I smooth it over the bed with a sense of accomplishment, the crinkles giving way to a perfectly made bed.

With a mischievous grin, Marcus looks at the freshly made bed. "I hope you don't plan on changing this anytime soon," he says.

I chuckle, shaking my head. "Nope, not planning on changing it ever."

We both share another laugh, and then Marcus suggests, "Do you want us to unbox your things?"

I pause, bringing a finger to my chin in thoughtful consideration. "You know," I begin, "it would be nice to have one room completely finished."

Then, I shake my head, reconsidering. "But let's finish all the furniture first, and then I'll unbox everything else."

"Fair enough," Marcus agrees. "What's next then?"

I grin, excitement building. "The living room."

We transition to the living room, and Marcus and I embark on the task of arranging furniture. The next couple of hours are a blur of movements, discussions, and the occasional laughter as we bring the room to life. When we finally stand back and survey our handiwork, a sense of satisfaction washes over us. The couch is perfectly positioned to capture the warmth of the fireplace and the view of the TV. The coffee table, strategically placed between the couch and the TV, complements the overall tone I envisioned for my apartment. I can already imagine the space adorned with decorations that reflect my personality.

Marcus breaks the momentary silence, his voice carrying genuine admiration. "You've done a great job choosing the furniture. Everything looks fantastic."

I express my gratitude with a simple "Thanks," appreciating the acknowledgment. Then, unexpectedly, Marcus takes my hand in his, sending a jolt of electricity through my body. His eyes meet mine, and he brings my hand to his lips, planting a gentle kiss. I inhale sharply, the unexpected intimacy catching me off guard. His gaze remains locked on mine, creating a moment that feels suspended in time.

"We should keep going," Marcus suggests, his voice breaking the enchantment. "Or else we'll never finish."

Returning to reality, I clear my throat and glance around, realizing there's still work to be done. "You're right. We just have to assemble the dining table. The chairs came preassembled, and so did the kitchen island chairs."

Marcus winks at me, and a sudden wave of warmth courses through me. My knees feel unexpectedly weak, and I can't help but wonder, how the fuck did I ever consider choosing Daniel over Marcus?