Marked. Part II: Becoming Noah Baxter by J. M. Sevilla Page A

his head, eyes grazing my entire body before giving his attention to the man at the door. “I'll be out in a second.”
    The door clicks shut and Jay scrubs his facial scars, scrunching his eyes closed, causing his forehead to wrinkle. He grumbles words that sound like “eight fucking weeks,” but I'm not certain that's what I heard. He drops his other hand to his hip and peers down at me, “I'll be right back. Vault should have his computer on, so you can use the Internet or whatever if you get bored.”
    He admires my body again before making his way to the door. I sit up and view his broad back and lick my lips at the muscles that bulge out of his shirt.
    He pauses to speak to me, never looking back as he does, “Be prepared to tell me why the fuck you're here and not at home.”
    The door slams shut behind him. Did he seriously just have the audacity to slam a door at me?! It's been eight weeks since we've seen each other and he acts like I'm a nuisance from the moment he sees me.
    My fingers trail along my swollen lips. I smile behind them. Well, maybe not the whole time. The middle part of our reunion, I can say with certainty, I wasn't inconveniencing him; I'm pretty sure he liked that part.
    I fall back onto the couch, my smile hurting my cheeks. I was just in Jay's very alive arms. I hug myself in happiness. He has some explaining to do to, like why the hell he gave me three million dollars, but what I really hope is that we can finish what we started. Eight weeks is a long time to go without those lips.

 
     
     
    Chapter 14
     
    4:09pm
    Dear God, I'm bored. I guess telling someone you'll be right back doesn't mean the same to Jay as it does to everyone else. Then again, I can't really be all that surprised. Jay has his own way that usually contradicts the average person.
    I browsed the Internet for awhile and almost checked my email, but I wasn't sure if it could be traced. It seems silly to be paranoid about it, but Jay's already pissed at me and I don't need to add more gasoline to the fire. I drank some of Ben's whiskey from his crystal decanter and came very close to knocking on his office door, but he has that office for a reason and one of them might be for privacy.
    I spent a fair amount of time watching the wall of security screens. I had pulled up Vault's desk chair that felt like I had my own personal ass cloud. I keep wondering if I can get away with stealing it. I watched the screens show the happenings of the building from the main lobby, the offices on various floors, and this level. It wasn't as exciting as I thought it was going to be, just people going about their banking business. Vault's level is oddly very boring. The waiting area that houses his two assistants has had zero action, and the two girls hardly glance away from their computer monitors, busy at work. I don't look at the screen that displays this room; it's too weird seeing myself sitting alone in this big room.
    I want to check the two doors on the left wall to see if one of them is a bathroom, but I'm afraid I'll get caught and they'll think I'm snooping.
    I decide to go out the main door and see if one of Ben's assistants can tell me. I poke my head out the door, so I can technically say I never left.
    Wait a second. I'm not a child. Jay can't scold me for stepping outside to ask about a bathroom.
    Well, okay, he can , and he probably will , but I'm an adult (something I continually feel the need to remind myself).
    I slide my foot hesitantly out the door, testing the water before I decide if I want to dive right into the pool.
    I'm being ridiculous, just step all the way out.
    As I do I can't help but feel like a teenager sneaking out of her bedroom window.
    The girl who's desk is on the right side of me is concentrating on entering information from the paper next to her, unaware that I've entered. The other desk is vacant.
    I clear my throat. “Uh, hi,” I lamely mumble. I hate how this whole situation makes me feel like a