Surprise

The doorway frames her completely, the softbox light spilling from Marcus's room behind her and tracing the curve of her shoulders, the dip of her waist, the long line of her bare legs. She doesn't raise her arms to cover herself. She doesn't tuck a knee in front of the other. She stands with her weight shifted onto one hip, her hands loose at her sides, her chin tilted up just enough to meet his gaze through the dim of the living room.

Marcus doesn't move from where he stands by the couch. His phone hangs forgotten in one hand, the screen gone dark. The faint glow of the television flickers across his chest, catching the hard line of his jaw, the stillness of his posture. He doesn't speak. He just smiles, slow and unhurried, the corners of his mouth curving as his eyes travel down her body and back up again.

Her heart hammers against her ribs. She can feel the cool air of the living room against her bare skin, the faint draft from the hallway raising goosebumps along her arms. She lets her hands lift from her sides, trailing them up her thighs slowly, deliberately, drawing his gaze to the places her fingers pass before she lets them fall back to her hips.

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