The taxi ride back to Marcus' house turned quiet and tense. Despite him holding my hand, gently rubbing his thumb over the back of it, I could do nothing but stare out of the window. I kept replaying our last conversation repeatedly in my mind. Everything about this man seemed perfect...too perfect. He definitely appeared too good to be true. Everyone had a vice. Maybe his vice happened to be drink driving. If that were the case, could I pursue this relationship?

I squeezed my eyes shut. Deep down I knew the answer without a doubt—no. When the taxi finally came to a stop, I pulled myself out of my negative musings. We'd come to a stop in front of a huge country mansion.

As Marcus paid the driver and stepped out of the car, I could do nothing but stare up at the grand white three storey house. When a cool draft breezed over me, I realised Marcus had opened my door. I turned my head to see him stood with his hand out, waiting for me to get out.

"This is your house?" I said, placing my hand in his and letting him take my weight as I stood up.

He grinned. "No. I just like to pretend it is by getting random strangers to bring me here and pay them for the privilege."

"Not funny," I said, giggling. "This is absolutely gorgeous."

Marcus closed the door on the taxi and slid his arm around my waist. "Welcome to my humble abode."

"Humble? This is like something the National Trust should own."

He laughed. "It's belonged to my family for five centuries."

I gazed around me in awe. A carriage drive with sandy coloured gravel encircled a white stone fountain, complete with a black iron ornate water feature in the middle. The grass had been perfectly edged to the gravel, not a blade out of place. When I looked to the left of the house I saw a stunning view of the sea that took my breath away. I'd never seen anything so picturesque.

"Where are we?"

Despite staring out of the window all the way here, I hadn't really paid attention to where we were headed. Several dozen trees created a barrier on the neatly cut grass, obscuring any view in the direction of civilisation.

"We're in between Saltwick Bay and Hawsker-cum-Stainsacre. Nothing but green fields that way—" he pointed to the right "—and sea views that way," he said, pointing to the left.

"It's incredible. I'm totally in love."

I closed my eyes and sucked in a deep breath of salty fresh air, letting the cleanliness wash through my veins.

"Are you ready for the grand tour?" Marcus asked, squeezing my waist.

I opened my eyes and took a final glance around. As beautiful as this was, something felt off, missing. It seemed staged, almost too perfect. I smirked at the irony. Too perfect house, too perfect guy. Still, I kept my thoughts to myself as he led me towards the black wooden front door.

When he opened the door, I don't know what I expected, but I certainly didn't expect such simplistic luxury. Black and white marble flooring covered the entrance hall, it sparkled yet still somehow held an aged tone to it that fit with the old style of the house.

The walls were a beautiful deeply polished mahogany, a couple of oil paintings hung up with softly lit spotlights hanging over them. An archway to the right led through to what I presumed were rooms. Against the left-hand wall, the staircase curled gently round back on itself as it wound upwards.

To the left sat a beautiful dining room, no doors, just a matching archway to the other side of the entrance hall. A long glass table complete with black leather high backed chairs stole the middle of the room.

"I don't know what to say. It's gorgeous."

"Most people say they expected the house to be kept in time with its age," Marcus replied, chuckling. "But my father has always liked keeping with the times and loves the whole modern look."

"He's got great taste."

Marcus laughed. "He hired an interior designer. This is what his money produced, not his own thoughts."

He took me around the house, showing me the reception room, living room, games room complete with a full-size pool table, and even an impressive and extensive library.

When he led me back into the entrance hall, I realised we were then going upstairs. My heart started pounding and my mind started racing with endless thoughts of what could happen. When we reached the top of the stairs, I became strangely disorientated.

The landing split left and right but then also split backwards as well, joining back up behind us. A large window in front of me gave a view of the drive, orientating me to the front of the house. The soft cream carpet massaged my bare feet. I wanted to lay on it and fall asleep.

As I turned around, a huge oil painting stole my attention. It hung on the back wall, three spotlights positioned above it casting dull yellow tones onto the aged picture.

"Oh my," I breathed. "That's extraordinary."

A family of four stood together, the mother and the father sat down, their gold chairs turned slightly towards each other. Stood behind them were a young man and a young woman. The young man had a hand on his father's shoulder, and the young woman a hand on her mother's shoulder. The beautiful corset dresses immediately screamed Victorian to me, but I could have been wrong.

Long red curls tumbled either side of the mother's face, her hair pinned into a fancy up-do. Her daughter, her hair also red but lighter, blonder, had her hair braided one side. The father had a moustache that reminded me of Poirot and the son held a regal stance that sent a shiver down my spine.

"My ancestors," Marcus said. "My father's grandfather is the older gentleman."

"That's so cool. You're looking at your grandfather when he was just a young man. How old would he have been there?"

Marcus cleared his throat. "Around eighteen."

I couldn't help but stare at his grandfather. His eyes were just like Marcus'. "You have your grandfather's eyes."

He smiled but said nothing, instead gently tugging my hand to lead me to the right. I presumed for some reason we were going to turn right again and head along the landing towards the painting, but we didn't. He led me on past the mini T junction down a corridor with a door at the end. I counted thirty steps before we reached it.

Hanging on the walls either side of me were more oil paintings of fields, birds, dogs, horses, and even scenic views of lakes and mountains, each with their own spotlight of course.

"This is my sister's room. If you need clothes or anything, she has an entire room full of them."

He opened the door to reveal a king size bed pushed up under the window to the left, then the rest of the room filled with clothes, like a walk-in wardrobe. Tops, trousers, jeans, dresses, ballgowns, shelves of shoes, handbags hanging from pegs, scarves. I didn't need clothes shopping with Hannah—this was the shop.

"She sleeps in her wardrobe?"

He laughed. "That's Emaleia."

"That's a pretty name—Emma-Leia," I repeated, sounding it out.

"Don't ever call her Em, Emma, Ems or anything of the sort. She hates it. It's full pronunciation or you suffer her wrath."

I giggled. "I went to school with a girl called Kimberley. She would get so angry when people shortened it."

He closed the door and then proceeded to tell me the room at the far end of the other corridor belonged to his parents. For obvious reasons we weren't going to go in there. Taking us back to the little junction, he then turned us down the landing that led towards the painting. I couldn't stop staring at his grandfather. He was striking, Marcus had inherited a lot of genes from his father's side for sure.

As we reached the back wall, a door sat at the end, on the left, and one matched it across the other side. A landing between the two doors led right underneath the painting and I wondered how small I would feel in comparison to the painting if I stood under it.

"I wonder how long it took the artist to paint that," I said, still staring at it. "It's ginormous."

"About seventy hours." He then said quickly, "That's what grandad said anyway." He placed a hand on the door to the left and said, "This is the guest room. It's not very big. Emaleia knocked into it when she ran out of space in her wardrobe."

I laughed. "Makes sense."

"My room is over there," he said, pointing at the door on the other side.

As he led me across the landing underneath the painting, I couldn't help but gaze up at it in awe. The intricate detailing on the gold picture frame had me as mesmerised as the painting itself.

"You're really quite taken with that, aren't you?" he said, a smirk tweaking up at his lips.

I nodded and stopped. Craning my neck backwards, I couldn't see the full picture like I could on the other side of the landing, but his grandfather's startling blue eyes stood out like cats eyes in the dead of night.

"That also looks like it should belong to the National Trust," I said.

He laughed. "Not sure they'd be interested in my family tree."

I finally tore myself away from the painting and let him lead me into his room. I expected modern and minimalistic, but I found myself stepping into something comfortable, and, in comparison to the rest of the house, old.

A four-poster bed stole the middle of the room. A dusky red paint decorated the walls halfway down, then polished mahogany for the lower half. In the far-right corner, a door led somewhere, and to my left, glass double doors opened out onto a balcony.

"En-suite," Marcus said, nodding towards the door in the corner.

"Very posh," I replied, giggling.

He kissed the back of my hand and then walked over to a record player nestled against the back wall. A couple of seconds later, classical music quietly filled the air, smooth, relaxing, and subtle tones immediately relaxed my nervousness.

As he walked back to me, he held his hand out and gave me a warm smile. "Come with me."

I took his hand, my heart jumping as our skin touched. He opened the glass double doors, letting the cool night breeze in. The delicate white lace drapes he had in front of them rippled like they were alive.

He led me out onto the balcony which was nothing like I expected. It stretched the whole length of the back of the house and had enough width to almost be another room if it had a roof. At each end of the balcony, a cute black round table and four chairs provided seating. Three black outdoor heat lamps were next to the tables, with one in the middle of the balcony too.

"You can access it from the guest room too," he said. "Not that anyone has ever stayed in there since we had this installed."

He took me to the middle of the balcony and switched on the heater. It lit up slowly, adding an orange-reddish glow to the darkness.

"This is my favourite place in the whole world," he said, letting out a sigh. He opened his arm and moved it outwards.

I'd been so preoccupied with this whole house, soaking in the details of his room and this gorgeous balcony, I'd completely missed the stunning sea view stretching for miles. The cliff edge couldn't have been much more than twenty metres from the house. The gentle splash of the water against the rocks below combined with the classical music streaming from his room seemed to spiral me into a different dimension.

"I'm speechless," I said, leaning against the balcony. "I could stay up here forever."

"Me too," he whispered, slipping an arm around my waist. "Especially if you're here."

My insides somersaulted with giddiness. I knew it was a line, a cheesy one, but that didn't stop me from reacting to it. This entire scenario felt like something from a romantic movie and as much as I knew that, I loved every moment and wanted more.

I turned my head and glanced up at him over my left shoulder. He gazed down at me, his eyes glittering gems of warmth and care. He moved his hand up my back, gliding his fingers across my dress in such a way, it sent shivers down my spine. When he reached my head, he carefully brushed my hair back from my face, pushing it over my shoulder.

"Would it be ok if I kissed you?" he whispered, running his fingers slowly through my hair.

My heart skipped a beat as he said 'kissed' and my mind started spinning. I'd had kisses before, I wasn't that innocent, but something about him made this seem like a big deal, like I may as well have had no kisses before now.

I nodded. "That would be lovely."

That would be lovely? What the hell was wrong with me? I wanted to cringe and hide in embarrassment from my own stupid remark. Jeeze, Hannah would be screaming at me right now if she could see this.

For whatever random reason, I suddenly remembered I hadn't sent her the pictures of me and Marcus yet. Why had I suddenly thought of that as this hunk of a man leaned in to kiss me? I forced thoughts of my best friend to the back of my mind and focused on the moment.

He moved his hand to my cheek, his thumb moving ever so slightly in a gentle rub. My heart no longer had a rhythm, just a blurred beat of excitement and nerves. I closed my eyes and waited for his kiss.

His lips finally touched mine and I found myself swept away with everything—the stunning scenery, the amazing house, the romantic music, and this handsome man making me feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

His kiss had a feather light touch, almost as if the wind had touched me and not him. I gasped and opened my eyes to see him looking at me, his blue eyes shining like the stars above.

"Don't be so nervous, sweet, sweet, Caitlyn," he whispered. "Just relax and enjoy yourself. Don't think too much."

My cheeks started to burn with heat. Was I just making him think I was a pathetic virgin who didn't know anything about romance? In all fairness, my limited experience of the male species would make that statement not far from the truth.

"Ok," I replied.

All I could think then was don't think too much over and over as he gave me another kiss, this time firmer, letting me know that it definitely wasn't the wind.

With my right hand, I reached for him, needing more than the balcony railings to steady myself. I grabbed hold of his arm, holding onto him for dear life as he opened his mouth and deepened our connection. He moved that arm, curling it around my waist and turning me into his body. I reached further up and rested my hand against the back of his neck.

He pressed me against his body, letting me feel his solid warmth. Electric tingles surged around me like crazy, sending intense heat straight between my legs. My mind ran wild with wishes of what I wanted to happen.

As if he read my thoughts, Marcus ended our kiss, pulling his mouth from mine. I had half a mind to protest when suddenly, his silky lips were on my neck, caressing my skin with such gentle brushes of his mouth, I couldn't help the moan that escaped my lips.

I leaned my head back, grasping hold of his shirt with my free hand, and immersed myself in this divine sensation flooding my body. He stilled momentarily, making me open my eyes in a hazy fog of delirium.

"Everything ok?" I asked.

His attention pinpointed on something behind me, he flickered back to life at my words and smiled down at me. "Of course. Are you comfortable with moving this inside?"

My throat ran dry, nerves suddenly wrecking me again. I nodded.

With a final glance to whatever caught his attention, he took my hand and led me back to his room. I looked around quickly, trying to see what he'd seen but I saw nothing.

He closed the glass doors and locked them before pulling the thin drapes over them. "You have all the power here," he said, motioning towards the bed. "Whatever you say goes."

All the romance from the balcony and the sea views had gone. This here, in his room, became something else entirely. The bed, the soft music, the lust in his eyes, it all suddenly seemed awfully real and rather scary.

"I...I don't know..."

Nothing about this now seemed to be about going with the flow, it seemed clinical and about stating the obvious.

"That's ok," he said. "We can just go to sleep if you like."

My heart dropped. I didn't want that. I wanted his lips on me again, to feel the rush of euphoria driving through my body as he treated me to things I'd never yet experienced.

I shook my head.

"Lead the way, my lady. Tell me what you want."

I wanted to say it so badly, but something kept stopping me. To think something and then to say it were two entirely different things. If I said it out loud, I knew I'd sound stupid, like the inexperienced virgin I really was.

"Don't be shy," he said, gently rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb.

I looked away, embarrassment and panic now colliding together.

"Would you like me to kiss you?" he asked, leaning in close.

I nodded, peeking up at him from beneath my lashes.

"Where?" he whispered. He took his index finger and ran it ever so lightly over my lips. "Here?" He then slid it across my face and down my neck, covering me in goose bumps. "Or here?"

Our eyes still connected, I nodded, silently begging him to put his lips on me, right there, on my neck. I want your lips on my skin repeated over and over in my head, but I couldn't force the words out, they were stuck in my throat.

Before I knew it, he'd scooped me up in his arms and laid me down on the bed. "Close your eyes."

I did as he said and shut my eyes, concentrating on the touches of bliss he blessed upon my skin. One arm draped over my stomach as he nestled into my side, kissing every millimetre of my neck. As he moved towards the middle of my throat, I turned my head, nuzzling into his chest to give him access to the other side of my neck.

Burning with heat, I became almost irrational as I focused on the fact he'd put his hand on me but made no move to touch me anywhere else. I wrestled with myself as I fought the urge to tell him to give me skin to skin contact with his hand.

When he lifted his mouth from my neck, my body was covered in a soft sheen of sweat. He really brought the literal meaning of making a girl hot and bothered.

Without putting any thought into it, just going with the flow, I said, "Take my dress off."

I didn't open my eyes because I knew if I did, I'd meet a questioning curiosity. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before gently pulling it up my legs. As he exposed my black lace thong, I felt a sense of sexiness wash over me, like I might finally be seen as a woman, not a girl.

He continued lifting my dress, exposing my stomach, then my matching black lacy bra. I felt confident and powerful, like I knew I had his attention now, no matter what. I dared to open my eyes to find his eyes blazing with a primal hunger that didn't scare me, it actually made me want to add more fuel to his fire.

I lifted my head so he could remove my dress completely. Our eyes were locked onto each other, bonding us into an unspoken realm we had yet to explore.

Moving my hand to his, I whispered, "Touch me."

His eyes instantly lit up, more fire radiating through them. Obeying my wish, he started to skim across my skin with his fingertips. His touch fell nothing short of heavenly. I had nothing on this world to compare it to.

The longer we were skin to skin, the more I wanted. I wanted it more intense, harder, firmer, I wanted to feel him against me properly, not dancing his fingers over me as if I were a delicate china doll.

He ran his fingers down the outside of my legs, then back up the inside. I groaned and squirmed as tiny explosions sent me insane with desire. He continued upwards, gliding over my stomach, and then into my cleavage. I shivered violently, relishing the moment.

Sliding his hand over my chest, he gently grazed his fingers over my left breast. Through the black lace, it caught my nipple in such a way it sent a powerful buzz of fiery tingles straight between my legs. I gasped and flinched, jumping away from his touch.

"Are you ok?" he asked, in a very low, quiet voice.

I nodded, my cheeks flushing red. "I...sorry. I wasn't expecting that."

"It's fine, you have no need to apologise. Would you like to stop now?"

Suddenly feeling a little bashful, I nodded and felt a strong urge to cover myself up.

Marcus rose from the bed and walked over to his set of drawers. He pulled out a light blue shirt and handed it to me. "It's cotton so you won't get too hot."

I threw it over my head and instantly relaxed. A wave of guilt started to rise inside me as I realised I'd just teased this poor guy into thinking something more may happen.

He walked over to the empty side of the bed and pulled back the quilt. "Time for sleeping beauty to get some sleep," he said, patting the mattress.

I scrambled over and slid under the fluffy duvet, revelling in the feel of silk sheets against my skin. This I could definitely get used to. I watched him walk around the bed to his side and waited for him to take his clothes off. However, it didn't happen.

"I think you've dealt with enough for one night," he said, laying down on top of the quilt. "I don't want to give you a heart attack by letting you see my poster worthy body."

I laughed. "Thank you for your concern for my health."

He smirked and held his arm out, inviting me into him for a cuddle. With a smile on my lips and warm strong arms around me, I snuggled into his chest, inhaling his familiar scent, and closed my eyes.