Eleanor’s pov

Dinner sat on the table like a trap I could not escape.

Marcus took the chair directly across from me with the picture of polite charm while my mother prattled on about wedding venues and flower arrangements and how perfect everything was going to be.

I kept my eyes on my plate and tried to breathe evenly but every time I glanced up his gray eyes were already waiting loaded with the same hunger he had shown me in the living room.

Under the table his foot slid between my legs slowly and deliberately, pressing firmly against the soft skin of my inner thigh.

I jerked once then...