"Can I go back to my hotel now, my feet hurt." I whine.
We've been walking around some museum for hours now, and I can feel my feet throbbing, and my stomach rumbling, too.
I need food and rest.
Mr. Toughguy groans irritably, "Why did I even offer to show you around? All you do is complain." He turns to me and glares.
"You're the one that forced me to come along!" I defend.
"Whatever." He grumbles, knowing I was right and he can't say crap on the subject.
"Can we go get food nowww? I missed breakfast." I begin my whining again.
"Too bad." He snaps.
"Why're you so cranky?" I ask distastfully.
"Why're you so annoying?" He retorts
"Because I can be." I continue.
Don't get me wrong, the museum is beautiful and all, I just think food would be more beautiful right now. And a chair.
I've already tried walking out of there more than once, but he stopped me every time.
"If I'm so annoying, then why won't you let me leave?" I ask when he doesn't reply to my earlier statement.
He stays silent, still walking forward.
I sigh, feeling defeated as I stop abruptly, refusing to go another inch forward. Time to rebel.
Mr. Toughguy stops when he notices I'm not moving, and a look of impatience crosses his face.
"Come on." He snaps.
"No." I lift my face childishly.
"Yes." He argues.
"Nuh-uh."
"Move. Now." He demands again, that time more threateningly.
"Nope."
"Keep walking, or I'll carry you." He warns.
I snort, "Doubt you could even if you tried."
He narrows his eyes, "Don't push me."
"I already have, what're you gonna do about it, Mr. Toughguy?" I challenge.
A look of determination plants itself on his face as he takes a step towards me. I actually feel scared that he might really try to carry me.
Oh no.
No no no no. Please don't. Don't even try.
"Are you serious?" I back up fearfully.
"Dead serious." He replies.
"No, please don't." I respond desperately.
I feel the embarrassment already creeping up my face, which is really something. I don't know if I'm blushing, but if I were to have red cheeks, I'd probably laugh if I saw myself. It's been a while since I've blushed, and I don't miss it one bit.
"Too late." He mutters as he effortlessly picks me up and carries me in his arms.
I gape in horror, then confusion, then awe.
How?
How is he still holding me?
Why hasn't he dropped me?
This is a weird feeling. I've never been carried before, maybe when I was a baby, but still. It's a rather nice feeling. Not bad. Not bad at all. Aside from the fear that he might not be able to handle my weight and drop me.
![](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/179012634-288-k712056.jpg)
YOU ARE READING
Loving Marcello
RomanceAfter having her heart broken by the boy she'd been in love with her whole life, Brimmy Somell decides to take a little...vacation. Little does she know, it turns out to be much more permanent than she had originally thought. After meeting tall, sex...