The Spark (Carolina Connections Book 2)

by Sylvie Stewart

  He was sheer perfection—black dress slacks, pressed moss green button-down with just the right number of buttons undone, clean-shaven face, and a look weighted in … something, directed firmly at me.

  My mouth forgot how to produce saliva and my forehead suddenly felt damp, as did pretty much my entire body. I opened my mouth but had no words, and he was all the way across the room anyway, so it wasn’t as if he could hear me. A very unfamiliar sensation swept over me, and in that moment I recognized I had real feelings for this man. Feelings that had little to do with my schemes to get him into bed or my admiration of his hot bod. These feelings made me want to keep him for myself—damn the consequences.

  My face must have been an open book because Mark’s eyes swept over every inch of it and then he visibly exhaled and dipped his head, shoving his hands in his pockets. He seemed…relieved.

  Wishing simultaneously that I could run away or I could pull him off to another room and figure this crazy thing out, I chose neither and focused on hostess and cooking duties instead. I withdrew to the kitchen, excusing myself from my conversation and ensuring a small bit of privacy for the panic attack I would be experiencing momentarily.

  I gripped the counter, still feeling confused and hot. I didn’t understand this emotion that rushed through me at the sight and thought of Mark. I took a few calming breaths and then let it settle in.

  Maybe this was kind of how a dog feels when presented with her first doggie sweater. It’s strange and foreign and a bit intimidating at first, and she thinks, no, not for me, I’m good. Then once it’s on and she wears it around for a while she starts to feel the warm cuddliness of it, not to mention the awesome zebra print—just deal with it because even if it’s imaginary, no dog of mine is going to dress in anything less than designer wear.

  I took stock of my emotions and general state of mind when I was with Mark or when I thought of him, which I couldn’t seem to stop doing lately. Yeah, it definitely felt like I was wrapped up in something warm and soft. It was a damn nice sweater and it felt really freaking comfy. I was thinking this sweater might be for me after all.

  So, I guess I was the dog and my feelings were the sweater? Or Mark was the sweater and I was still the dog? Wait, that’s not a very flattering analogy. Whatever. This was too confusing.

  I vowed to put the thoughts aside for the moment and directed my attention to the soup simmering away in a large pot. Time to get down to business and ignore the giant elephant in the room—the one that may have been wearing a zebra-print sweater.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Me and My Big Fat Fucking Mouth

  MARK

  I stood next to Jake as he gave me shit about the ridiculous photos that someone, ahem, had decided to blow up in a clear effort to add just the right tone of humiliation to the evening. One point to the ladies. Well done.

  I took my lumps and didn’t even attempt to dish any back. I was too distracted by the thought of Fiona and that look she’d given me when I’d walked in tonight. There was no way I had misread it. She may have tried to hide it, but it was right there on her face before she fled to the kitchen.

  She was falling for me.

  Thank fuck.

  No, seriously, this bullshit plan of mine to withhold sex until I was sure she was in just as deep as I was (Christ, even my choice of words was sexually driven)? Worst plan ever. My balls were so blue it was a wonder I could still walk.

  Now that I had some confirmation of Fiona’s feelings, it was on. This party couldn’t be over fast enough. Shortcake had better watch out because I was coming for her. (Goddammit, I did it again—I really needed to get laid.)

  I decided to give her a little space since it wasn’t as if I could have my dirty way with her on Laney’s kitchen counter. And besides, she was full-on deer-in-headlights, so it was only fair to give her a minute. Not to mention, the smells coming from the kitchen were nothing short of fan-fucking-tastic, so I wasn’t about to mess that up either.

  A strong hand gripped my shoulder and turned me around.

  “Did you hear the good news?” Nate asked, a huge-ass grin on his face.

  “What news? I just got here.”

  Laney popped up between us and shoved her hand in my face. For a second, I thought she was going to back-hand me—I’m sure I deserved it for something—but then I noticed the diamond that was about to jab a hole in my eye. Holy shit, he’d actually pulled it off!

  “No shit?” I looked to Nate.

  “No shit,” he replied, still grinning like an idiot.

  I wrapped Laney up in a hug. “You know, darlin’, you could do better but I’m happy for you anyway.”

  She pulled back and punched my arm, but her grin was just as big as Nate’s. “Thanks, I think.”

  I held out my hand to shake Nate’s. “So you worked up the balls to do it, huh? Congrats, man.” And I found I was genuinely happy and excited for them. Look at me being all mature.

  “Thanks,” he replied and then looked around. “Where’s Bay? I thought you were picking her up on your way.”

  “She couldn’t make it after all, but you should definitely call her with the good news—I know she’ll be upset she missed it.”

  My plan had indeed been to pick Bailey up on my way, but when I’d gotten to her place I could tell something was up. If I didn’t know better, I’d have sworn she’d been crying.

  “Can you just make something up?” she’d asked when she’d opened her door and poked her head out.

  “Like what? Why don’t you want to go all of a sudden?”

  “What’s the big deal? I’ve never even met your brother,” she’d countered, suddenly defensive.

  I’d reluctantly agreed to drop it, knowing I was already running late, but I was still determined to get to the bottom of this. Just not right now. No, I had some awesome food to eat, some hands to shake, and my girl to take home. Not bad for a Saturday night.

  “Have you ever thought about being a chef?” I asked a few hours later when we were on our way to my place. I was making my intentions crystal clear by not even asking if my place was okay. Fiona would have to speak up on her own if she wanted to call it a night. She’d willingly left her car at Laney’s so I wasn’t expecting any surprises.

  “No way,” Fiona said, shaking her head emphatically.

  “Shortcake, everything you’ve cooked has tasted incredible. You’d kill it as a chef.” I was genuinely puzzled at the vehemence of her dismissal. “What was that soup again?”

  She smiled in my direction. “Zucchini with crème fraîche and cilantro.”

  “See! I don’t even like zucchini and I had seconds—that’s how good your food is. And don’t even get me started on the chicken.” I grabbed her hand and held it on my thigh.

  She continued to grin at me. “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it, and I really do love to cook. But I would never make it as a chef.”

  “Why the hell not?” I was feeling defensive on her behalf and I got that feeling again that there was something I was missing. Somebody had made her see herself negatively. I was hoping I wasn’t going to have to kick anybody’s ass.

  She sighed. “Well, first of all, I don’t have a degree. Second, being a chef takes lots of smarts and the ability to remain calm under pressure. Does that sound like me?”

  I thought about it for a moment. Had she asked me that question a month ago, I probably would have laughed, but now I had seen first-hand how good she was at maneuvering her way through tough situations. And she was so far from the dumb blonde I’d pegged her as in the beginning. “I think you’re selling yourself short.”

  “I believe that detail is pretty obvious, big man.” She laughed at my unintentional joke.

  “Let me ask you this. Do you like the job you have now as much as you like cooking?”

  She squeezed my hand. “It’s a lot more complicated than that, Mark. Trust me.”

  I could tell the subject was closed for the night but I wasn’t going t
o give up. My girl deserved to be happy in every way, and damn anybody and anything that stood in the way.

  “So, now that you have me here, what are you going to do with me?” Fiona sat perched on my couch with one slim leg crossed over the other, her gold dress riding up her thighs and showcasing some short leather boots that belonged behind my back.

  “I’m going to ask you a question.” I stood a few feet away from her with my hands on my hips.

  Her saucy smile fell a little. “Oh.”

  “You want to be with me?”

  Her brow furrowed. “Of course. I would think that was obvious. I’ve been trying to get you back into bed for weeks—you’re the one who keeps pulling away.”

  “You know that’s not what I meant.” I should have expected she’d deliberately misunderstand.

  She uncrossed her legs and shifted forward on the couch, hands clasped on her lap. “Mark, you know I really like you, and I find you incredibly attractive. I also like spending time with you. But I’m not cut out to be anybody’s girlfriend if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “That is what I’m asking and you know it.” I kept my tone gentle. “I think you’re scared and you’re making excuses. What are you scared of?” I sat down next to her and grabbed one of her hands, rubbing the back of it with my thumb. “Shortcake, what’s scaring you about this?”

  She groaned and dropped her forehead to our connected hands on her lap. “Ugh. This is so hard. I don’t know anymore.”

  “What is your gut telling you right now?” I asked, hoping like hell I’d get the answer I wanted.

  “Honestly?” She pulled her head back up and looked at me.

  “Honestly.”

  “It’s telling me I can trust you.”

  “You can.”

  “It’s also telling me that I am so horny I might actually cause you bodily harm if I get another brush-off, Mark.”

  I laughed. “No more brush-offs. I promise.” It seemed Q & A time was over so I leaned in and met her lips with mine.

  Things quickly became intense—we were both so keyed up from the last few weeks I was starting to wonder if I’d even last long enough to let her come first. Knowing I had to keep myself in check I decided to change up my game plan. I pulled away for a moment when I realized she had already gotten my belt undone and was working on my button with one hand while her other gripped the back of my neck.

  “Come on, Shortcake, we’re taking this to the bedroom.” Before she could protest, I flipped her over my shoulder in a fireman’s hold and strode down the hall. She shrieked and smacked my ass, threatening to put her heel somewhere unpleasant if I didn’t let her down. It was cute.

  I plopped her down unceremoniously on the bed.

  “Why do you do that to me?!”

  “Because I can.” I shrugged my shoulders and then knelt on the bed.

  She huffed and pulled her dress down.

  “Oh, no you don’t.” I pushed it right back up and kept going until it was gathered in a golden swath under her breasts. “Damn.” I’d missed seeing her like this, silky bare skin and lacey panties.

  My hands parted her legs at the knees and I leaned in for a kiss on both of her inner thighs. Goosebumps rose on her skin and she gave a little gasp, so I buried my nose in the lace of her panties, feeling her heat and reveling in her scent. “Your panties are already damp,” I said.

  She panted a little. “No shit. You’ve had me so hot and bothered I’ve never done so much laundry in my life.” She grabbed onto my head, as if I had any intentions of moving from my favorite spot in the world.

  My fingers hooked in the sides of her panties and pulled them down and off. I brought my hands back up to part her folds and then swiped my tongue up, circling it around her clit.

  “Oh God,” she moaned.

  Loving the taste of her, I continued my exploration with my tongue and then added my index finger, slowly making my way inside. She was soaked. I was hard as a rock and hoping like hell I could hang in there.

  “Mark,” she moaned as I found the perfect spot. “I want you inside me.”

  Not wanting to ignore the lady’s request, I took one for the team and decided to comply. I quickly applied a condom from my nightstand and settled over her with my elbows on the bed and my hands framing her face.

  “God, you’re incredible,” I murmured as she squirmed under me. I pushed her hair from her face and traced her lips with my thumb. She opened her mouth and bit it.

  Okay, that was it. The combination of the squirming, biting, and lingering taste of her on my tongue propelled me to action and I pressed into her center, pulling back only once before thrusting completely inside. I groaned and she mewled like a cat, with her nails in my back to make the comparison particularly apt.

  “Don’t stop,” she said, and I continued a slow rhythm while we both worked to remove her dress the rest of the way. Her flimsy bra was next and then my teeth tugged at her pebbled nipples while she groaned her approval and gripped the back of my head.

  Wanting desperately to see her ride me, I easily flipped us over, without losing our connection, and thrust up into her. She cried out and found her rhythm, one hand to my chest and the other to her own breast.

  Shit, that was hot.

  I gripped her hip with one hand and grasped her ass with the other as she rode me. She picked up speed and began whimpering as I thrust up to meet her each time.

  “Holy shit, Mark,” she gasped.

  “Shortcake,” I responded through clenched teeth. “I need you to come.”

  She was moving even faster now and I couldn’t understand the words coming out of her mouth. The only thing I knew was that nothing in my life had ever felt better and I was about to come in the next few seconds. I brought my thumb down to her clit and circled it a couple times.

  That did the trick. She exploded around me, writhing and squeezing my cock with her inner walls as she climaxed. Needless to say, I was right behind her.

  She collapsed in a sweaty heap on my chest with my cock still inside her. I couldn’t have moved if I’d tried. To be honest, I wanted to stay just like this for the rest of my life with Fiona on top of me sated, happy, and relaxed.

  Once I worked up the energy I brought my hand up to stroke her hair. “Are you still alive?”

  “Barely,” she mumbled. “Actually, I might be dead after all. I’m not sure yet. I’ll get back to you.”

  I chuckled and the movement of my chest caused her to move with it.

  “Hey, some people are trying to sleep here so knock it off,” she said.

  “I hate to break it to you, but there is the matter of the condom to take care of at some point.” I continued to stroke her hair and had as little enthusiasm to break our contact as she did.

  “Bah,” was all she said.

  “Are you a sheep now?”

  “Shhh, not a sheep, asleep.” She sounded drunk.

  I couldn’t help but laugh again, finally causing her to roll off me and collapse on the bed.

  “I’ll be right back.” I leaned over and kissed her lips before pulling myself up to go take care of the condom.

  When I got back to bed she was in the same exact position, gloriously naked and resting on her back with her hands above her head. I climbed over her again, dropping kisses on her belly, breasts, chin, and lips. My eyes roamed her face and she opened her drowsy eyes and gave me a smile so sweet it practically knocked the wind out of me.

  Without any thought, I went ahead and did the dumbest thing in the world. I opened my big fucking mouth and said the one thing sure to ruin everything.

  “I’m falling in love with you, Shortcake.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Scent of a Man (Al Pacino Will Not Be Appearing in This Feature)

  FIONA

  No No No No No!

  Why did he have to say that? I was basking so blissfully in my afterglow and mentally writing my Dear Diary entry on the best sex of my life. I was even going to
include classic phrases like “swollen staff” and “glistening portal of womanhood” and “fiery culmination,” and he had to go and ruin it by saying the most fucking wonderful thing anybody could say to another person.

  Dammit!

  I proceeded to flip the fuck out by squeaking—yes, I actually squeaked—and then retreating as quickly as possible to the bathroom.

  I’d been in Mark’s house a couple times before, but never for long lest I use my womanly wiles to lure him into the bedroom at a time that conflicted with his “trick Fiona into buying the cow” plan. Up until this evening, I had only seen the main living space and the kitchen. The house was nestled in a quiet street in an older neighborhood with beautiful mature trees and winding sidewalks. Mark kept the place very tidy and the furnishings were classic but simple—nothing fussy in the least, yet a step up from “single twenties guy” decor.

  What I’d seen of the bedroom on my upside-down ride there seemed to be much of the same, and now I was getting my first look at his bathroom. It, too, was tidy, but that wasn’t the first thing I noticed. As soon as I slammed the door behind me and leaned against it, that scent surrounded me. It was a little different—a little more sterile—than when it was combined with Mark’s own personal scent, but this was definitely it.

  Happy to focus on something other than the horrible/wonderful thing he had just said, I let my nose lead the way and bloodhounded it over to the bar of soap sitting unceremoniously in a plain soap dish next to the faucet.

  Soap? Not possible.

  Soap did not make you want to consume an entire person in one bite. Soap did not make butterflies invade your belly and have a rave. Soap did not make you want to throw caution to the wind and risk absolute heartbreak. Soap did not make you fall for a guy.