by Tina Ness
He grabs my bag and purse, then takes my hand. I feel the blow of the car door rattling in its hinges as he throws it into place, clearly letting off some steam.
He drops my bag just inside the door as we step over the threshold, then scoops me up in his arms. I bury my face in his neck. He carries me up some stairs and down a long hallway before pulling down the covers and gently lowering me onto the bed.
I’m a bit surprised he is so eager to have me that he can’t let me recover awhile first. He crawls in behind me, pulling the covers up over us and simply holding me there. He holds me for the longest time, and it is just what I need right now. It is the sweetest thing I’ve ever experienced. The warmth of our bodies through our clothes is great, but skin on skin would be so much better.
“Marshall,” I whisper. “I want to feel your skin on mine.”
“Beth, that’s not why I brought you up here. I just planned to hold you, comfort you.”
“And you’re doing just that. But I need to feel closer to you. I want to feel your skin against mine,” I breathe.
I reach for the bottom corners of his shirt.
He takes my wrist. “Please, Beth, let me do this.”
His motions are soft and graceful as he removes everything but my bra and panties, and then I watch as he strips down to his briefs. He lowers back down onto the bed and slides back in behind me. Flesh on flesh, breath for breath, legs and arms tangled. It works like magic, and we both drift off to sleep.
***
A soft golden light fills his room as I awaken. His warm body is still wrapped around mine. I hardly move, and he is up on one elbow, looking down at me.
“How are you feeling?” Worry is still ragged in his voice.
“So much better. You gave me just what I needed.” I place a soothing hand along his chiseled jaw.
He gets up from the bed and scoops up my clothes, setting them next to me. He kisses my forehead. “I’ll go get your bag.” He disappears out the door.
Getting dressed, I let my eyes wander around his room. The room décor has me wondering if it’s his taste or if this was her design. Was this the room they had shared, the home they had shared? Did he move after her death? All of a sudden, I feel uncomfortable and out of place. I need to get out of this room. I head down the hallway and slip into the bathroom.
Marshall calls to me from outside the door. “Beth, do you need your bag, or should I put it in the bedroom?”
“The bedroom’s fine.” I feel a twinge of guilt for feeling jealous, even if only for a minute, of a woman who was taken too early from this earth, who suffered needlessly for months, who will no longer get to be wrapped in the loving comfort of such a strong, selfless creature as Marshall Roderick. Why should I get to have this, this thing with Marshall that feels so good?
“Just head downstairs when you’re finished, okay, Beth?”
“Okay.” I glance in the mirror, and after one look at my swollen eyes, I wish I had my bag.
I know I need to fill Marshall in on my visit from Detective Damico and the article, but I just want a little more time to feel like my life wasn’t flipped upside down. Marshall has been through too much, and I need to protect him from pain. This is my pain to deal with.
As I descend the stairway, a large black-and-white framed image captures my attention. It takes up a good portion of the wall. Marshall and two little blond-haired girls—they must be his nieces—are frozen in motion. Marshall’s arms are wrapped around them, and he has such a look of joy on his face it almost hurts my heart. The younger girl has a hose in her hand with water spouting from it. All of them are soaking wet and laughing hysterically. It’s one of the most beautiful images I’ve ever seen. I can’t help but wonder what kind of father he would be. If I had to take a guess off this picture alone, I’d say he would be the perfect dad.
Marshall’s distant voice arrests my attention. “I’m aware that you don’t typically pick up the cars you detail, but I need you to make an exception. My girlfriend’s car needs to be cleaned thoroughly. I can take my business elsewhere if—”
I feel like a love-stricken teenager when I hear him call me his girlfriend.
“I was hoping you’d say that. Yes, the works. I need every inch of that car scrubbed clean.” He finishes up when I reach his side in his kitchen. “Hold on,” he says into the phone before he pulls it away from his ear. “Beth, what’s your keyless entry code?”
“It doesn’t work. Been broken for months.”
Perplexed, he puts the phone back to his ear. “I’ll leave the keys on top of the passenger-side front tire. Thanks for helping me out, Roger,” he says into the phone. This Roger must be someone he knows since it’s well after normal business hours. Makes me wonder what other kinds of connections Marshall has.
He hangs up, then clutches me in a hug. “Well, I hadn’t intended for the two of us to nap so long. I have some filet mignon marinating in the fridge. I can fire up the grill now if you’re hungry.”
“That would be great, but Marshall, you don’t need to have my car—”
He puts up a hand. “Yes, Beth, I do, and you’re not going to argue with me on this, either.”
I can’t help but smile. I want to argue with him, but it just feels so good to have someone take care of you. I kiss him and bite his lower lip. “Well, thank you. It’s very sweet of you.”
“What I should really do is have Roger tow it away. I could take you to get something else tomorrow.” He shakes his head, bringing his gaze to the floor.
“Marshall, I like my car. Plus, I can’t afford anything else, not with quitting my job and not knowing how steady my income will be. She has a few more good years in her.”
“I just don’t like it, Beth.” He turns and grabs the steaks from the fridge and sets them on the counter. “Will you go grab me your keys while I start the grill?”
***
I bring in the last of the contents from the patio where I had enjoyed the best piece of steak I have ever had in my life. Marshall knows his food and drink, a quality I find extremely sexy. He let me choose the wine from his wine rack, a 2005 from Damselfly Vineyards, which Marshall said is one of his favorites and that I really enjoyed.
I watch him as he moves around the kitchen, drying the last pan and wiping down the counter, before I approach him with the question weighing on my mind.
“Marshall, can I ask you something?”
He drops the towel onto the counter and turns to me. “Of course you can.” He takes a step closer to me, no doubt sensing my apprehension.
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want.” I suddenly wonder if I need to know. Does it really matter? Will I be fine with any answer he gives me?
“Beth, I have nothing to hide. Ask me anything?”
“Is this the house”—I shift my weight to my other leg—“you shared with your wife?”
“Yes.” He nods.
“And the shed?” I motion toward the backyard with my head.
“Yes.”
Shit, now what? What do I do with this? What do I say? I shift nervously to the other hip. “Isn’t it hard for you to be in this house?”
“Well, at first it was, but as time went by, some of the memories began to fade, and well, it just gets easier. Certain things will trigger a memory, I’d imagine, for the rest of my life, but she would want me to move on, and I want to move on. A new house just never felt like the answer.”
“Does it feel weird to have me here?”
“I wasn’t totally sure how I was going to feel with you here, but what I realize now is that having you here is actually really good for me. I finally feel like I can get past all of this and have a normal future…” He stops, leaving it feeling unfinished, and I wonder what it is he didn’t say.
“You know you can ask me anything you want about my past, too, if you want,” I offer, even though I know I have nothing interesting to tell.
He takes my hands where I’m twirling my ring and raise
s them above me, stepping me back and pinning them to the wall. “If you haven’t noticed, Beth, I have quite a thing for you. Your past relationships don’t even matter anymore, just the here and now. I don’t care what road led you here, led you to me, and molded you into the beautiful woman standing here before me. All I know is that who you are is perfect.”
I’m just a redheaded girl with a mundane life, hoping to go places, hoping to belong, hoping to make her mark. I have so little to offer him. How he doesn’t see that or doesn’t seem to care, I don’t know, but in this moment, I want to give him all of me, my heart, my soul, my body. I need to feel his desire both inside and out. I need him to take me somewhere that has been out of reach in the past.
Chapter 26
He presses his exquisite frame tightly against mine. It seems he wants and needs me to feel his readiness. My hands are still restrained above my head against the wall. A whimper is freed from my parted lips, and it’s all he needs to hear before tasting from my mouth with a greed and fury that consumes me. His heated hand trails up my middle and slides along to my back, where he sets free the clasp on my new black lace bra.
“Keep your hands up,” he commands, freeing me of the upper barrier. His hand again grips mine while his mouth travels to my erect nipples, where his wet tongue sways and swirls before rapid flicks make me dizzy with delight. Exultant heat encompasses my womanhood, while each heartbeat pounds over the sensitive folds. His fervent mouth meets mine before his free hand travels down to the button on my jeans. The vibration of the clashing zipper metal makes me moan as I grab ahold of his lower lip, dragging my teeth firmly across it. His hand sinks deep into the silk, gliding along the heated slickness.
“Oh, Baby, you’re so wet.” His voice is low and husky.
His fingers run up and down each warm inch with painstaking precision before his finger lightly taps on my clit with the just the right amount of pressure, making my back arch and my knees wobble. Kisses sweep over my neck and onto my chin.
He spins me around to face the wall. His mouth leisurely runs the length of my spine as his hands free me of my jeans and panties. Kneeling on the floor, he massages my backside while sliding his teeth along its flesh. He runs his tongue along the back of my upper thigh, and I note this zone as one of my new favorites. He rises, and his breath dances over my neck.
“Beth, I want to take you like this, but only if you want me to.”
“Yes, Marshall, please. I need you to take me.” I push my body back further into his, offering him my readiness.
Before I have a chance to acknowledge it, he has removed his clothes and the crinkle and rip of wrapping is barely heard over my heavy breath. His arm moves around my waist, causing a deep arch in my back, bringing me in even closer to him until I feel the intoxicating sensation of his length entering me with long, deep thrusts. I tip my head back against him.
He hisses in my ear, “Can I fuck you, Beth?”
His words make my tongue dry, and I can’t swallow. I’m confused. He’s inside me already, but I will play. “Yes,” I breathe.
“Say it, Beth.”
I swallow down the hard lump in my throat. “I want you to fuck me, Marshall.”
With that, he explodes into a fit of deep, penetrating thrusts. His hand buries deep into my hair, pulling my head back toward his. He proficiently suckles the flesh of my neck. The thunderous, hard slapping of skin, heavy moans, and racing breaths are music to my ears. If I would have known where that one dirty sentence could lead us, I would have said it sooner.
I’m at his mercy, and I love it. I crave him so deeply it’s almost like I need it. I need it to feel alive, unbroken, and worthy. One hand still holds my wrists while the other moves to firmly pinch one of my already tingling nipples, turning my body into a virtual puddle beneath his skilled fingers. His hands now grip my hips, crashing me into him harder. My head turns as I kiss his neck. The salt of our passion graces my tongue, making me long for more. An intense desire burns in me as the world begins to spin. Both of us writhe together as we let go of a week’s worth of tension, heartache, and longing. The moment is so powerful and glorious that my eyes prickle with tears.
As we unravel, weakness lowers us to the floor, where we both remain for a few moments on our knees. His arms are wrapped around my waist and his breath is weighted as he whispers in my ear, “Beth, do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”
I wrap my arms over his and place a cheek back on his left arm, nuzzling into it. “Hopefully, the same thing you’re doing to me.”
He kisses my head and lifts me up into his arms as easily as you would scoop up a child. He flicks off each light as he carries me again up the staircase and down the long hallway toward his bedroom.
“I would love a shower before bed,” I say, looking into his denim blues. He backs up a few steps and sets me down on the cool tile floor.
“You hop in, and I’ll go grab your bag and bring it in to you.” He steals one more kiss before he turns to head to the bedroom.
I have never before showered with a man. I’ve never known the feel of warm lathered hands gliding over my skin, never known how cared for something so simple can make you feel. As Marshall washes my hair, the tears begin, tears and shuddering shoulders I don’t have the power to hold back.
Clearly panicked when he notices, he turns my body to his. “Oh, God, Beth, what have I done? I took it too far, didn’t I? I was too rough with you.”
“No, Marshall, that’s not it.” I sniffle and try to calm myself. I want to tell him I’ve fallen in love with him. I want to tell him how badly I need him, how being with him is the only time I feel safe, unafraid, and like I matter. But I can’t. I still fear he will reject me bit by bit, just like Tanner did, just like Gavin did.
I place my hand on Marshall’s cheek. “You were perfect. It was perfect. I’ve just never had anyone take care of me like this.”
He places a hand over mine. “I’ll take care of you again tomorrow if you want.”
“Please,” I say before he holds me tightly in a hug, our bodies fitting together like we were designed to fill each other’s curves. Several minutes pass as the warm water rolls over our bodies—until the temptation of sleep becomes too great.
We crawl under the covers, and within seconds, my heavy eyelids win the battle. I begin to drift off.
“Hey, Beth,” Marshall whispers in my ear, “would you be okay with going to my parents’ for dinner tomorrow night? All of my family will be there. Aubrey and her family are driving into town in the morning. They also have a bunch of fireworks to light off.”
“Sure,” I moan before drifting off to sleep.
***
Saturday, July 3
Marshall leans against the bathroom doorframe, watching me as I fight all my hair into a messy bun.
“Maybe I should wait until Monday to taste the new batch of absinthe. It’s not like it’s going anywhere.”
“Marshall, you just finished telling me how thrilled you are about this new blend. I promise you, I will be just fine. Go do what you have to do. I told you that you don’t need to feel like you have to take care of me.”
He kisses me on the top of the head. “I won’t be long. You can still come with me if you want.”
I just smile and shake my head at him in the mirror, and he’s off.
I brush my teeth before heading down to the kitchen, where Marshall said he’d left me breakfast. He instructed I get to it soon before it gets cold. The room at the top of the steps with its door closed piques my curiosity, and I can’t help but take a peek. Come on, it’s a closed door; who wouldn’t be curious? It’s like someone’s medicine cabinet; you can’t help but wonder what it is you can’t see and what you can learn about someone—usually more than you want to. I typically make a habit of refraining, but this closed door has my head spinning with the idea that there is more to Marshall’s history, more of him I’m dying to learn about.
I turn the knob, and it
’s unlocked. He had to know I would look inside, being that I’ve passed it three times now. He must have nothing to hide. The room is painted pale pink, a queen-sized bed covered in a pretty flowery patterned quilt, a dresser and a gliding chair with ottoman. It is clearly a girly bedroom. They must have had this room set up for Marshall’s nieces. Marshall said his wife loved to take the girls.
I walk over to the dresser to inspect a small, square cardboard box. I lean over to view whatever is inside. The words “crack me” are written on the inner flap, and two speckled egg halves lie cracked inside a tiny nest. Someone clearly received the content of the egg. I wonder what was in it. A love note, a gift, an announcement? I wonder which one of them was the creative brain behind this little treasure. I wonder what their life had been like, what his wife Sarah did for a living, how hard it must have been to lose her.
I turn and exit, heart beating erratically with guilt.
I head downstairs to my breakfast and take a seat at the counter. That’s when I remember how last night I’d agreed to meet his entire family. What will they all think of me? What if his sisters don’t like me? Will they be comparing me to Sarah?
I clean off my plate of barely-eaten breakfast and head up to shower. Just as I finish blow-drying my hair, Marshall breezes into the bathroom. Excitedly he announces that the absinthe was perfect and that they will be ready to start marketing it in the next few months and he will be off around the country to promote it.
“That’s great, Marshall,” I tell him, but I can’t help but wonder what it will mean for us.
“I have a surprise for you.” Marshall beams and takes my hand, leading me downstairs. “Put your shoes on. It’s outside.”
I shoot him a look of disapproval even though my heart is fluttering with eagerness.
My silver Ford Escape is parked on the side of the street, cleaner and shinier than I’ve ever seen her.
“But, you just called last night. How is it done already?”
He takes my hand, and we move down the walk. “Roger’s the best in the business. And a bottle of our finest assured he would get right to it,” he laughs.