“Your tits are amazing – I was angry at you. You were so hard to reach, and so different. A different woman, looking at me like she'd never met me before. Stronger than me,” he explained, hunching down as he kissed the valley between her breasts.
“Same woman. I was always stronger than you, you just never realized it,” she pointed out.
The ace bandage had come loose during their fumblings and Marc pulled it away, letting it drop to the ground. Then he was almost kneeling on the floor, his hands and lips soft against the huge red spot that covered most of her ribs on her left side.
“I can't believe I did this to you,” he whispered.
“Me, neither. You used to be good, De Sant. What happened?”
“You happened.”
His hands moved around to her ass and he squeezed her before he stood upright, pulling her with him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he yanked her away from the wall, walking them across the room.
It was a tidal wave, something she couldn't stop, something that was swallowing her whole. It was the first time, in six months, that she felt right. Like everything was okay. Still fucked up and bad and wrong, but … they were together. He wanted her.
Everything is okay.
He dropped her on the bed and began pulling at her pants. As soon as he'd yanked them free, Lily sat up and grabbed his belt, ripping it open. While her fingers worked, he sunk his hands into her hair, tilting her face up so he could kiss her again. Once she got his pants loose and pushed down past his hips, he shoved her back, crawling over her while kicking his legs free of the material.
They were moving too fast, making up for lost time. She had been so angry at him, but now she just wanted this; this sense of completion. Of fulfillment. She'd been empty for months and months. Hollow. She needed this.
“God, I missed this. I dreamed about this,” Marc groaned, his hands working under her sports bra, shoving it away from her chest.
“Don't talk. You just ruin things when you open your mouth,” she said, struggling to get the material over head and free of her arms.
“You sure about that?”
She gasped when his lips clamped down around her nipple, sucking hard. Then he was licking a path up to her throat, his fingers replacing his mouth at her breast.
They went from fast to a double time march. His hand was between her legs, two fingers making themselves at home. Her tongue was in his ear, her fingernails scratching across the scars on his chest. He hissed as she opened old wounds, then he was moving his hand up her body, forcing his fingers into her mouth.
While her tongue worked around his knuckles, she felt him moving around between her legs. She bit down on his fingers as he started pushing inside of her and he hissed again, dragging his hand away from her mouth. She cried out when his hips finally met hers.
I can't believe this is happening again. Why aren't we always doing this? It's the only time we see eye to eye on anything.
“See? This is what home feels like,” he sighed in her ear, and absurdly, she felt like crying.
“I'd forgotten,” she whispered back.
“I'll remind you.”
He gripped the back of her knee and shoved her leg forward, almost till it was touching her chest, and he pushed himself up so he was kneeling. He thrust against her and she cried out again, clawing her fingers through her hair and down her face.
“Oh … my … god … I really had forgotten what you're like,” she was gasping for air even as he pounded it out of her. He chuckled.
“I get it now,” he grunted, his other hand pressing down at the base of her throat.
“Get what?”
“Why you've been so angry at me.”
“I'm angry because you're an asshole.”
That earned her another laugh.
“It's because you're sexually frustrated. I guess Kingsley really didn't get lucky.”
“Mmm, you so sure? Maybe I've been frustrated because he hasn't touched me since you came back in the picture,” she teased. He glared down at her, and the hand on her chest moved to her mouth, covering it entirely. His thumb hooked under her chin, holding her jaw in place.
“You want to see me kill him? Keep talking like that,” he growled, and his thrusts became almost brutal.
Lily's eyes rolled back in her head and she moaned in time to his hips, the sound muffled by his hand. She didn't even care. She'd gone so long without him, that just being in his presence had been like foreplay. He was right – she had been frustrated. Just a ball of pent up sexual energy, and she was ready to explode. A tremor ripped through her body, a precursor to the monster orgasm that was building, and it was Marc's turn to shout as her body locked down around him. His hand fell away from her mouth and he stilled for a moment.
“Please. Please, Marc, please,” she whined, undulating her hips beneath him. He leaned down, pressing his chest flat against her.
“God, finally, there it is. Say it again,” he groaned, working his hips in a circle, but not pulling back from her. It drove her insane, the friction of his movements combined with the feeling of being so full with him.
“Marc.”
“Again.”
“Marc, please. Please, Marc, please, please, please ...”
His let go of her leg and his forearm hit the bed, right next to her ear. With his chest still touching hers, he began jackhammering his hips against her, making her shriek again. Her hands gripped his sides, fingers digging into his rib cage.
“Look at me,” his voice was more like a growl.
“Marc, I'm gonna … I'm gonna ...” she couldn't catch her breath enough to finish her statement. Everything was being forced out of her; was being taken by him.
Same ol' story.
“Look at me.”
It was a command, and he didn't give her a chance to heed it. His hand hooked around her jaw, his fingers splaying against the side of her face, and he forced her to turn towards him. Her whole body was going into spasms, spiraling out from where he was pummeling into her.
“Please,” it was the only word that seemed to be left in her vocabulary.
“I have been dying to see this again. C'mon, sweetheart, let go. Let it all go,” he urged her.
Lily screamed when she came, pounding one of her hands against the headboard behind her. The orgasm doubled back on itself, calming down before rushing back through her, causing her back to arch completely off the mattress. Every swear word she'd ever heard came pouring out of Marc's mouth, and his grip on her jaw became painful as he came as well, one of his knees ramming painfully into the back of her thigh. She shivered and shook, wrapping her other arm around his shoulders, trying to hold onto him. Trying to keep herself firmly on earth.
They didn't say anything. The only noise in the room was their ragged breathing. He let himself relax, all of his weight coming down on her, forcing her legs wider. Her thighs began to shake and she licked her lips.
“I can't believe we just did that,” she whispered. He snorted, then she felt his lips against her shoulder.
“I can't believe it took us that long; we could've been fucking since Colombia. See what happens when you're a bitch? You miss out on good sex,” he teased, and she actually laughed.
“See what you miss out on, when you run away and send me a shitty letter,” she tossed back at him.
“Excellent point. I'm an idiot.”
Lily stared at the ceiling, slowly getting her breathing back under control. His letter. She had every word burned into her brain, yet still, they were right back where they'd started.
No, that wasn't true. The diamonds were spilled across the floor, he hadn't taken them. Hadn't even looked at them. She was his home, he'd said. He was sorry, he'd explained. She was too good for him, was his reasoning.
Is that a lie? Or was everything else a lie? Note to self – never fall for a mercenary again. You can never trust them.
“Tell me something,” her voice was hoarse and sounded loud in
the quiet room.
“Anything,” he replied, and his lips were replaced by his teeth, biting on the side of her neck.
“You wrote that stupid letter in Casablanca,” she reminded him, and he grew still. “Why didn't you give it to me then? Why didn't you just say something then?”
“Because …” his voice trailed off, and he was silent for a while.
“Because you were nervous I wouldn't believe you?” she guessed. He shook his head.
“No. I was nervous that you'd talk me out of it,” he explained, and she held her breath. “I wanted you so badly. I wanted what we had, I wanted it to continue. But after I found out about your bounty, I knew we couldn't keep going. I knew I had to take care of you, which meant leaving you. I'm weak when it comes to you, and if I had told you to your face, you would've fought for us. And you would've won. That wouldn't have been right. I wanted to … I had to do what was right. I'm a bad man, Lily. I've done awful things. But you, you are the best thing I've ever done, and I had to do right by that.”
Well. Who knew Marcelle De Sant, the “famed” mercenary, could speak such beautiful words? Lily wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist.
“I get it, Marc. I finally get it. And you're right, I would've fought for us, and I would have won, and we could have done all this together. It's a beautiful sentiment, but you still fucked up,” she told him. He chuckled again.
“Story of my life, sweetheart.”
There was a breeze from somewhere, and Lily shuddered, her sweat covered skin breaking out in goosebumps. They were both still naked and soaking wet, Marc still laying on top of her. She lifted her head and glanced over his shoulder, looking down the length of his body. Took in his muscled back and strong legs. She groaned and fell flat again.
“God, Kingsley is going to kill me,” she groaned.
“You talk about him way too much,” he pointed out.
“You're the one who brought him up during sex.”
“Shut up, Lily.
“This was a big mistake. You know that, right?” she asked.
“Maybe. But I gotta say, you and I? We make the best 'big mistakes', ever,” he replied.
She started laughing, but was cut off when his hand moved to her breast. Then the knee that was shoved against her thigh moved forward, and she was suddenly very much reminded of another time when they'd made a “big mistake”, in the back seat of a stolen SUV, in a dark alleyway.
“Mmm, maybe we have time for just one more of those mistakes,” she whispered, shifting around underneath him.
“Sweetheart, I love the way you think.”
DAY TWO HUNDRED AND EIGHTEEN
Lily woke up slowly, taking her time coming out of the blackness, but movement near the bed abruptly jerked her out of it. She slithered sideways, still not entirely awake and not able to see clearly in the darkness. She immediately reached under her pillow, feeling around for the gun she normally slept on top of.
“Easy there, princess. I thought this morning you wouldn't be quite as hostile towards me.”
Marc's voice was full of laughter, and she realized he was sitting at the foot of the bed. His bed, that's why there was no gun under the pillow. Lily yawned and sat up, scratching a hand through her messy hair.
“What time is it?” she asked, glancing around. All the lights were still out, but sunlight was peeping through the drapes.
“Just after seven,” he said. She looked back at him, and was surprised when she realized he was fully dressed. Even had his shoes on, as well as his jacket.
Uh oh.
“What's going on?” she was on guard, and she hugged the sheets to her chest.
“Last night wasn't a mistake,” he stated. She stared at him.
“If you say so.”
“I do. And I can admit that maybe writing you that letter ... writing you off, that was a mistake,” he went on. She snorted.
“No shit.”
“You're amazing,” he went on, and she was stunned into silence. “Watching you in Colombia, and even at Damiano's. Kingsley was right – he usually is, you know – you are something to behold. Better than I ever could have imagined.”
“He's a good teacher,” she said softly.
“He is.”
“But you could've been a part of it,” she added. He shrugged.
“Too late now. You're right, you don't need me. You probably never needed me. You would've done just fine on your own in Africa,” he laughed as he said it, but she got angry.
“Don't say that,” she snapped.
“No, I'm not saying that I regret it. Shit, Lily, I nearly got killed every day we were together, and it's still the best time I ever had in my life. I would do it all again, in a heartbeat,” he assured her. “I'm just saying, I get it now. What you've been saying since I first met you. You're strong. You're more than capable of taking care of yourself. You're just as good as me, as Kingsley, as anything that's been thrown at you. You don't need me. I don't want to stand in your way.”
She wasn't sure how to respond to that, really. Better than him apologizing for the letter; better than him explaining his reasoning behind leaving her; him admitting that she was an equal. It meant more to her than anything else. She felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.
Finally. It only took three continents and six months for him to admit it.
“That means a lot,” she managed to whisper, then cleared her throat. He sighed and stood up, grabbing something off the nightstand.
“Here, this is for you,” he said, handing her the canvas bundle that held all the diamonds. “It was never about them, you believe me now, right?”
“I'm beginning to,” she replied slowly, taking the package from him.
“You have more than earned them. Look, Stankovski is gonna be in New York. There's this big event, the jewelry showcase, that takes place in an area called the 'Diamond District'. He's going to be there, at the grand opening of his new store. It'll be crowded and crazy, but it's your best shot. I did some digging, and he also owns a home in New York. Some farm, near Ithaca,” Marc explained.
“A farm? Why would he have a farm?” Lily was surprised.
“No clue. He's ostentatious, maybe he just wanted a slice of Americana. He won't be staying there, he had a huge apartment built on top of his store, he'll most likely be there. But just in case, I wrote down the addresses of both locations,” he told her, then nodded at the nightstand. She glanced over and there was notepad sitting there, the first page covered in his chicken scratch.
“Why'd you write them down?”
“So you could have them. That, and any other information I could think of that might come in handy, I put it all down there. No more secrets. No more deals. Now you know exactly what I know. It's all out in the open,” he assured her. She narrowed her eyes.
“Then why do I feel like I'm still missing something?” she asked. He nodded his head and sat back down, but this time at her hip.
“You have your mission. Your crusade. I won't stand in the way of that anymore. And Kingsley … you guys are amazing together. I'm going to do what I should have done back in Liberia. I'm going to step aside, and I'm going to let you do what you need to do,” he told her.
“You're leaving.”
He reached out and grabbed her hand.
“Yes.”
There was a long silence. Lily wasn't sure what to say. He was right, really. Ever since he'd chained her up in Liberia, she'd been begging him to let her finish her mission. Ever since she'd bumped into him in Colombia, she'd been trying to get him to leave. He was rash, and he was sloppy. Worse, he was a distraction. One she didn't need, so close to her finish line.
“So I guess last night really was a mistake,” she managed to laugh, wrapping her fingers around his and squeezing tight.
“No. I think last night was the first time in a long time that I didn't make a mistake,” his voice was soft as he squeezed her back.
&
nbsp; “Thank you, for telling me the truth. And for giving me the information. I mean, I totally would've found it on my own,” she joked, and he laughed.
“Of course.”
“But thank you, Marc.”
“Anytime, sweetheart.”
The silence became awkward. She didn't want him to go, but she had to no reason to ask him to stay. She didn't need his help. He finally smiled at her, slapped the back of her hand, then let her go before he stood up.
“Do you have a plan?” she asked, watching as he slipped his pack over his shoulder.
“Do I ever have a plan? Nah, not really. Maybe it's finally time for that vacation,” he teased.
“Maybe. Take care of yourself, okay?” she told him. He pulled the straps of the bag tight, then walked towards her.
“Always. And hey, maybe if you ever get a free moment, tell me how you're doing.”
“Why? Want to keep tabs on me?”
“No, but you're a crazy bitch, I worry about you.”
She burst out laughing.
“Alright, Marc. I'll hunt you down.”
“You better.”
He leaned down and kissed her then. It was bittersweet. A moment that had to happen, but she didn't want it to end. She pressed her hand to the side of his face, then let her fingers slide around to the back of his neck, holding onto him.
“I'll miss you,” she whispered when he moved to press his forehead against hers.
“You can't stand me,” he pointed out.
“True. But still.”
“Yeah, I know. I'll miss you, too, sweetheart.”
They shared one more kiss, then Marc pulled back from her. Her hand fell away, landing on the mattress with a thump. She had the bundle of diamonds in her other hand, gripping them to her chest. Inexplicably, she wanted to throw them. Hurl them across the room. Rid herself of them.
“See you around, De Sant,” she called out as he opened the door. He smirked at her.
“Not if I see you first, Brewster,” he called back. Then he winked, stepped through the door, and was gone. Lily leaned forward, pressing her forehead to her knees.
Out of Plans (The Mercenaries #2) Page 16