by Danielle Monsch, Cate Rowan, Jennifer Lewis, Jeannie Lin, Nadia Lee, Dee Carney
“He would not believe you weren’t here. Forced his way in! Insisted on sitting on my steps until you came back!”
Sandy looked at Marco. His storm-cloud eyes searched her face.
“I didn’t like the look of him one bit. I’m not in the habit of having brutes lounging around in my hallway, laying in wait for young ladies on their way home from work.”
Marco wore jeans and a black T-shirt. Without his suit he didn’t come with any unspoken promise of respectability.
“And I know this young lady is not the type of girl who entertains men after hours.” Her darting, birdlike eyes hopped from Marco to Sandy and back to Marco. “She lives quietly. And you….” She waggled an accusing finger at Marco. “You don’t seem like the type of—”
“It’s okay, Mrs. Patel. He’s a friend.” Sandy’s voice barely rose above a whisper. She avoided Marco’s eyes.
“That’s all right then,” said Mrs. Patel slowly. Her forehead wrinkled. “I don’t mean to intrude. But I worry about you, a young girl all alone.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Patel, I appreciate it.”
Marco stood silently during the exchange. When Sandy signaled for him to follow her up to her apartment he nodded to her landlady and climbed the stairs behind her.
“Thanks,” said Marco, after she’d closed her apartment door behind him. She immediately felt ashamed of her Spartan railroad apartment, with its cast-off furnishings. She picked up a plate with an orange peel on it that she’d left on the table and put it in the sink.
Like that would help.
The jig was up. He could see how she lived. No glamour here.
But Marco wasn’t looking around her apartment. His eyes were fixed tightly on her, dark pupils searching her face, wandering over it, claiming it. Sandy’s throat tightened as his eyes dropped to her neck, her collarbone. Heat surged through her, appearing no doubt as a revealing flush.
“You didn’t think I’d just let you go?”
Did she? She felt ashamed of how she’d hoped he’d come after her. She’d realized that when she caught herself looking for his car, hunting for him on her street.
“You should.” She swallowed hard, holding his gaze with considerable effort.
“Don’t try to tell me what I should do. I can decide for myself.” His eyes were blackened by unreadable emotion.
“I’m not who you think I am.” The words almost choked her.
“So you keep saying. Right now I have no idea who you are, so that line of thinking is irrelevant. I just know you are…you.”
Sandy wore her conservative gray interview suit, and she was grateful for the stiff fabric that concealed the way her body was trembling.
The heat was oppressive. Sandy crossed the modest space that was both kitchen and living room to shove open the dingy window and turn on the fan.
“Could I have a glass of water?” asked Marco.
“Sure.” She was glad of the distraction of filling a glass with cold water from the jug she kept in the fridge. At least her hospitality was able to stretch that far.
“I’m sorry it’s so hot in here.”
“No problem.” Marco swallowed his water in one long draught and set the glass down on the table. She couldn’t help but notice the latent power in the coiled muscles of his forearms. Tan skin with a dusting of black hair.
She remembered the way his hands had felt on her body. Their touch so tender, their caress so arousing. Sweat darkened his black T-shirt in the hollow between his pectorals, and he rubbed at the spot while they watched each other in silence.
Lord, it was hot.
“Why don’t we start over? I know you’re Sandy Riley, you have lovely hazel eyes, and you live in an apartment in Jersey City, conveniently located for commuting to your—former—job as a sales representative at Danieli Electronics.”
“I found a new job.”
He nodded approval. “Good for you.”
“I don’t make much money.”
“So? I make my own money. I’m not looking for a woman to support me.” His eyes roved over her face, and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“I only have two semesters of college,” she said, anxious to shatter the rest of the illusion.
“That’s two more than me then.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Didn’t go. Taught myself.”
“Oh.” Oddly, the information soothed her. Her own lack of education made her feel insecure around those who had far more knowledge and refinement. “Like Bill Gates.”
Marco laughed. “Don’t let him hear you say that. But yeah.” He raked his fingers through his black hair, then wiped a forearm across his brow.
“I’m sorry it’s so hot.”
“You don’t have to keep saying that. It’s hot everywhere. Can we sit down?”
“Of course. I’m a lousy hostess.”
“And you can change out of your suit if you want. I won’t even insist on watching.”
Though I’d be more than glad to.
The unspoken addendum shone in his eyes.
Sandy was glad of the excuse to duck out of his presence, even for a minute. Her heart thudded against her ribs, perspiration trickled down her back, and her body was giving her all sorts of mixed signals that were making routine thought quite a challenge.
She closed the bedroom door quietly behind her and slipped into a light summer dress with a floral pattern. She pinned her hair up off her neck, leaving a curly strand or two loose to soften the look. Not exactly glamorous, but so far Marco wasn’t complaining.
He actually seemed to like the way she looked.
That was more than a little frightening. It was one thing to attract his attention, to flirt with him, while wearing a mask. It was quite another to think she might hold his interest as herself.
The thought of him sitting on her sofa made her pulse skitter. Now that she’d seen him naked, it was hard to look at the broad chest in the black T-shirt and not picture in detail the swell of the hard muscles beneath it.
She dabbed a touch of cologne behind each ear—why not?—and walked back into the living room.
Marco’s face warmed with appreciation as he took in her breezy dress and bare feet. “You look pretty.”
“Thanks.” The temperature seemed to shoot up another five degrees as his smoky gaze simmered over her body, as if he could see right through the gauzy fabric of her dress.
“Come sit down.” Marco motioned to the empty space on the sofa beside him. Swallowing hard, Sandy padded across the floor and eased herself into the spot. She resisted a sudden urge to fan herself with her hand.
“Now…” He leaned toward her slightly, tilting his body so he faced her head on. “I want to know why you pretended to be someone else when we met.”
“It’s not easy to explain.”
“I don’t care if it’s easy or not. Don’t you think I deserve an explanation?”
“Yes.” Sandy bit her lip. “I guess I just wanted…to be glamorous. I’ve seen the photos in the magazines of all the beautiful women you go out with. I knew you didn’t notice me the way I normally look. I wanted that one night to be special. I never intended it to go beyond a single date.”
Marco lowered his lids. His eyes smoldered, suspicious and intrigued. “And why did you run away?”
“I had to get to work.”
“And you couldn’t just say, ‘Hey Marco, I’ve got to be at work at midnight,’ and I’d have said, ‘No problem, may I have your phone number so we can make plans to get together again’?”
Sandy shook her head. “Then you’d have known I wasn’t a successful career woman.”
“But you are. You’ve got a good record. I read your personnel file when I was rifling though it looking for your address.”
Sandy raised an eyebrow, challenging him. “I’m a telemarketer. How many telemarketers have you dated?”
“Only one, as far as I know, but who knows how many of the other women
I’ve dated were telemarketers in disguise.” Marco winked at her.
The gesture sent a shimmer of sensation up her spine and made heat gather low in her belly.
Marco leaned toward her a little. “There’s no shame in selling products for Danieli Electronics. At least I don’t think so.”
“Oh no, I didn’t mean to imply that… But I shouldn’t have entered the contest at all.”
“You didn’t. Your name wasn’t on the list of raffle winners.”
She bit her lip.
Marco placed his finger over her mouth. “No more lies.” The touch of his fingertip sent an electrical tickle of sensation that stung her mouth, making her lips part slightly. Every inch of her body tingled with awareness of him.
“A friend gave me the ticket. I won’t say who.”
“Well, whoever your friend is, I owe her a debt of gratitude.” Marco’s eyes held hers, searching. “You ran away, but then you gave me my third wish anyway.”
Sandy bit her lip. “I wanted to see you again.”
“I liked the phone calls. They were very…provocative. At that hour you must have called me from work.”
She blushed. Making sexy phone calls to the boss while on the clock had to be grounds for dismissal. Lucky thing she’d fired herself already.
“Yes.” She hesitated. “I told you I wasn’t someone you’d want to know.”
Marco grinned. “I like you more every second. I’m picturing you sitting in one of those anonymous gray cubicles, whispering sweet nothings into the phone while I’m tying myself up in knots at the other end.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.” His voice was a husky murmur. “I took my clothes off for you. I didn’t want to lie to you after I’d told you I was naked. You made me strip. You made me crazy.”
His eyes shone with amusement. And desire.
Sandy felt a curl of excitement below her belly button. Her body strained toward him even as she tried to hold it in check. Her nipples tightened beneath the light fabric of her dress, and she wondered if he could see them.
“I couldn’t help it. I hadn’t meant to talk to you again. To see you again. But…” She paused, not sure what to say.
“But you felt the connection between us, too.” His voice rumbled low.
“Yes.”
“And can you feel it now?” The thundercloud darkness of Marco’s eyes hinted at a storm that neither of them would be able to control.
“Yes,” she whispered, as desire and unspeakable emotion whirled in the air around them.
Sandy leaped to her feet. “Would you like some more water?” she gasped.
A sudden burst of adrenaline propelled her across the room. Fight or flight! Too clearly she could imagine Marco’s hands on her body, his lips on hers—
She held her glass under the faucet, forgetting about the iced water in the fridge. She held her hand under the water, then her wrist, letting the cool cascade flow over her pulse point. Trying to cool her blood.
It was far too hot.
She glanced back at Marco, who’d lifted the hem of his T-shirt to wipe his face with it. The gesture revealed the flat expanse of his stomach. The view was extended as he lifted his T-shirt up over his head, pulled it off and mopped at his neck and broad shoulders.
“Too hot,” Sandy breathed. The sound of her own voice startled her. She’d spoken her thoughts aloud.
The sight of Marco sitting shirtless on her sofa was more than she could bear and remain sane. As she watched, he rose from the sofa and used his balled-up shirt to dry the skin of his back.
“Sorry,” he said, looking at her. “This isn’t too gentlemanly, but I don’t want to perspire all over your furniture.”
“That’s okay,” she choked.
“Thanks.” As he took the glass from her, his fingers brushed against hers. A current of sensation shot up her arm. All the way to her nipples, which bloomed with awareness of his body.
Marco drained the glass and set it down. Then he reached out and placed his hand on her waist. Her eyes were level with his collarbone and she saw the muscle moving above it as his hand slipped behind her back.
Softly he tugged her up against him. Her breasts bumped gently against the bare warm skin of his chest. He settled his other arm around her, enveloping her.
“God, it feels good to hold you,” he murmured.
She pressed her face into his shoulder, inhaling the musky scent of hot, sweaty male. Her heart jumped. Slowly she lifted her arms and circled them around his torso.
Holding Marco felt so right.
In his arms, Sandy felt her nagging doubt surrender to the inevitability of their coming together. As they held each other, the storm built inside them. She could feel it, starting in her heart, rushing though her belly, her breasts, down to her legs and the throbbing dark space between them.
Marco lowered his mouth to kiss her. Her lips parted and welcomed his probing tongue into the warm depths. She groaned, writhing against him as shockwaves of sensation coursed through her body.
He held her tightly, stroking her back with his hands, protective. The strange comfort of being safe in his arms clashed with the passion he created in her. Heat radiated from the core of her body as blood rushed to her sex. Marco’s big hands drifted down to her buttocks, cupping them and pulling her up toward him.
Crushed against the hard muscles of his torso, her breasts throbbed and tingled, wanting Marco’s hands on them.
As if he read her thoughts, Marco pulled back from her a few agonizing inches and lifted his hands to her breasts, settling his palms over the nipples. He teased the hardened peaks with his thumbs, then lowered his mouth over her right breast, sucking the nipple deeply through the thin fabric of her dress.
Sandy’s body bucked at the intense sensation. Her hands knitted themselves into his sweat-dampened hair as she let out a soft moan.
Obviously aroused by her abandon, Marco sucked harder, rubbing the other breast with his broad fingertips until the peak was hard as steel.
Sandy’s whole body quivered with the agonizing overload of desire.
“Make love to me,” she murmured.
And she meant it. Love. She wanted to make love to Marco, to have him make love to her. No apologies, no excuses. Consequences be damned.
And she couldn’t wait another second.
Pulling him to her, she struggled with the button fly of his jeans, ripping the buttons from their holes with trembling fingers.
The visible evidence of his arousal made her aware of how wet she was. Marco cupped her sex with his fingers, feeling her heat through the fabric of her dress.
He groaned. He tugged at the top of her dress and pulled it down over her breasts. He paused to lower his head and lick the bare flesh of her nipples, then pushed her dress down past her waist to the floor, where it pooled around her feet. Her panties quickly joined the rumpled dress and once again she stood naked before him.
But this time she wanted to lead the dance.
She hesitated, and his eyes opened. She looked into them, licking her lips and flashing a challenge. Then she pushed him gently, shoving him toward the big armchair that stood behind him. His legs bound by his half-lowered jeans, he fell backward into the chair with a grunt.
Sandy yanked at the hem of his jeans and freed him before climbing over him, poised to mount the glistening rod that rose from the dark hair between his legs.
“Protection,” moaned Marco, his face pained. “I didn’t…I…”
“I have some.” Sandy had prepared for her visit to his apartment. She raced into her bedroom and rifled through her things until she unearthed the small box of condoms.
Her body was screaming with the agony of her arousal as she settled herself urgently on Marco’s lap, clawing at the packet with her fingertips. Marco quickly took it from her, expertly ripped it open, and sheathed himself.
Her arms wound tightly around his neck, her sex warm and wet, Sandy lowered herself slowly over
Marco’s member. She let out a low, guttural groan of pleasure as his hard, male flesh filled her.
Bracing her knees against the arms of the overstuffed chair, she raised and lowered her body over him, glorying in the sensation that flooded every part of her.
She sought his lips and kissed him. Her mouth roved over his, her tongue teasing and jousting. Marco’s scent filled her senses as she pressed against him.
His hands covered her breasts, rubbing and caressing as she slid up and down. His erection shuddered inside her as she moved.
She cupped Marco’s face in her hands, possessing him. His eyelids were closed, the muscles of his face taut with emotion. In her hands, under her body, he gave himself over to her, trusting her.
He wanted her even after all the things she’d done wrong. He was willing to take a chance on her, to risk his body, to risk his heart. His generosity shook Sandy to the core.
Her life was shaped by fear, guided by the desire to avoid pain. Marco was braver, stronger, fearless in his pursuit of what he wanted. What he needed.
What they both needed.
His hands closed over her buttocks, pulling her to him, increasing the intensity of the rhythm. Blood rushed though her as the push and pull of their bodies mirrored the edgy tango of the dance she’d led him on.
Her breath escaped in ragged gasps as Marco moved her harder, faster, taking the lead and driving them both to the brink of heaven, the brink of madness.
Her innermost muscles squeezed around him, clutching at him, echoing the rhythm of her thundering heartbeat. Suddenly Marco gripped her. A deep moan filled her ears as their joint climax shook them like a devastating earthquake. Sandy felt herself letting go, falling into his arms, breathless and suffused with pleasure.
How could she ever walk away from him now?
Chapter Eight
‡
“Don’t you dare get up.” Marco grabbed at Sandy’s ankle as she tried to get out of bed. “You’re not going anywhere without me, lady.”
He was grinning. They were both relaxed and rested, enjoying the morning sun as it streamed through the blinds of the single window in Sandy’s bedroom.
“I have to pee.”