“You’re bossy,” she muttered.
Shit, she had no idea. But he noticed she didn’t hesitate either, grabbing fistfuls of the full skirt, dragging higher, inch by scant inch. By the time the skirt had cleared the taut curve of her ass, he was about ready to shove it up himself, but he waited. Teeth gritted, muscles clenched…he waited. And sure enough, those lace-topped stockings still lovingly gloved her thighs, the straps of her garters hanging free. Reaching under the garter belt, he caught the panties and eased them down and dropped the pale, lacy scrap on the floor. Then, because she looked so damned hot, he hooked the garters back to her stockings as he leaned in, pressed his lips to the round curve of her ass.
She had the most amazing ass, he decided. Round, firm. She used to run in high school. Run, bike. She’d been the one of those brainiac athletic types. Judging by the long, sleek muscles, she was still into the active lifestyle.
Curving his hands over her ankles, he closed his eyes. He wanted to listen to every last shuddering sigh. Every catch of her breath as he touched her. As he tightened his hands just a little, her breathing hitched. When he stroked upward, that catch wasn’t there.
When he stood and stroked the tips of his fingers along her spine, a soft moan escaped her. And when he touched his lips to her nape, she whispered his name.
But then, as he rested his hand on her waist, eased it around to her belly and stroked up, she tensed, every muscle in her body going tight. Okay… Another thing to file away. He stroked his hand back down, determined not to do a damn thing that would ruin this. Back to her neck, her spine…she really seemed to like that.
And he noticed when he caught one wrist in his hand, dragged it up over her head, a soft cry escaped and she sagged, her free hand coming up to slam against the wall as though she needed to brace herself.
Blood roared in his ears. Hungry, demanding—a beast that demanded to be let free, but he didn’t listen. He just focused on her. Only her.
Sanity pushed its way in. Slowly. Surely. They needed to talk. Even if just for a minute. “Chaili, we need to…fuck…” Aw, hell. “That came out wrong. Damn straight, I need to fuck you, but I don’t have anything here.”
She tensed. Then relaxed. “Well…I’m on the pill. I know that doesn’t cover everything, but I’m clean. Nobody since my divorce and I’ve had blood work done since then.”
He pressed his head against her shoulder. “We’re stupid doing this, you know that, right?”
“Does that mean you…?”
He pressed his lips to her shoulder. “Nothing to worry about here. I’m clean, although you damn well shouldn’t trust that.”
“Marc, if I can’t trust you, who can I trust?”
She moved against him and those last threads of sanity snapped. Tightening his hold on her, he rasped against her ear, “Last chance, Chaili…”
“I think we passed that point already.”
If he stopped, she just might die. Chaili was certain of it. But she’d wait until she killed him first. Just having him kiss her had been a shocking surprise, but then he…
Whoa.
Chaili wasn’t much for being told what to do.
Unless it came to sex. She wouldn’t ever call herself a true sexual submissive, but she definitely preferred to have her lover take the dominant position, and while she wasn’t surprised that Marc was a little aggressive…this was blowing her mind.
This was something she had never guessed about him, hadn’t ever even thought about, well…other than in her fantasies, but those were her fantasies, right? She could think whatever she wanted there.
This wasn’t a fantasy.
This was really happening.
His hand tightened oh so slightly on her wrist and she shuddered.
Every inch of her hurt. Every inch of her ached. Every inch of her was tight with need and want and yearning.
When the raspy sound of his zipper sliced through the silence, she had to lock her knees just to keep upright. “I’m not waiting,” he muttered.
Hell…he better not. She’d been waiting her entire life, it seemed.
He kicked her ankles apart and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. Damn it, he was killing her. She tugged tightly against the restraining hold he had on her wrist, but he didn’t let go. That made her jerk harder and he squeezed tighter, stretched her hand higher, taking away some of her leverage as he leaned in. “Chaili…?”
“You should probably know that I’m thinking about the best way to kill you if you stop any damn thing you’re doing.”
“Anything, huh?” He stretched her hand higher, his thumb stroking in slow circles around her wrist.
Against her butt, she could feel him, the length of his cock, thick and hot, like a brand. Pushing back against him, she groaned. “Damn it, Marc…”
“Hey, I’m just doing what I was doing…in the name of self-defense.”
“Would you just fuck me?” she snarled.
And then she cried out as he caught her around the waist and lifted her. She felt him between her thighs, probing, pushing… Her head fell back against his shoulder and she cried out.
The room shifted sideways—no. Wait. That was just them—he’d moved. She felt the floor under her knees, felt him at her back and then she groaned as he pushed against her. As he slowly sank inside, deep, deeper, she shuddered and twisted her hips, gripping him with her inner muscles, shuddering as he stroked over every sensitive, aching nerve ending, hitting all those right spots…and a few she didn’t even know she had. Then he started to retreat and she clenched down in a desperate hope to keep him inside her. No, not yet…
“Aw, fuck,” he growled, surging back inside. Deeper. Harder.
Again. Again.
She moved back to meet him each time, twisting her hips, clasping him tight and milking him, desperate for the feel of him inside her.
“Stop it,” he growled, pressing the flat of his hand against the small of her back. “What’s your hurry?”
She couldn’t even think to understand the question, much less answer it.
Too long…Marc… Afraid of what she might let herself say if she said anything, she bit her lip, once more clenched down around him—every last nerve ending sizzling as his cock sliced through her pussy, each stroke going deeper, hotter…taking her deeper, hotter. And despite her determination not to talk, she found herself keening out his name.
“That’s it,” he muttered behind her. “Come for me, Chaili… Fuck, you’re beautiful…”
And for a little while, she even believed it again.
“Say you’ll stay the night.”
Nearly thirty minutes had passed and he’d moved only once, to shift around and sit with his back against the wall and pull her into his lap. She felt just about perfect there.
Everything was just about perfect. She was soft and warm in his arms, snuggling against him with her cheek on his shoulder and every now and then she’d make this soft, kittenish little sigh that had his heart twisting. And she was stroking her fingers across his chest. Lightly. But it was like she couldn’t stop touching him, and he really liked that.
He didn’t want to stop touching her, either.
He was rather certain this had been the best sexual experience of his life.
With Chaili.
He’d lost his mind a little bit there, grabbing her wrist that way, pushing her against the wall. And she’d responded like… His lids drooped, an unconscious smile curling his lips as he recalled just how she’d responded. Perfectly.
Yeah.
Everything was just about perfect.
But it was getting late, he was tired and if he wanted to make love to her again, he’d best go ahead and talk her into staying. And she hadn’t said anything. Turning his face into her hair, he said softly, “I want you to stay the night. Say you will.”
She sighed and stroked her hand down the front of his shirt. “Is that really a good idea?”
Tangling his fingers in her hair
, he tugged her head back, staring down into her eyes. “At this point, what can it hurt?”
“Hmmm. Well, put like that…”
Stroking his hand up the sleek length of her thigh, he said, “You should know I plan on getting the two of us in the shower. Then I plan on getting us in my bed where I can lay you down and take my time with you.” He cupped her in his hand and stroked his finger around her entrance, watched as she shuddered. “I never did get to taste you.”
“Hmmm.” Her lashes drooped. “That all sounds lovely…but…”
“But?” Fuck. What…
“Maybe I could take a shower by myself.” She darted a look at him, jerked one shoulder in a half shrug. “I told you. I’m…”
“Shy.” Laughing a little, he slid his hand out from under her skirt and eased her off his lap. Once he got to his feet, he helped her up. “Okay, you head on upstairs…my room is at the end of the hall, on the right. Bathroom is straight on through. You’ve got fifteen minutes and I’m not coming up until the time is up, because I’ve got a thing for naked women.”
Chapter Four
Chaili found a shirt hanging off the foot of the bed and grabbed it.
In the shower, she scrubbed off with his soap, washed her hair with his shampoo, and shuddered as she realized she’d leave here smelling of him in so many ways.
She was done in under eight minutes and that left her with too many minutes to dry her short hair and stare at her reflection.
At her scarred reflection.
She could just show him, she supposed.
But she didn’t see the point.
This wasn’t going to last once morning was over. Marc traveled all over the world and was in Chicago once in a blue moon. She didn’t see him often and over the past few years it was even less frequent than normal.
It was almost like he avoided Chicago anymore.
This was a once-in-a-lifetime chance to catch a dream and she was going to run with it, enjoy every second of it while it lasted. Closing her eyes, she started to button the shirt, hiding away the scars.
In a few more hours, she’d leave.
Like Cinderella, and the magic of this very strange night would end…and maybe she wouldn’t have her glass slipper but she could have the memories.
With that in mind, she squared her shoulders and stared at her reflection. She’d wanted to spend a night with him. Just talking. Maybe it was kind of lame. Yeah, it was. But…
“Stop it,” she whispered. She wanted a night. One brief, fun night, something she’d done on a whim and, damn, had she gotten her night. And more.
She even felt…whole, in some ways. Some part of her felt real again. She felt wanted—she hadn’t felt that way in years.
He took longer than fifteen minutes.
It took that long just to get his head on straight.
Of course, when he walked into his room and saw her standing at the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out over the lake, wearing one of his shirts, he had to stop and catch his breath.
“What is it about a woman wearing a guy’s shirt?”
She startled and turned around, stared at him. She looked puzzled and then glanced down, stared at the black dress shirt, shrugged. “Sorry. I wasn’t exactly planning on spending the night and I figured you didn’t keep pajamas on hand for guests.” She bit her lip, tugging at the collar. “I can use a T-shirt or something.”
He shook his head, staring at her. “I think I might have the shirt bronzed or something. I’ll never be able to wear it without thinking about how you looked in it.”
“Whatever,” she snorted, rolling her eyes before turning back to stare out over the lake. “You must like the water. I never realized you were that into the lake.”
“I’m not.” He came up behind her, stroked a hand down her spine, watched as she shivered. So fucking responsive…it was almost painfully erotic, just to watch how she reacted when he touched her. “I just like the privacy. I told the realtor to find me a quiet place, someplace well outside the city and this was one she showed me. When I saw the house…well, it was just mine.”
“Hmmm.”
Resting one hand on the base of her spine, he stroked, easing the shirt up. In the glass, he could see just the faintest outline of her face, watched as her lashes dipped. Mine…he thought. It was a rather dizzying surprise to look at her and realize he felt a strong, stunning possessiveness.
This was weird. Deeper than anything he’d felt. Different. He wanted to spend a hell of lot more time with Chaili than just one night.
Something he’d think about in the morning.
One of many things he needed to process.
Something he’d have to take his time on and think through, because Marc was damn good at screwing things up when he didn’t think them through.
“Come to bed,” he whispered against her ear.
“Aren’t you going to shower?”
Groaning, he dropped his head against her shoulder. “Damn. I knew I was forgetting something.”
Chaili chuckled, turning around and pressing her lips to his neck. “Well, the shower was your idea. I’m just fine with going to bed now.” She paused and then took a deep breath. “Marc…you smell like me. I kind of like it.”
He wrapped his arm around her, hauling her against him. “You’ve got my shirt on…” He buried his face against her neck and breathed in the faint scent of his own soap on her skin. “And I can smell my soap on you. It’s never been that fucking sexy on me. I swear, I could eat you alive.”
A shudder wracked her. “Ah, I’ve got no problem with that. Not one.”
Killing me, he thought. He kept his head buried against her neck for a minute, waited for the racing of his heart to stop.
The bed cradled her like a damned cloud and if she’d been lying on it at any other time, she just might have closed her eyes, sighed in sweet bliss. But just then, as Marc laid her down, tugged her to the edge, she was having a hard time doing much of anything but reaching for him.
He caught her wrists and pushed them back to the bed.
Groaning, she fisted her hands in the sheets—cool, silky sheets that felt as smooth as satin against her skin. He caught her hips and dragged her to the edge of the bed, her legs hanging over where he knelt between her thighs. “I think I’m going to have that taste of you now,” he rasped, draping her legs over his shoulders. “But I don’t want you coming yet.”
Staring at him through her lashes, she licked her lips—her mouth was so dry. Looking at him had a way of doing that to her, but now…? “I’m about to come just looking at you.”
“Don’t.” He closed one hand around her ankle, guiding her leg up until her heel was pressed against her ass.
As his dark head bent down, Chaili closed her eyes and cried out. Need was a painful whip, lashing against her. His tongue rasped against her clit, circled, teased…dipped lower.
He pushed inside and she could feel the climax rushing up. Swearing, she clutched at the sheets, arching off the bed. She stared at his bent head, but that didn’t help. Don’t come…I can’t…can’t come yet—
“You’re close to coming,” he whispered, lifting his head and watching her from under heavy-lidded lashes. “I don’t want you coming yet.”
“I won’t,” she panted. “Just don’t stop.”
Fuck, she was beautiful.
Face flushed, a sexy little snarl on her lips as she glared at him… It made him hotter than he thought was possible. “Hmmm…” Dipping his head, he stroked his tongue around her clit, teased the hard little bud with his teeth. At the same time, he pushed a finger inside her, screwing his wrist. “You sure of that?”
Her head fell back, exposing the elegant line of her throat as she shuddered, moaned. “Damn it. Yes. I’m sure…” And as she spoke, she twisted her hips and started to rock against him.
“Be still.” He rested one hand against her belly, watching her.
Her body tensed, but she stilled, her head still
hanging back. He could hear the ragged rhythm of her breathing. Fuck, he wanted to see her naked. Shifting around, he reached for the placket of buttons, but the second he did, she tensed, scrambling around and sitting up.
“No.” She hunched her shoulders in.
“Chaili…” He eased in, leaning in to kiss her.
She stilled, opening her mouth for him, but when he reached for the front of her shirt again, she twisted away. “I said no,” she snapped.
Narrowing his eyes, he said flatly, “I want you naked.”
He’d already noticed that while she was cocky as all get out about it, when he gave her an order…she followed it. But this time, she remained there, hunched, those proud shoulders slumped. “I said no, Marc.” She shook her head and squirmed away.
As she went to stand, he rose and caught her wrist, kept her from walking away.
“Okay.” Lifting her wrist to his mouth, he murmured against her skin, “I don’t get why, but okay.”
Her throat worked as she swallowed and in the depths of her eyes he saw a glimpse of something that made him want to scream. Made him want to break something. Tear something apart.
Stark, naked pain.
“I can’t take it off, Marc,” she said quietly. “Don’t try again, okay?”
Nodding, he pulled her against him. “Okay.” He wasn’t about to lie and say he understood, and one thing was damn clear…the next time they were together, he wasn’t going to back off quite so easily. And there was going to be a next time, if he had anything to say about it. And another. Another.
But for now…
Catching her hands, he lifted them to his shirt. “Take off mine, then,” he told her.
They said nothing else as she stripped away his shirt, although she left it hanging open as she undid his belt, unbuttoned his trousers. Then she went to push his shirt off his shoulders and her breath hitched in her throat. White teeth caught the swell of her lip as she reached up and touched the silver hoop he had through his right nipple. Her pupils spiked and she swayed closer.
“I’m still dressed,” he rasped, reaching up and fisting his hand in the hair at the nape of her neck.
Beautiful Scars Page 5