Smokin' Hot

by Lynn LaFleur

  Digging her fingernails into Marcus’s chest, she hung her head while little pulses continued to burst. She kept her elbows locked, not wanting to collapse until Marcus came, too.

  A few more thrusts and his body jerked beneath hers. He grabbed her ass, arched his hips, and released a long groan.

  Knowing he’d reached a climax drained the last of the strength from Rayna’s arms. She stopped trying to hold herself upright and melted on top of Marcus’s chest.

  For a few moments, she only heard her shattered breathing and his heart pounding beneath her ear. When both of those had calmed, she could hear drops pattering against the window. “It’s raining.”

  “Has been for about five minutes.” His hands made a slow sweep up and down her back. “Guess you were too busy having orgasms to notice.”

  She smiled at the humor in his voice. “Guess so.” Her smiled faded as quickly as it had formed. “It’s … been a long time for me.”

  “Me, too,” he said softly.

  “No secret girlfriend stashed somewhere?”

  “No girlfriend. You?”

  “No, I don’t have a girlfriend either.”

  She giggled when he swatted her butt. She’d asked the question partly in jest, but mostly because she wanted to know if he had someone special in his life. “Has there been a girlfriend?”

  He swept his hands up and down her back again. “No.”

  “Lover?”

  “No.”

  She tilted her head so she could see his face. “Not ever?”

  “No.”

  She couldn’t believe a man as sexy and virile as Marcus would’ve stayed celibate for five years. “You haven’t been with a woman since we separated?”

  He touched her hair, let his fingers sift through the strands. “You’re the only lover I’ve ever had, Rayna.” He tunneled beneath her hair and cradled her nape. “Can you say the same thing?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “There’s never been a man in my bed but you.”

  “Why not?”

  “I never … met anyone I wanted to share that kind of intimacy with.”

  He didn’t ask anything else. Rayna wished more light shone into the room so she could see his expression clearly. She touched his cheek, ran her fingers over his soft lips. He held her wrist when her fingers glided across his mouth, keeping her hand in place. He kissed each fingertip and the center of her palm.

  Tenderness welled up inside her, mixed with a reawakening of desire. She leaned forward until her lips met his.

  Marcus flipped their positions so he lay on top of her. His cock, still inside her, began to harden again. He didn’t deepen their kiss, but left it soft and gentle and loving.

  Tears filled Rayna’s eyes at the show of affection. She kept her eyes closed, yet some drops escaped to run down her temples. She reached for Marcus’s hands, intertwined their fingers when he began to slowly pump. He didn’t increase the speed of his thrusts, but kept them slow and easy.

  Another climax overtook her … not a big bang like the others of this evening, but a gentle wash of sensation. Marcus groaned, softer this time, as if he’d experienced the same kind of gradual climb to the heavens.

  She didn’t know how long they lay entwined together before Marcus finally moved to his back and gathered her close to his side. Rayna slipped one leg between his and rested her hand over the name of their son. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and let the sound of the rain lull her to sleep.

  9

  Marcus lifted the lid on the heavy skillet and stirred the fried potatoes. He’d heard the shower start a few minutes ago, which meant Rayna would soon wander into the kitchen in search of food. She’d always been ravenous first thing in the morning, especially after a night of sex.

  They’d definitely had a night of sex.

  His feelings were all jumbled this morning. What he and Rayna shared last night had been wicked hot, yet tender. It had felt so right to hold her, taste her, fuck her. Yet he knew it never should have happened. He’d kissed her only to stop her crying, not as a prelude to lovemaking. As soon as Grace got out of the hospital and settled in her home again, Rayna would leave. Last night’s explosive sex would soon be another memory for him, just like all the other memories of his time with Rayna.

  He flipped the ham slices in the other skillet before he removed a carton of eggs from the refrigerator. Rayna had sometimes wanted her eggs over easy, sometimes scrambled. He’d have to wait and ask her which type she preferred today.

  “Something smells wonderful.”

  Marcus looked up and almost swallowed his tongue. Rayna walked toward him wearing one of his green T-shirts. From the gentle sway of her breasts, she obviously hadn’t bothered putting on her bra after her shower. She’d pulled her hair into a ponytail high on the back of her head. With her face free of makeup, she looked much younger than thirty-two.

  “I’m starving,” she said as she slipped onto one of the chairs at the island.

  “Me, too. Neither of us ate supper last night.”

  “No, we didn’t.”

  She didn’t say it, but he could tell by the slumberous look in her eyes that she remembered exactly why they hadn’t bothered with food last night. They’d been too busy satisfying another type of hunger.

  Bracing on her forearms, she leaned forward to peer into both skillets. “Ham and fried potatoes?”

  Her position pushed up her breasts. The loose fit of his shirt made the neckline gap, letting him see the top of her breasts and a hint of cleavage. He had to swallow before he could speak again. “Yep. Bread is ready for the toaster and I’ll start the eggs as soon as the ham is done. Over easy or scrambled?”

  “Over easy, please.”

  “You got it.” He hitched a thumb toward the refrigerator. “There’s OJ and grape juice in the fridge. I have one of those one-cup-at-a-time coffeemakers, so I can make you a cup of coffee in a couple of minutes.”

  “I’ll have juice for now.”

  He’d already set the two spots at the island with plates, silverware, and juice glasses. He watched her walk to the refrigerator. His T-shirt hit right below her ass, giving him an unobstructed view of her toned, shapely legs. He wondered if she still walked every day.

  She looked at him over her shoulder after she’d opened the refrigerator. “Do you want juice?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Which kind?”

  “Whichever kind you’re having.”

  She brought the bottle of grape juice to the island. After pouring some into each glass, she replaced it in the refrigerator and returned to her stool. He continued his cooking, even though he sensed she had many questions she wanted to ask. Perhaps she didn’t know if she should—or had the right to—ask him anything.

  Marcus transferred the potatoes and ham to a platter, pressed the button on the toaster to lower the bread, and began to cook the eggs. He hadn’t bothered to put on a shirt with his jeans and could feel her watching him. Lifting his gaze a moment, he caught her staring at his tattoo. Unsure if she wanted to talk about their son yet, he decided to wait for her to start that conversation.

  She picked up her fork, speared a piece of potato from the platter. Her eyes rolled in pleasure as she chewed. “You haven’t lost your talent in the kitchen.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I cook on the weekends, but I usually make do with a sandwich or soup or takeout during the week. I’m usually too exhausted after work to consider cooking.”

  “Sounds like you have a stressful job.”

  “At times. It’s more the commute that gets to me than the job. I wish I lived closer to the hospital, but there’s nothing in that area I can afford. All the houses and apartments in that part of town start in the high six-figure range. I make a good salary, but not that good.”

  “Do you have a house or apartment?”

  “An apartment. It’s a little smaller than I’d like, but nice. If I look out my bathroom window in a certain spot, I can see a litt
le sliver of the bay.” She held up her thumb and forefinger, less than an inch apart. “About that much.”

  He chuckled when she grinned. Picking up her plate, he placed two perfectly browned eggs on it. The toast popped up behind him. After quickly buttering it, he laid a slice on each of their plates before dishing up his eggs. Grabbing his cup of cooling coffee, he sat on the chair next to her. “Dig in.”

  “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

  He chuckled again when Rayna attacked her food. She’d taken two bites of everything before she spoke once more. “This is amazing, Marcus.”

  “You’re just hungry.”

  “I am, but it’s still amazing.” She took a sip of her juice, her gaze focused on the window over the sink. “I’ve missed your cooking.”

  He’d waited for her to talk about something personal and now she had. No mention of Derek yet, but he wondered if her statement might be a start to complete honesty between them. “I’ve missed cooking for more than just me.”

  “You don’t ever … entertain?”

  “Rayna, I told you last night I haven’t been with any other women.”

  She looked back at him. “I know you said that, but that doesn’t mean you haven’t dated. Right?”

  He scooped up a dollop of egg on his toast. “Yeah, I’ve dated.”

  “But no lovers?”

  “No.” He gazed directly into her eyes. “You were never attracted to any of the guys you met in San Francisco?”

  “I was attracted to some of them, enough to go on more than one date. But I didn’t want to sleep with any of them.”

  “Why not?”

  She shrugged one shoulder as she speared another bite of ham. “No chemistry, I guess.”

  “That was never a problem for us.”

  “No, it wasn’t. I fell for you the first time I saw you.”

  “So why did you keep saying no to anything but kissing?”

  Her mouth dropped open. “I was fourteen!”

  “I was fifteen with raging hormones. I had to walk around with a book in front of my fly whenever you were around.”

  He laughed when she swatted his arm. “Typical male, always thinking with his cock.”

  “Hey, at fifteen a guy’s brain is nowhere near his head. At least not the one on his shoulders.”

  Rayna shook her head before she began to eat again. Marcus polished off everything on his plate and went back for seconds of the potatoes and ham. He saw her studying the walls, cabinets, island. “Something wrong?”

  “When I got here last night, my first thought was that you need to paint your house.” Her gaze swept the room again, came back to him. “The inside is beautiful.”

  “Thanks. I’m still working on it. There are two small bedrooms at the back of the house. And I do mean small. I’m going to add on to both of them. Once that’s done, I’ll paint the outside.”

  “I love your master bath. I could’ve stood under those six shower heads all day.”

  He wished he’d seen her in his shower with the water running down her skin. He’d done that many times throughout their relationship, which had usually ended up with Rayna plastered against the shower wall while he fucked her.

  Pushing those memories from his mind, he drained his coffee cup. “I added on to it and the master bedroom. This house was built in the sixties, so didn’t have large closets like today’s houses do. I added a walk-in closet when I remodeled the bedroom. I’ll do that with the other two bedrooms, too.”

  “So you plan to stay in Lanville?”

  Marcus nodded. “It’s a great place to live. I’ll have my house finished soon, I have a job I enjoy, and lots of friends. I see no reason to go anywhere else.”

  He watched her push the last piece of potato around on her plate. “You like it in San Francisco?”

  She shrugged. “I wish some things could be different, but I imagine most people can say that about where they live.”

  Not looking at him, she laid her fork on her plate, clasped her hands together in her lap. Marcus could tell by the way she straightened her shoulders that she had something on her mind. He remained silent and waited for her to speak.

  “Is he here?” she asked, her voice soft and full of pain.

  Again he waited, this time for her to look at him, but she didn’t. “Yes, he’s here. I had him moved the first anniversary of his death. That’s also when I got the tattoo.”

  Her chest rose and fell with a deep breath before she finally looked at him. Tears glistened in her eyes. “You must think I’m the worst mother ever for not asking about him as soon as I saw you.”

  For years, he’d thought her a horrible mother for never visiting Derek’s grave after the funeral. She’d left Texas barely a month after their son’s death and had never returned. She hadn’t taken any pictures of Derek, any mementoes of his short five years on Earth. He’d never been able to understand how a mother could completely forget her child.

  “Yeah, I thought that at first. You didn’t even take any pictures of him when you left, Rayna.”

  “I had pictures on my cell phone and digital camera. I still have those. I don’t look at them every day because …” A tear slipped from her eye to flow down her cheek. “It hurts too much. But a day doesn’t go by that I don’t think of him and miss him.”

  Marcus had to hold her, to offer her whatever comfort he could. Slipping from his stool, he stood between her legs and wrapped his arms around her. She laid her cheek against the name of their son. Tears continued to seep from her eyes, wetting his chest.

  He didn’t know how much time passed before he realized she no longer cried. Her arms remained around his waist, her cheek pressed to his chest, but didn’t feel her tears on his skin. He did feel her soft breasts against his stomach. Her warm breath ruffled his chest hair.

  Marcus cradled her nape with one hand, let his other hand slide down her back. He burrowed beneath the hem of his T-shirt to find nothing but bare skin. Not only had Rayna failed to put on her bra, she hadn’t bothered with panties either.

  She tilted her head back, parted her lips in silent invitation. He should resist. Making love with Rayna again would accomplish nothing other than a few minutes of pleasure.

  His cell phone rang from across the kitchen where he’d left it. He didn’t know anyone who would call him at seven in the morning, unless it was someone from work. He gave her nape a gentle squeeze before he released her. “I’d better get that.”

  The disappointment on her face almost made him change his mind. She released him and straightened in her chair. “Sure.”

  Griff’s number appeared on the screen. Marcus pressed the button to accept the call. “Mornin’, Griff.”

  “Hey, Marcus, sorry to call so early. Rye came down with some kind of stomach bug. He was sick most of the night. Any chance you could take over his appointments today?”

  “No problem.”

  “Thanks. Normally Dax and I would divide them up, but there are so many because of the fire damage—”

  “Say no more. I just finished breakfast. I’ll get dressed and meet you at the office in about half an hour.”

  “See you then.”

  He ended the call and turned to face Rayna. He saw her carrying their dishes toward the sink. “I’ll clean up for you,” she said, setting their plates on the counter.

  “You don’t have to do that, Rayna.”

  “I don’t mind.” She smiled at him over her shoulder. “I know you have to go. It won’t take me long to do the dishes.”

  The tip of her nose remained red from her recent crying. He used to tease her about being related to Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.

  He wouldn’t tease her today.

  He walked over to her and lifted her chin. “I’m sorry we didn’t get more time to talk.”

  “I can come back tonight. If you want.”

  Her eyes told him she very much wanted to come back and talk. Perhaps that would be a good idea. Maybe they could
finally settle everything between them. “On one condition.”

  Worry filled her eyes. “Condition?”

  “Yeah. Will you make that teriyaki pork that I like so much?”

  The worry disappeared, to be replaced by joy. “I can do that.”

  “I’ll get you a house key. I have an extra one in my bedroom. Come back whenever you want to. I usually get home between five-thirty and six.”

  “And you like to shower before you eat. So I’ll figure supper for six-thirty.”

  Marcus smiled. “Perfect.”

  Rayna peeked around the edge of the door, not wanting to bother her grandmother if she slept. She needn’t have worried. Nana sat up in bed, her eyes bright, her cheeks rosy. The picture of good health.

  “Hi,” she said, entering the room.

  Nana’s face lit up with a smile. “Hi.”

  Rayna sat in the chair next to the bed. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you last night. I hope you didn’t worry about me.”

  “I didn’t worry at all. I knew Marcus would take care of you.” She arched one white eyebrow. “He did take care of you, right?”

  He certainly did. Not willing to tell her grandmother about the incredible lovemaking she’d shared with Marcus, she quickly changed the subject. “I met Rye Coleman yesterday afternoon at your house. He said Coleman Construction will start on the repairs Friday. It’ll take two to three weeks. He suggested all the flying dust wouldn’t be good for you, so you can’t move back in until the repairs are finished.”

  “That’s fine. My friend Bella Olinghouse offered me one of her guest rooms for as long as I need it. Mattie, too. Bella probably has ten extra bedrooms, so there’s plenty of space for us. You, too, if you want to stay there instead of at The Inn.” She tilted her head and a sly look filled her eyes. “Or are you planning on staying with someone else?”

  “I can’t stay here for three weeks, Nana,” Rayna said, ignoring her grandmother’s question. “I thought about staying until your house repairs are done because I figured you’d move into my room at the B-and-B. Now that I know you can stay with a friend, I’ll go back home.”

  “A friend isn’t family, Rayna.” She took one of Rayna’s hands in both of hers. “I lost my daughter. I lost my sister and brother. You’re the only family I have left. Please don’t go yet.”