Solid Heart (Unseen Enemy Book 7)

by Marysol James

  “Good man.” Dallas gave him a grin. “So, conference room at eight a.m. on Monday. We’ll go through it all then.”

  “Good.” Griff grinned back. “And I’ll even photocopy all the meeting notes myself – my parting gift for Roxanna before I flee her domain once and for all.”

  **

  Mark watched Francine holding Frankie, watched her talking to him softly. The baby appeared to be listening, his blue eyes fixed on Francine’s. It was odd, but they did seem to have a connection of sorts, and it was beautiful to see.

  Emma came over now, and Francine handed the baby to his mother. Mark smiled at them, and Francine crossed the room to join him.

  “You almost ready to go?” he asked her.

  “I am.” She looked around. “It was a great party, huh? Great to see everyone looking so happy.”

  “It was, and it was.”

  “Yeah.”

  Slowly, letting her know what he was going to do, he kissed her. She responded fully, and he almost sighed with relief at her being so relaxed, so natural.

  “So,” he whispered against her lips. “My place or yours tonight, sugar?”

  “Yours.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The car ride to Mark’s house was quiet, but that was OK. It was an easy silence, a silence between people who had worked some things out, and who were comfortable with each other after it all. People who had found their way back to each other, through a dark mountain forest.

  As soon as they had their coats off in the house, Francine turned, tucked herself up against him. Tight, hot, close. Mark was surprised, but without even one second of thought, his arms went around her.

  Yet again, for about the thousandth time, he closed his eyes, and just felt her. When she was right there like that, all soft curves and sweet heat, she was all he thought about. His mind had no room for darkness, or worry, or anger. He forgot his hatred for Henri Delacroix, and he forgot Francine’s beaten, battered body. When he held Francine like this, he saw and felt nothing but her.

  All he knew was her.

  From her side, Francine was experiencing a new sensation while being held. For the first time since Henri had taken her, Mark’s body didn’t represent safety, or comfort, or protection. No, it felt different tonight. Dangerous and risky… but not in any way that was threatening or frightening. It felt pretty damn good, actually. Exciting. Tempting.

  The urge to explore him came to her now, the desire to rediscover his body. She ran her small hands along his chest, up his heavily-muscled shoulders, back down his rippling biceps, along the length of his corded forearms. God, the man was huge. All that primal, ferocious strength stunned her, all the more so because he kept a tight lid on it. This whole time, no matter how furious Mark must have felt, he’d never been anything but careful with her.

  She realized that she loved him for that.

  She did. She loved him.

  Francine moved under his shirt now, lifting it as she ran her hands up his back, loving the groove of muscle under her palms and fingers. He was very still, barely breathing, just letting her touch him. His own hands were on her hips, holding her lush curves, but not moving.

  Her body was heating up, loosening up, and she was shocked to find herself becoming aroused. She was breathing harder, faster; the area between her thighs turning liquid. Without any hesitation at all, she pulled his mouth down to hers. Kissed him, hard.

  Mark responded cautiously: his hands tightened on her body, but stayed in place. He returned her kisses, but didn’t stroke her lips with his tongue. He just waited, let her set the pace. Let her decide what she was ready for.

  Francine was ready for a lot, as it turned out. Her need to feel him rose fast, faster than she’d ever have been able to predict, and she squirmed to get closer to him. Impatient now, she unbuttoned the top few buttons on his dress shirt, needing to feel his warm skin under her mouth.

  Mark muffled a curse when she kissed his chest, ran her tongue down his throat. He closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, willed himself to stay in control here.

  It was hell.

  “Mark?”

  Oh, Christ… now she was saying his name in that voice. The one that made him lose his goddamn mind.

  “Yeah, babe?”

  “Can you touch me?”

  “Where?” He tried to sound calm, even as he thought, Dear sweet God, give me strength. “Where do you feel OK with me touching you?”

  She paused. “Actually... scratch that. I don't want you to touch me.”

  “No?” he said, fighting off his disappointment.

  "No. I want you to make love to me.”

  “Whoa.” His hands came up, and he stepped right on back, a look of sheer ‘what the fuck’ on his handsome face. “Say what now?”

  Francine giggled. It was damn rare to see bad-ass, ready-for-anything Mark Hayden genuinely freaked out, but she’d accomplished it.

  “Make love to me,” she repeated.

  “But… isn’t it too soon?”

  She shook her head, her blonde hair glowing softly in the lamp light. “No. I’m ready if you are.” She reached out, placed her palm on his heart. “Are you ready?”

  Mark placed his hand on top of hers, pressed down. “I am.”

  “You’re not angry?” she said softly. “You won’t look at my bruises and scars, and go back there?”

  “No.” His voice was calm, certain. “And you? When I touch you, you’ll know it’s me? You won’t go back there?”

  “No. I’ll stay here with you.”

  “You sure? You sure he isn’t between us?”

  “I am.” She paused, thought for a few seconds. “But you can't be behind me, OK? I don't want you on top of me that way.”

  He nodded, not at all surprised. “I understand.”

  “And one more thing.”

  “Name it.”

  “I don’t want anything between us.”

  “There won’t be. There isn’t.”

  “No. I mean…” Francine ran her hand down the front of his body, stopped at his hardening cock. “I don’t want anything between us… I don’t want anything here.”

  Stunned, he actually gasped aloud. “You – you don’t want…” He swallowed. “You don’t want to use anything?”

  “No.”

  Mark almost fell flat on his ass. In his whole life, he’d never had sex without a condom. Not once, not ever. He’d never even wanted to, if he were being honest, since it was one of those things that was a total given. Having sex meant using condoms, and no exceptions or discussions.

  But the thought of making love to Francine this way was… well. It was the hottest, most erotic thing that he’d ever thought about. He’d possess her completely if they did this; she’d be his. He’d have touched her inside, touched her in a way that he hadn’t yet. In a way that nobody had, not ever before.

  And in a way that nobody would ever again.

  Nobody between them. Nothing between them.

  All he felt was her. And he was going to feel all of her.

  “OK,” he said, barely recognizing his own voice.

  “OK?”

  “Yeah.” He managed a grin. “But I can’t promise how long I’ll last, babe. I’m so turned on right now just at the thought, it’s kinda killing me.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Oh, God, that throaty murmur was almost as arousing as having that hot little mouth on him. “Show me?”

  He took her mouth now, so soft, so gentle, that Francine almost wanted to cry. Mon Dieu, it never stopped amazing her how Mark's huge, lethal body could be so tender, so careful. He'd never hurt her, she knew. He'd die before he'd hurt her, and he'd kill to keep her from getting hurt ever again.

  Panting, Mark broke away, took her hand, and suddenly, they were in his bedroom. Mark kiss
ed her throat carefully, kissing away any memory of the pain that had been there, and then his hands moved to the zipper at the back of her dress.

  “Yes?” he whispered.

  “Yes.”

  The dress fell to the floor, and she kicked it to the side. She looked up at Mark, but he wasn't looking at her. He was gazing down at her body, just drinking in her barely-concealed curves, and his face was a fierce mixture of want and love. She smiled and touched his lips, and that was when he raised those incredible eyes to her face.

  “Now you,” she said, her hands already busy unbuttoning the rest of his dress shirt. “I want to see you, too.”

  “Oh, God,” he breathed as she shoved the shirt down and off his powerful shoulders, and sank to her knees in front of him. “Oh, babe.”

  From the floor, she grinned up at him, her hands on his belt buckle. “Yes?”

  “Yes. Oh, fuck. Yes.”

  She pulled his pants down, and there he stood in his boxers and socks. Normally, that wasn't a good look for any man, but Mark somehow pulled it off. He gave a surprised laugh when she rolled off his socks, making sure to give him a quick tickle as she did so.

  She stood again, stepped back in to his arms. He was more relaxed now, more convinced that she was OK, and he kissed her harder, deeper. She moaned, loving the sweet passion rising between them. It had been so long since she'd been with him like this... far too long. She craved this man, needed him, wanted him. She loved him.

  Her hands moved again, moved down. His breath caught, then started up again double-time when she touched his hardness. She stroked him, pressed her palm against him, teased him. When she finally lowered his boxers and released him, it felt just so damn good to be pressed up against her skin, Mark actually sighed. He needed more; he needed everything.

  He needed for nothing to be between them.

  “Sugar,” he murmured, his hands moving to undo her bra. “Yes?”

  “You know it's a 'yes', mon loup,” she whispered against his mouth. “It's all a 'yes'.”

  Muttering a curse, muttering a prayer that he lasted, he unsnapped her bra, let it fall to the floor next to the clothing already scattered around there. His large hands slid down her body, slid under her underwear, kept right on going. The silky material just slid off her legs perfectly, as quick and easy as water gliding down her luscious curves, and her panties joined the pile on the floor.

  Francine pulled away, just a bit, and Mark stared down at her, confused, maybe a bit worried. But then she smiled, and stepped back. She sat on the edge of the bed, and then lay down, holding his eyes the whole time. She extended her hand to him, and she was just beautiful in this moment. So damn vulnerable; so damn strong.

  “Come here, Mark,” she said, her voice soft. “Come to me.”

  He came right away, moved to lie down beside her. But she didn't want that, didn't want him even one inch farther away from her than he had to be.

  “No,” she said, tugging at his shoulders. “On top of me. Please.”

  He hesitated. “You sure? Maybe you want to be on top? Be in control?”

  “No. I need you to make me feel safe, Mark.”

  “And you'll feel safe with me covering you?” he asked quietly.

  “Yes.” She gazed up at him, loving him in his tenderness. “You'll be between me and the world. Keeping it away from me, just a little bit longer.”

  He was surprised when emotion welled up in him, so strong and overwhelming, it created a lump in his throat. She'd just been through so much, and here she was... naked and warm and under him. Safe, and whole, and so damn amazing. If this woman wanted and needed his body between her and the world out there, then he'd give it to her. He'd do and give Francine anything, anything that she asked for, and he didn't give a damn what it was. If she asked, it was hers.

  Too emotional to speak quite yet, Mark nodded, pulled himself up and over her smaller body. She wrapped herself all around him – her arms, her legs – and he groaned as her sex rubbed against his cock. Her eyes sparked at the sound, and she rubbed herself again, slowly, deliberately, watching his face the whole time.

  “Tease,” he managed to choke out.

  “Hmmmm,” she purred. “Maybe a little.”

  “A little?”

  “Yeah, just a little.” She ran her hands down his broad back, stopped at his ass. She rolled her hips again, pressing him tighter against her body as she did. Mark shut his eyes, groaned again, and she laughed. “Do you mind?”

  His eyes opened and she saw that glitter in their green depths. The one that meant that he was seconds away from taking over. The one that meant that he was seconds away from just taking her.

  The one that she fucking loved.

  “I don't mind, babe,” he growled, and her whole body responded to that sound.

  Oh, yeah: the glitter, and now the growl. Things were heating up for sure.

  “You ready for me to touch you?” he grated out. “Touch you for real?”

  “Yes.” She arched, her nipples pushing in to his chest, loving the friction of muscle and hair. “Please, Mark... touch me.”

  His hand slipped between their bodies, brushed her upper thighs. To her surprise, she stiffened and slammed her eyes shut. He stopped right away, cupped her face in his hands.

  “Where are you, babe?” he asked, keeping his voice low. “Come on back to me, OK?”

  Francine sucked in air, fighting down the sudden wave of panic. She'd just been thrown back to that lonely cabin in the mountains, thrown back in to that bathtub. It had only been for a few seconds, but it had been a total immersion of memory. She'd felt the water on her skin; she'd smelled the perfume from the bubbles; she'd heard his harsh breathing as he kissed her. And yes, she'd felt his hands skimming her thighs, aiming for her pussy.

  She took a deep breath and the wave broke, passed over her head. And then she was back where she was, back with Mark, back in his embrace. She was safe, and she was loved. She opened her eyes again, stared up at Mark's worried face.

  “Francine?” Mark was totally still, hoping with everything that he had that she was coming back to him. “You with me, babe?”

  “Yes.” It was a shaky answer, a bit frightened, but her eyes were clear and calm. “I'm with you.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened?” he said, stroking her cheek.

  “I – I went back there. Just for a second.”

  His jaw clenched. “You want to stop?”

  “No.” Her voice was stronger now, more certain. “I want to make love with you.”

  “Oh, God.” He stared at her. “I don't know...”

  “I do,” she said, and she sounded like herself again. “I know, handsome.”

  He grinned at her favorite teasing pet name for him, then sobered up. “You promise me you're alright?”

  “I do.”

  He was still hesitating, though, and she knew that she had to take the lead here. So she did just that: she reached for his hand, rested it on her thigh. She lifted her head from the bed, gave him the sweetest, hottest kiss that he'd ever known.

  “Touch me,” she said against his mouth, guiding his hand to her pussy. “It's OK.”

  His fingers slid to her warmth, and he groaned. God, she was just so soft. So perfect. And she was all his.

  Francine kept her hand on Mark's, moved his fingers over her lower lips, again and again. She didn't even notice when her thighs fell apart, didn't notice when her back arched up off the bed. She spread her legs wider, her breath coming faster now. And when she directed him to her clit, she shut her eyes in anticipation of what was coming.

  Mark loved every second of what was happening. She was so wet, so turned on... and she was almost there. He took over now, circling her little button, stroking her soaked sex, pushing inside just a bit, then withdrawing. Every time he slipped in to her honeyed channel, she moaned and shuddered.

  Oh, hell, yeah. She was almost there.

&n
bsp; So carefully, watching her face the whole time, he slid one finger inside. She gave a small cry of pleasure, pushed her head in to the mattress. Encouraged, he moved deeper in to her snug heat. She bit her lip, arched once more, offering him her breasts. Right away, he lowered his dark head, and took a rosy nipple between his lips. Francine cried out again, held him to her chest, pushing him in harder and tighter.

  “Mark!” she said, and he heard that glimmering edge in her voice. “Mark!”

  He pushed deeper inside, moved to the other nipple. Francine gasped, and her eyes flew open.

  “Now,” she panted, pulling him back up her body. “Please... now.”

  “OK, sugar,” he said, settling between her spread thighs. “You tell me if we need to stop.”

  Francine almost laughed at the mere notion of stopping. Stopping this was like trying to stop the ocean. It was too big, too strong, too intense. It was a damn force of nature, and she was just being carried along on it.

  Mark rested his hands on either side of her head, moved above her trembling curves, paused to kiss her throat once more. The bruising was faint but still visible, a sickly, washed-out yellow. He lingered over every discoloration, licking and stroking, feeling like he was sucking all that hurt and fear out through his mouth. It was stupid, and he knew it – but he still felt that way.

  Finally, he gave in to her pleas. He took his cock in his hand, rubbed the tip at her entrance. She murmured yes, over and over, and he struggled to slide in just one inch. Then one more. One more. Watching her eyes and whispering her name the whole time, he moved in to her sweet pussy so slowly, so gently. And when he was fully sheated, her wet heat clutching at him and driving him insane, she pulled him closer, pulled him tighter. Breathed his name. Told him that she loved him.

  Mark froze, wondering if he'd just heard her right. Then she smiled up at him, so fucking beautiful, and she said it again:

  “I love you, Mark.”

  “Babe.” His heart was so full, he legitimately thought it was going to burst. “I love you, too.”

  “I know.” God, her smile was lighting up the whole room now. “Now... move.”