Coming Back To You

by Lynne, Donya

  Warmth filled her face, and she bit her lip, fighting an embarrassed smile. “How did you…?”

  “Lisa sent me the link.” He scrolled down.

  She was going to have kill Lisa later.

  He was reading one of the entries she’d written about him. The one Jan had asked her to write detailing what she liked and didn’t like about Mark.

  “It says here you only didn’t like one thing about me.” He rubbed his palm over his stubbly chin.

  “That’s right.” As hard as she’d thought, only one thing had come to mind for Mark’s list of cons. In her mind, he’d possessed a lot more pros.

  He pointed and read aloud. “That he left me.” He turned and looked at her. “That I left you? That’s the only thing you didn’t like about me? Really?”

  She giggled and ducked her head. “Really. That’s it.”

  “I don’t snore?”

  Her eyes met his again. “Maybe a little.”

  “And that’s okay?”

  She nodded and snuggled a little more against him. “Yes, as long as you’re snoring next to me.”

  He closed his laptop and set it on the coffee table before pulling her into his lap. “I think I can manage that from now on.” He rubbed his palms up and down her legs. “And now that I’m back? What about now? Is there anything you don’t like about me now?”

  She laid her cheek against the top of his chest. “That you waited so long to return.”

  “Well, there’s nothing I can do about that, but I can try to make up for it.”

  “I’d like that.” She traced the lines of his tattoo. “You never told me what this means.”

  He glanced down. “What? My tattoo?”

  “Yes. Does it have a special meaning?”

  “It does.” He placed his hand over hers so that her palm flattened against the ink.

  Once again, she worried at its significance. “Did you lose someone close to you?”

  When her gaze met his, he blinked slowly and a tender smile touched his face. “I did.”

  “I’m sorry.” She let her gaze fall. “I didn’t mean—”

  “Ssshh.” He placed his fingers over her mouth. “It’s okay. I found her again.” He dropped his hand to hers. “My tattoo is your name. The glyphs stand for karma.”

  She looked at them again, more closely. He’d tattooed her name on his body? “When? When did you do this?”

  “About a month-and-a-half after I returned to Chicago last year.”

  “Mark…” Words failed her. Yet again, he had done something she hadn’t expected.

  * * *

  Karma’s reaction was exactly what he’d expected. Her mouth fell open, her wondrous eyes searching his.

  “It was my way of reminding myself of you every day. Of remembering the promise I made on my way back to Chicago.”

  “What promise?”

  He let go of her hand and brushed back her tangled hair. “Karma, leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I almost turned around a dozen times before I even reached Lafayette. I couldn’t help thinking I was leaving the best part of myself behind. You. But I was so messed up. You know I was.” He gestured toward his laptop. “You wrote about it on your blog. I couldn’t get out of my own way long enough to see what was right in front me.” He paused and caressed her face. “So I made a deal with the universe. I agreed to return to Chicago and let the universe decide. If I was meant to be with you, the universe would bring you back to me.”

  Her eyes glistened, and she tilted her head to one side. “You could have just called me.”

  He blew out a puff of air. “Do you know how many times I typed you a text only to delete it. I almost called you so many times.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “Because that’s not how it was supposed to work. I’d given up control. I had to be patient and become the man I needed to be to deserve you. Besides, I thought you’d already moved on.”

  She exhaled and shook her head. “And now you know I didn’t.”

  “Now I know you didn’t. And neither did I.”

  She sighed and bowed her head. “Since we’re being so honest, I might as well admit that I watched you leave.”

  “When? My last day?”

  “Yes.”

  “How? You weren’t there that day. You’d called in sick.”

  She lifted her face, her cheeks pink. She bit her lip. “I was in the parking lot across the street. I saw you get in your car. I was sitting there crying when you texted me.”

  “Oh, Karma.” He pulled her against him and kissed her temple. “If you hadn’t replied, I would have come here looking for you. If I’d done that, I don’t think I could have left.”

  “And I almost didn’t reply. I almost raced home to meet you here.”

  He grinned and slowly shook his head. “What a mess we made of things. We both went to such extremes to chase the other away.” He caressed her cheek. “And it almost worked. We almost lost one another. But here we are.”

  “Together again.”

  “Yes. And being more honest with one another than we’ve ever been.”

  “Finally.” She snuggled closer and looped her arms around his waist.

  He chuckled and kissed her hair. “Just shows that when something’s meant to be, nothing can get in the way.”

  She raised her head, and her gaze searched his. “And we’re meant to be?”

  For a heartbeat, he lost himself in her eyes. “I hope so, because that’s the only way I’ll have it. I’m not leaving you again, Karma. From now on, where you go, I go.”

  Chapter 33

  Thanksgiving

  Except for a few hours when Mark borrowed her car and made a trip to his apartment for a duffel of clean clothes and made a grocery run, she and Mark spent the next two days tucked away in Karma’s apartment, making love, making plans, ignoring phone calls, and getting reacquainted with one another.

  Thursday morning, Karma woke early and hopped in the shower as Mark continued sleeping. She had a batch of truffles and homemade stuffing to make today for Thanksgiving dinner at her parents’. Hopefully, these truffles would turn out better than her previous two attempts.

  She prepped all the ingredients for both dishes before starting in on the truffles, then crossed her fingers as she put the cream on to boil.

  A couple of minutes later, Mark strolled into the kitchen wearing boxers and a T-shirt, his hair damp. He smelled like Irish Spring and aftershave.

  “Good morning.” He cozied up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and planted a full-lipped kiss on her cheek. “Mmm, truffles for breakfast, but I’d rather have you.”

  She giggled as he nibbled her neck. “These are for Thanksgiving dinner. I promised I’d make truffles. I just hope they turn out this time.”

  He stepped out from behind her and checked the cream. “They will. I can feel it.”

  “Is it ready?” She deferred to Mark’s expertise. The man was a veritable genius in the kitchen. She’d sampled the proof more than once in the four months they’d been together.

  “Almost. A few more seconds.”

  She scooted the bowl of chopped chocolate toward the stove and grabbed the sieve.

  “Okay, that’s good.” Mark shut off the cream then took it off the burner and let it rest several seconds then gestured for her to pick up the pan.

  “You want me to pour it?” She’d hoped he would. That was the only way she would learn.

  “Sure. This way you get a feel for it.”

  She picked up the pan and held it suspended over the chocolate as Mark eased behind her again, one hand around her waist, the other resting on her arm.

  “Slowly,” he said. “Pour the cream in slowly.” His hand skimmed up to her shoulder and brushed aside her hair. His lips closed on the side of her neck.

  How the hell did he expect her to concentrate on pouring cream when he was doing that?

  Once the cream was in the bowl, she set a
side the sieve and picked up the whisk.

  Mark’s hands found her breasts. “Take your time. Don’t rush it. Let the cream seduce the chocolate into submission.” His deep, seductive voice stroked her like a feather as she slowly stirred the cream and chocolate together to the same rhythm with which his hands squeezed and released her breasts in sultry circles, over and over. “Let the cream gently make love to the chocolate so they become one…until they’re inseparable.” He pressed his erection against her backside and released her breasts, only to wrap his arms around her torso.

  Little by little, as he ground himself against her in time with her stirring, the nibs of chocolate melted into the cream until she had a smooth, creamy bowl of ganache.

  She wasn’t sure how much longer she could maintain control. When Mark got this way, she was practically candle wax under a hot flame.

  “Is that what we are?” she whispered, picking up the coffee and pouring it into the ganache.

  “What? Inseparable?” He kissed her shoulder.

  She added the vanilla and whisked it in. “Yes.”

  He took the whisk, tapped it on the side of the bowl, and set it on the counter before turning her around. “Yes. That’s what we are. Like ganache, you and I are better together than we are apart.” He inched closer, his gaze burning her from the inside out. “Now, what do you say we explore all that togetherness while we’re waiting for the ganache to set?”

  She’d barely had a chance to nod when his lips seared hers as he lifted her, spun her around, and slammed her back against the refrigerator as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

  The jars in the door rattled as he swallowed her breath.

  For two days, Mark had been gentle but passionate, loving her body, kissing her mind, cherishing her. Now it was as if he’d only been a dam with a tiny leak, and the leak had finally burst to let the water gush through. He was all over her. In her, on her, surrounding her. God, the overwhelming assault was like nothing she’d ever experienced. He was practically consuming her.

  His hands gripped the bottoms of her thighs, and he hiked her against him, banging her against the refrigerator again. A box of crackers she’d set on top tumbled off the edge and bounced across the floor.

  Jesus! Karma gasped as he broke the kiss and latched onto her neck with a guttural growl.

  The refrigerator shook again as he thrust against her, his erection grinding between her legs as if two layers of flannel didn’t separate them.

  Every breath was a moan. Every movement a stroke of pleasure.

  And then he lifted her away from the refrigerator, carried her to the bedroom, and tossed her onto the bed before crashing down over her.

  They wrestled and rolled, peeling away their clothes in a frantic, possessive battle.

  His hand wrapped around the back of her neck. A split second later, he fisted her hair and yanked back her head before frisking her neck with his teeth.

  Yes! He’d never pulled her hair. Not like this. The memory of their first true night together—when they’d played Truth or Dare and he’d told her he loved when a woman pulled his hair—flashed into her mind. This was what he’d meant. This unabashed feeling of wanton lust. No wonder he liked it so much.

  He rolled with her and sat up, still tugging viciously, directing her head where he wanted it, until his mouth devoured hers again in a rush of fire.

  Theirs was a battle of passion. Two bodies entwined in a war of mutual dominance, seeking only pleasure. His hunger stoked her own. Unable to stop herself, she clasped her arms around his shoulders, dug her fingers into his hair, and grasped two healthy handfuls. As she held on for all she was worth, he growled, and his hold intensified.

  “You’re mine now.” He tossed her to the side, reached into the drawer for a condom, hastily rolled it on, then flipped her to her stomach.

  She slapped one hand against the headboard, breathless, moaning, needing him inside her. A year away from him seemed to be culminating in this one electrifying moment, even though they’d already spent two days enjoying each other.

  The front of his body crashed down over the back of hers, and he split her open with his knees. This was feral sex. Raw and basic. Karma’s entire body shuddered in anticipation.

  His hot breath washed over the back of her neck as he shoved her hair aside and laved her nape. Then she felt his cock nudge between her legs, and then…

  She gasped as he penetrated her in one swift stroke. Hard.

  This was fucking. This was the against-the-conference-room-wall office sex they’d had two summers ago times fifty.

  The bed rocked and banged the wall, providing an erotic beat to his rhythmic thrusts. His fists planted on either side of her torso as he lifted and pounded harder.

  Within seconds, Karma shrieked as she came, the relentless impact with her G-spot too much to hold back.

  He raised to his knees and gripped her hips, lifting her rump higher as she pressed her cheek against the mattress.

  Oh God, she was going to come again. So fast. So soon after the first.

  Gasping for air, unable to comprehend the profound attack on her senses, her body seized again, breaking into violent tremors as he continued to drive into her. It was as if he was determined to remind her who she belonged to, how much pleasure he could give her, and how strong their chemistry was.

  If there had been any doubt before, there was none now.

  His hand smacked her right cheek, and she sucked in her breath. He’d never spanked her.

  “Again!” She could barely speak through her urgent panting.

  His hand whacked her ass a second time, and the pleasure that rippled through her core sparked a third orgasm to life.

  “AGAIN!” She needed more. Her third orgasm needed to be set free.

  His hand landed a third time, harder than the previous two, and the sound of flesh slapping flesh was as erotic as the act itself.

  “Fuck, Karma!” Mark grunted. Obviously, he could feel how close she was to another orgasm so close on the heels of the first two.

  She gripped the headboard, arching her back to intensify the contact with her pleasure zone. Shit, but this was dirty sex. The kind that porn stars had on camera, hot and sweaty and all lust. And she fucking loved it. For too long she’d had saltine sex with Brad. This was gourmet-crackers-with-caviar-and-foie gras sex, just without the refinement. There was nothing refined about the way Mark drilled her like a relentless battering ram. His gritty urgency and slaps to her ass blew her mind in such a welcome way.

  The pleasure built, deepened, and doubled on itself. When the orgasm struck, she almost blacked out.

  In an instant, Mark pulled out, fell to his back, and pulled her on top of him.

  “I want to see your face when I come,” he hissed urgently.

  Still in the throes of her third orgasm, she raised herself then sank down on his shaft. His eyes rolled back and he reached around to grip her tender ass, pushing and pulling her against him as he pounded into her from below.

  In this position, she could grind her clit against him, and that sent a completely different sensation through her core.

  Lifting up, she dug her blunt nails into his chest, briefly grinning at his tattoo. He was branded. She owned him.

  Leaning down as she rotated her hips around and around, she pierced his gaze with hers. “You’re mine now.” It was what he’d said to her earlier, and in the moment, she knew the promise went both ways.

  Realization and acceptance flashed through his gaze as a tight moan fluttered from his chest. And as swiftly as a bird takes flight, the control shifted from him to her. She felt his body give. Felt him relinquish control and acknowledge his place as hers to do with as she pleased.

  “Then take me,” he whispered, his voice shaking.

  She grabbed his arms and flung them out to the sides against the mattress before locking her hands with his. Holding him down, she ground herself against him, driving her body against his, urgently seeking her
fourth climax but more determined to drag his first out of him.

  He moaned and gripped her fingers, his whole body tight as a drum. “Hold me down. Claim me.”

  Shoving his arms up the bed and over his head, she lowered herself against him, pressed her breasts against his chest, and licked his lips.

  “Who owns you?” She snagged his bottom lip between her teeth and tugged. “Hmm?” She let his lip go. “Who owns you, Mark?”

  He groaned, and his eyes glazed over, his pupils fully dilated. “God, you! You own me.” The skin around his eyes tightened. “Oh God!”

  She knew the signs. Knew them so well. He was close.

  Fucking him harder, she nipped his bottom lip, making him groan. His face tensed, and he sucked in a desperate breath. “Fuck, don’t stop.” He drew in another tight breath and held it, never looking away from her eyes. He took several shallow, pinched breaths as his faced strained. Then he blew apart.

  She released his hands, and he drove his arms around her, clutching her body to his. His biceps pulsed in time with the contractions of his lower abdomen as his cock emptied in a series of spasms inside her.

  Mark coming was a glorious experience. His entire body got in on the act. He seemed to feel it everywhere, right down to the tips of his fingers. Every muscle jerked. Every cell seemed to climax. And to think she’d given him that.

  When they’d finished ravishing each other, and they were lying in a breathless heap with their arms around one another, she closed her eyes and thanked whatever power had brought him back to her.

  His fingers tenderly stroked up and down her arm.

  “You know,” he said quietly, “there was no one else while we were apart.”

  She drowsily lifted her head and looked at him. “What do you mean?”

  He blinked and his gaze met hers. “I haven’t slept with anyone else.”

  Narrowing her eyes, she raised up on one elbow. She almost couldn’t believe she’d heard him right. “What are you saying?”

  He licked his lips and smiled. “What do you think I’m saying?”

  “It sounds like you just said you haven’t had sex since the last time we—”