In truth, she admired nearly everything about him. The strong line of his back and broad shoulders, yes, but also his unbridled talent and ability to take on a project with zero fear. But even if she’d been willing to break her rule against dating her coworker, she knew she wasn’t his type. Wasn’t blond enough, wasn’t vapid enough. And she wasn’t willing to sleep with him on the first date. Except…this kind of qualified as a date. And she was kind of willing to sleep with him right now.
Five minutes ago, technically.
“I know you have rules.” He brushed his nose over hers, echoing her thoughts. “Care to bend them? Take me for a test drive, McIntire.”
“Here?” she asked, stalling. Here was not the issue. The whole haunted mansion thing had faded into the background. She was a slave to her body’s reactions, to the heat of his hands, to the sound of his confident, deep voice. To him. All of him.
She couldn’t see his dark eyes, but she imagined their taunting glint, the wicked twist in the smile she felt grazing her cheek.
“What if… what if I say no?” She wouldn’t. She was halfway to yes now, her body humming from his fingers teasing over the thin layer of her panties.
“You won’t,” he said, his firm lips peppering her jaw with kisses.
She hated that cocksure side of him. Only she didn’t. Maybe she’d been mistaken, thinking his confidence was something to be shunned. It seemed all her girlie parts were cheering on this alpha male. He kissed her deeper, his tongue swirling her senses, and she fisted his shirt and began hauling it over his head.
“What if you say no?” She pulled his shirt up and gave him an open-mouthed kiss on his chest. He shifted beneath her, a groan low in his throat, so she tasted him again, loving the feel of his hardness, the tickle of his chest hair on her tongue.
“I won’t.” He pulled his hands from her pants, but before she had a chance to miss his touch, he was dragging her hoodie and shirt over her head in a tangled ball. Her bra went next. He had it unhooked and off her arms and, before she knew it, she was nude from the waist up.
There was a snide voice in her head pointing out how much practice he must’ve had at removing a woman’s clothes, but it was quickly shut out by another thought.
Practice makes perfect. No doubt he had many tricks up his sleeve when it came to the female form.
Not that she had any time to dwell on her misplaced jealousy. A second later, he braced her body against his and rolled with her. He shoved a pillow under her head, taking care to lift the bulk of her long hair out of the way.
“Comfortable?” he asked against her mouth, then quickly followed the line of her neck with mind-numbing kisses.
“Very,” she breathed.
He licked a trail down her throat, and she fed her fingers into his hair, her hips tipping off the bed when he placed a soft kiss between her breasts. His tongue circled her nipple, and she let out a startled gasp, followed by a thoroughly embarrassing moan. That…was the best sensation in the world. He pulled his mouth away with a soft pop and moved to her other breast, taking his time to trace her other nipple with care.
She massaged his scalp, her body overheating as he worked his magic. Her entire body tingled. Her head swam. Had anyone ever turned her on this much with his mouth? Had anyone ever tried? “Marcus, God.”
He smiled against her breast. She felt his teeth and lips, the cool air abrading her skin as he inhaled. Then he was climbing her body, the air mattress shifting as he moved. When he reached her mouth, he kissed her and pressed his hips into hers. She squirmed against his erection, feeling wet and warm, and so close to begging for it, she should be ashamed of herself. But she wasn’t ashamed. She wanted him… Oh, how she wanted him.
“What do you say, McIntire?” His voice was an intoxicating rasp in the dark room, an anchor in a sea of black.
What would she say? She’d say anything. She’d say everything. She’d been taken hostage by the man’s inescapable charm.
“What’s the question?” she teased, knowing full well his intentions. He ground into her again, and she clawed at his arms, wanting him closer. Needing him closer. He wanted her to say she wanted him. Wanted her to admit that she’d been felled by his epic seduction.
He nipped her bottom lip and soothed it with one slow, hot lick. “Make love to me, Lily.”
…
Dude.
Marcus wanted to hoover up the words that had just left his lips without permission. He’d meant to say something much more crass. Something teasing and kind of dirty. Not four vulnerable words showing her just how much he respected her. The last thing he needed was for her to see him as some feeble-minded man with a knee-weakening crush on her.
And he was both of those things.
He didn’t think he was about to be turned down—hell, he was halfway to getting into her pants—but maybe he’d misread her. Plus, he liked her way more than was healthy. Way more than four out of five doctors would recommend.
No. Fuck that. He was getting a yes. There was no way he’d miss the chance to take her to heaven and back right here on this air mattress. Not after a fitful night of erotic dreams starring her. Not after he woke with raging morning wood he’d had to beat into submission—literally. And still he wanted her. There was no quelling his attraction for her. No stopping what they’d started. So, yeah, he’d get that yes. No matter what.
You got this, Black.
He lowered his head and began teasing her breasts again, pulling one tightened bud onto his tongue and suckling her. She liked this. He could tell by the way she played her fingers along his head. An answering buzz shot down his spine and made his cock pulse. He drove his hips against her, desperate to feel the wet warmth between her legs without her pants in the way. But she hadn’t said yes yet, and he wanted to hear her say yes.
Actually, he wanted to hear her say, yes, Marcus, repeatedly in between heated breaths, he thought with a wicked grin.
He licked her with the flat of his tongue and pulled her deep into his mouth. God, he wished he could see what color her nipples were. He’d bet they were burnished peach, maybe a couple of freckles around them like the cute ones dotting her nose. A high, keening sound came from her throat, and he drove his erection into her thigh.
“Will you respect me in the morning?” she breathed, her hands pulling his hair in every direction. He liked it.
“You’re going to make me work for it, aren’t you?”
She laughed, a throaty, sexy sound. He liked that even more.
“I’m a determined man, McIntire.” He pulled his mouth from her nipple and rubbed his chin against it, testing to see if the roughness against her tender flesh turned her on or off. She clutched his head, a high, tight sound choking out her ebbing laughter.
On. Definitely on.
“The bet still stands,” she told him, her vocal chords strained as he continued exploring her body. “No matter what we do for the next hour. And this…this exists outside of everything else.”
His lips came to a halt on her stomach. She meant outside of work. Outside of the world they inhabited when they weren’t pawing at each other in a pitch black, purportedly haunted mansion. Because he was a man, and capable of separating his dick’s pastimes from his workplace pastimes, it surprised him to feel a faint pinch in the area of his heart.
She wanted him here and now. Just not later. He didn’t like it, but it wasn’t about to stop him from fulfilling a two-year-plus wet dream.
“Of course,” he said against her skin. “Back to normal Monday morning.” Unless he convinced her otherwise.
Another rake of her hand through his hair sent him lower down her body, then she blurted, “Joanie and Clive can’t know.”
What kind of idiot did she take him for? He knew better than to ask. He stuck his tongue in her belly button and she sucked in a breath. “Say the word, Lily. We’re not going further until you do.”
Her palms on his cheeks, she pulled at his head and he climbed he
r body, meeting her nose to nose. “Promise,” she said.
He wasn’t a kiss-and-tell kind of guy as it was, but with Lily…he’d never brag about her to their friends. He respected her too much. “Promise, sweetheart. Now say it so I can get to the part where you scream my name.”
She tried to kiss him, but her lips hit the side of his nose. She muttered a small “oops” and they both let loose a laugh.
“Yes.” That one magical word was followed by the softest, sweetest kiss on his mouth then the almost dirty command, “Now get to work.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Chapter Nine
She expected him to tear down her body a second later, but instead he lay against her, his heart hammering against her breasts. Or maybe that was her heart.
Tenderly, he brushed her cheeks with the pads of his fingers, his words gravel-laden when he said, “Say that again, McIntire.”
She grinned. Why, suddenly, was everything about him making her so…happy? The hot, she understood. The hot was a given. But the happy? Definitely different. Good different. She arched her back and wrapped her arms around his neck, brushing her nipples against the coarse hair on his chest.
“Get…” She gripped his ears. “To…” A kiss. “Work…” She nipped his lip as he’d done to her earlier, stroking her tongue over the fullness of it before adding, “Please.”
His arms tightened, his entire body flexed. He wasn’t the only one capable of seduction.
Clearly their banter hadn’t ended at the foot of the air mattress. They were still sparring, and the pattern was familiar, easing them into the unfamiliar ground they found themselves navigating.
“I like when you beg,” he said, clearly in agreement. He tugged at her remaining clothing, dragging off her pants and panties, socks and shoes, and dropping them somewhere in the dark.
She heard his zipper next, and her heart thudded out a hectic pattern, sending adrenaline flitting through her veins. This was really happening. She was going to feel all that hard male muscle up close and oh-so-personal. She heard the rasp of denim and felt the shift of weight as he removed his jeans and dropped his boots with one thud followed by another. The crinkle of a foil packet told her he’d been carrying a condom, and for that bit of Boy Scout preparedness, she would be eternally grateful.
“Pleasured by an ax-wielding madman,” she joked, needing to temper her excitement.
A deep chuckle penetrated the silence and sent a flutter of feather-light tingles up her naked body. His knees were between her legs as he worked the condom over his length. She hadn’t seen him, but she’d felt him.
So, yeah.
Length.
A smile she couldn’t prevent spread across her face as his hands landed on either side of her hips. She wanted to feel him inside her, stretching her, the delicious weight of his body when he came down over her.
Moonlight sliced through the boards in the window, highlighting one of his thick, hair-covered thighs. He leaned forward and the beam caressed his rippling torso, the forearm where her hand rested. She caught a glimpse of his face next, and he gave her a genuine, sexy smile before lowering his gaze to take her in. Light crisscrossed her body, a slash across one thigh and the opposite calf. He moved his arm and the moonlight lit the red-blond hair between her legs.
Starting at her ankle, he caressed his fingers up the back of her calf to the inside of her thigh. Her legs fell open, the pulse between them a steady beat. Gooseflesh rose on her skin in response to the opposing warmth of his fingers and the chill of the room.
His eyes on the triangle of curls between her legs, he murmured. “Au naturale,” not sounding the least bit disappointed.
She covered herself with one hand. “I didn’t exactly plan on…uh…company.”
“Move your hand,” he commanded. She did. He fed his fingers through the fine hair between her legs. “I like you this way.” He stroked his finger along her wetness and delved inside, slowly, deeply.
She shuddered.
“Lil,” he said, his voice holding a reverence she’d never heard before. He slid into her again. “So wet.”
“Mmm,” was all she could manage while his talented fingers worked their magic at the V of her thighs. He added his thumb, stroking her clit while she made a series of nonsensical sounds. Then he pulled his hand away, and she let out a soft little whine.
“Patience, McIntire.”
She wiggled her hips. “I’m done being patient.”
He leaned up and flicked his tongue over her breast. “Your nipples are perfect.”
She laughed. Out of embarrassment or because his compliment sounded so heartfelt, she wasn’t sure which. Again she latched onto the banter that might help her find her footing. “I’m sure you know what you’re talking about, having seeing a few hundred pairs.”
He neither confirmed nor denied, only spoke with quiet authority. “Trust me, Lil, they don’t all look like yours.” Lowering his head, he took one on his tongue in the faint light slanting over her chest. He must have known she watched, because he spared her a glance, his dark eyes zeroing in on her when he said, “Delicious.”
He licked his bottom lip, and then drew the flat of his tongue slowly over her again. She shifted beneath him, unable to stop watching his slow assault, unable to keep from pressing her hips against the part of him she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about.
“I want to see yours.” Her voice was weak. So weak.
“No,” he said, not moving away from her breasts.
Hands in his hair, she wasn’t sure whether to guide him or pull him away. She was dying a little, in a very good way. “Why?” Unable to keep from teasing him, she added, “Is it tiny?”
He made a choking sound and lifted his head. The dampness on his lips shined in the meager light, and his eyes narrowed as he peered at her through a million dark lashes.
“You tell me.” His smile turned predatory as he nudged her entrance with his erection.
She gasped at the contact. Definitely not tiny. But she’d known that, had intended for him to answer her challenge. “Then let me see it,” she said with all the conviction she could muster. Which wasn’t much.
He moved until his face was over hers. Against her lips, he muttered in a low, almost threatening tone, “I’d rather you feel it.” Then he pushed into her another inch.
The sound that came from her lips wasn’t a gasp, wasn’t feminine at all, actually. It was downright guttural. More like a guh followed by an expelled breath. Because grunting was oh-so-sexy. This was one argument Marcus was winning. Clearly. He knew it, too, sliding deeper into her and pulling a long, low groan of satisfaction from her throat.
“Have it your way, Black,” she managed, her eyes rolling back in her head as she shifted her body to accommodate him.
On his elbows, he hovered over her, blotting out the light with his body. He slid in to the hilt and paused, stretching her, filling her.
“Lily.” A deep groan reverberated from his chest to hers. “Finally. Out of my dreams.”
The words penetrated some part of her she didn’t want them to, so instead she moved her hands over his body, admiring the curve his rounded shoulders, the deep planes and lines of his abdominal muscles. She loved the feel of him, hard but soft, strong but gentle. And from the throbbing member nestled between her legs, she’d admit, there was a lot of him to feel.
He pulled out slowly and she wrapped her legs around him, dug her heels into his tight butt, and savored every inch of him as he slid home again. Encased within her, he blew out a breath and dropped his forehead to hers.
“In a hurry?” he asked.
“No.” Maybe. For some reason, the slower he went, the more she felt things she worried she shouldn’t be feeling. As barriers went, speeding things up was a pathetic attempt at having one, but there had to be boundaries if they expected to be done with each other after tonight.
“Good. I’m not hurrying.” True to his word, he didn’t devour her,
tease her mercilessly with his tongue and teeth, or rasp her flesh with the hard scrape of whiskers. Instead, he kissed her gently, his tongue tracing her lips while he moved his body in and out of hers at a slow, drugging pace, each slide winding her tighter, causing her breath to snag. On a low, barely there whisper, she heard her own voice as she sighed his name.
He drew in an answering breath, and she waited to hear the quip, the joke, the dab of levity for the most intense moment they’d ever shared. But he only dropped his head into the crook of her neck and laid his mouth over her leaping pulse as they found their unhurried rhythm in the dark.
As his chest brushed against her, she trailed her fingers along his back, reading the lines of muscle and ridges of his spine like Braille, committing every inch of him to memory. If they had only these stolen moments in this pocket of time, she’d take it. She’d savor the hardness of him between her legs, his chest hair tickling her breasts, the sound of his breath, and the reverent way he stroked her temples as he moved with her.
Weight braced on one arm, he brushed a few stray strands of her hair aside and kissed her cheek. He skimmed his other palm down the side of her body, his movements unrushed, and she found the word “please” leaving her lips.
“Really, really like it when you beg.” He continued to rock into her as his fingers danced over her ribs, along the arch of her hip, and finally dove into the curls at the junction of her thighs.
Once there, he did all the right things. He knew how much pressure to place against the most sensitive part of her, knew how to coordinate his thumb with the forward thrust of his hips as he drove into her again and again. It was a delicate dance he’d mastered, and she was reaping the rewards.
“Say my name, McIntire.” She heard the smile, the dare in his voice.
If You Dare Page 7
