by Morgan Blaze
He’d just have to make sure nothing happened tonight.
Chapter 10
By eight that night, Aubrey decided that Mark wasn’t coming.
She thought about calling him, since she’d kind of taken his phone number off the computer at work. But he probably just wasn’t ready to settle this yet. Maybe he needed a few days to work through the idea of not fighting with her all the time.
And maybe it was for the best, because maybe she was looking for more than just business.
Since she’d asked him over, she couldn’t stop thinking about her own motivation. At least some of it was definitely work-related. She wanted to participate, to learn about working with a crew, to watch a project take shape. But more than that, she wanted…Mark.
She couldn’t deny it. He was like no one she’d ever known, and everything about him drew her in. Even his outbursts. So maybe part of her had asked him to come because she was hoping one thing would lead to another—with “another” being the bedroom.
That was not very professional of her.
But it was pretty late, and he still hadn’t shown. She probably should’ve been grateful. His determination to stay away was keeping her from making a huge mistake, because that’s what sleeping with him again would be. He’d said as much himself.
Then the doorbell rang, and she had to refrain from running to answer it.
She walked to the door, opened it—and the sight of him knocked the breath from her. Mark wore all black, form-fitting jeans and a shirt that showcased his build. The color brought out his eyes, vibrant green and full of uncertainty.
“Hey.” He coughed and dropped his gaze for an instant. “Sorry it’s so late.”
She gave him a moment to elaborate, but he didn’t. “Well, I did say any time,” she said. “Come on in.”
He hesitated, then walked inside slowly. “Nice place.”
“No, it’s not. But it works for now.” The small apartment was on the second floor above a pizza shop, in the type of building that was described as “charming” when you didn’t want to say old and run-down. “It’s cheap, and I don’t have to live with my father,” she said.
Mark raised an eyebrow. “So that’s a bonus?”
“It’s…a long story. Let’s not talk about my family, though.” She gestured to the couch, where she’d laid out the blueprints and a notebook with some of her ideas on the coffee table in front of it. “Have a seat,” she said. “I’m guessing you’ve already had dinner, but I made dessert.”
“Um. Thanks.” He approached the couch as if it might bite him, and sat down warily.
“Be right back.”
She headed into the kitchen and paused for a deep breath before taking the still-warm apple pie out of the oven. It was going to be harder than she thought to stay professional. She’d almost prefer to deal with angry Mark over this polite, slightly awkward and incredibly gorgeous man who’d taken his place. But she’d made her bed, so to speak.
Now she had to avoid sleeping in it.
She dished out two servings and brought them out to the living room. “Hope you like apple pie,” she said, crossing the room to hand him a plate. “It’s the only dessert I know how to make.”
His smile made her heart stop. “All Dawsons love pie,” he said. “It’s genetic.”
It was the first time she’d heard him use his family name with pride—and lots of it. “Is that a fact?” she said.
“Yup. We’re pretty much the only thing keeping Pete’s Diner in business.”
“Oh, I remember that place!” She sat beside him, suddenly forgetting they were supposed to be talking shop. “They have a whole pie menu, like twelve kinds. And that waitress who’s been there since the dinosaurs—what’s her name, Ivy?”
“Holly,” he said. “Holly Freschette. She’s still there, five days a week.”
“That’s her. And their pies are so good.” She smirked and nodded at his plate. “If that’s what you’re used to, this is probably going to be disappointing,” she said. “My pie is… adequate.”
“Well, let’s find out.” He picked up the fork and took a bite. Then he closed his eyes. “It’s not adequate.”
She sighed. “It’s awful, isn’t it?”
“No. It’s perfect.”
Something in his tone made her shiver with anticipation, but she had no idea what to expect. Time to shift gears before she steered things any further off course. “Okay, so about work,” she said. “I have some ideas. But first, I have some questions.”
She saw the change come over him, from almost friendly to reserved and indifferent. A big part of her regretted losing the moment, but it was for the best. She hoped. “What kind of questions?” he said.
“Well, let me start with this,” she said. “I want you to know that I think it’s a great design. Original, with some real personality. But out of curiosity, why did you hand-draw the blueprints?”
He shrugged. “That’s how I learned.”
“Really? Where did you go to school?”
There was a long pause before he said, “I didn’t.”
“You didn’t…” She stared at him. “You taught yourself architecture?”
“Couldn’t afford school.”
God, no wonder he was so furious with her. Even with the natural talent he obviously had, he must’ve practically killed himself to get this far. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?” she said.
He shook his head. “Does it matter? I’m a licensed contractor, so I’m qualified.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“What, then? I’m not as good as you?” There was a warning light in his eyes as he made an obvious effort to stay calm. “Jonah and I had to take care of the family, and our options were limited. We did what we had to. Gage and Luka were still in school when…”
“Your mom died,” she said softly. “Right around our graduation, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, around then.” His voice was tight, his features hard as stone. “She died while I was at that goddamned party.”
Her mind flashed back—and she saw her brother’s snarling face, heard his twisted words. “Oh, my God,” she whispered. “Jason said those awful things…”
“And he was right.” Mark held himself rigid, staring at nothing. He looked like he’d shatter with a touch. “She was dying. In pain. And I wasn’t there.”
There was nothing she could say that wouldn’t sound phony or trite. At least, not about his mother. But maybe he’d feel better if he knew she understood a little more now. “No wonder you hate him so much,” she said. “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have blamed you for hitting him. Back then, or the other day at the bar.” She almost reached for him, but he didn’t look like he wanted comforting. “Why didn’t you just do it anyway? I would’ve.”
His eyes met hers, and she shuddered at the intensity in them. “Because you asked me to stop.”
“What?”
“I did it for you. Not him.” He gave a wry smile and leaned forward slightly. “Why do you think I didn’t want to work with you?”
“Because you’re pissed off, and I’m a Monroe.”
“Yeah, I tried to believe that for a long time,” he said with a sigh. “At first I thought I was mad at you—but I was wrong. I’ve always been angry at myself.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t stop wanting what I can’t have,” he said. “You.”
“You want me,” she said weakly.
“Is that so hard to believe?”
“Well…”
“Look, I know we can’t,” he said. “I’m here for business, just like you said. I just thought…damn it, I don’t know what I’m thinking.”
She waited until he looked at her. “I know what I’m thinking.”
“What’s that?”
“I have a bed.”
He swore and looked away. “Yeah, and I’ve got a couch,” he said. “That wasn’t a good idea, and neither is this.”
&
nbsp; She tried to ignore the stab of renewed hurt. “Look, if it’s my family you’re worried about—”
“It’s not.” He stared at her miserably. “It is, but…it’s more my family. All right, it’s me.” He clasped his hands tight together, as if he couldn’t control them. “I’m a Dawson,” he said. “Don’t you understand? I’ve got nothing, and your family has everything. I’m only going to drag you down.”
“Mark, wait…”
“No.” He stood suddenly, his eyes glittering. “You deserve better than me.”
“Mark Dawson, you stop being a stubborn jackass and listen!”
She got to her feet, feeling as surprised as he looked at her tone. But she’d already started in, so she might as well keep going. “You lost both of your parents, and I can’t imagine what that’s like,” she said. “I only lost one—but things haven’t been all that great living with the one who’s left. My father lost his wife, and it changed him.”
“So that’s my fault, too.”
“Listen! Just shut up and let me finish.” She took a step toward him. “After Mom, my father went super-protective. He didn’t want anything to happen to us, so he made sure nothing ever did. He didn’t even want me to go away to college—he couldn’t constantly watch me that way. But I pushed him into it. I’d never stood up to him until then.” She closed her eyes, remembering the awful fights before she left. “I’ve spent the past eight years learning to make my own choices,” she said. “And if something happens between us? That’s my choice.”
She couldn’t read his expression. “Maybe so,” he said. “But you can’t control what your family thinks.”
“No, I can’t. And I know it’s a risk, especially if one of them was behind the vandalism.” She met his eyes, trying to convey an apology even if it didn’t change what happened, or what could happen. “But my personal life is none of their business, and they don’t have to know.”
He smiled, sending a delicious shiver through her. “I suppose they don’t.”
“Okay,” she breathed. “Does that mean we can—”
His response was a fierce embrace, and a searing kiss that raced through her blood. “Yes, it does,” he murmured against her lips. “So point me to this bed of yours already.”
She was more than happy to comply.
* * * *
Aubrey was going to die any minute now, but it was a hell of a way to go.
She wasn’t sure how long they’d been lying here—naked, kissing and touching, exploring each other in ways she’d never imagined. The urgency of last time had been replaced by something deeper and more satisfying, a desire to know and feel and savor.
But the banked fire in her simmered higher with every touch of his fingers, every brush of his lips, and now she was driven almost frantic with need.
His hand cupped her breast, and she trembled as he bent to suckle her. “Please,” she gasped. “I want you…”
“You have me.” He spoke without moving away, and the words vibrated to her core. “And I have you. Every perfect inch.”
“I don’t have enough,” she whispered. “Please…I want you inside me.”
“Oh, I like it when you beg.” He looked up, his eyes glinting with wicked promise. “Do it again.”
She smiled. “No.”
“So stubborn,” he murmured. “I’ll just have to change your mind.”
She moaned as he returned his attention to her nipples, licking and touching until she could think of nothing but the pleasure. One hand slid down her belly, found her damp curls, and she cried out as he teased her opening and stroked her throbbing clit. “Ready to beg some more now?” he rasped.
“N-no…yes,” she panted when he slid a finger inside. “God, yes, please.”
“Good. Because I can’t wait any longer.”
Then he was over her, his hard cock poised to enter. He drew a shuddering breath and pushed in slowly, groaning through clenched teeth. “You’re incredible,” he said. “Have I told you that yet?”
“A few times. But I don’t mind hearing it again.”
He smiled and bent to kiss her. “You’re incredible.”
“So are you.”
“Mmm.” He caught her gaze, and she shivered as he pulled back carefully and entered her again. He was thick enough to stretch her, and the sensation of skin gliding against skin filled her with a spiraling thrill like nothing she’d ever felt.
His long, languid strokes increased slowly, picking up in pace and force, but his eyes never left hers. She felt every motion intensely, completely connected to him as he drove her to the edge—and then over it, gasping and calling his name. The orgasm ripped through her like a freight train.
She gazed at him, struggling to catch her breath. “Your turn.”
“Oh, God. Aubrey…”
He let out a hoarse cry, thrusting harder, turning her insides to liquid as fresh waves of pleasure invaded her. She was lost to him, her hands on his shoulders, clinging as though she’d drown. Rigid and trembling, he bucked against her and buried his face at her throat.
He came with a shattered sob, nearly a prayer, and after a moment lowered himself shaking beside her with an arm draped across her waist.
With a happy moan, she snuggled into him. “That was…I don’t have words.”
“I do,” he mumbled. “Hold still.”
“Why?”
“Because if you move, I’ll want you again.” He smiled with his eyes closed. “I don’t think either of us has the strength for that.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “I’m tempted to make you beg.”
“No need to make me. I’m begging you…please don’t move.”
“Well, since you asked so nicely.”
She had zero problems with not moving. In fact, she wouldn’t mind never moving again. Right here in the delicious afterglow of amazing sex, sated and half-asleep with Mark beside her, was exactly where she wanted to be.
Part of her ached with the idea that this couldn’t last. There was too much standing in the way. But she didn’t want to think about that right now—she wanted to bask while she could. Allowing herself to believe the impossible, she drifted into a light sleep.
Until the doorbell pulled her into heart-pounding reality.
Mark flinched awake with concern in his eyes. “Expecting company?”
“No,” she half-whispered. “Do you think your brothers…”
“They don’t know where I am.”
“Oh, God,” she said. “No one comes here—except Jason.”
“Think it’s him?”
The doorbell rang again. This time, a flurry of knocking followed.
She groaned. “It’s him.”
Something in his gaze flashed darkly. With obvious effort, he said, “What should we do?”
“Stay here. I’ll get rid of him.” Trying to push away the pain and frustration, she got up fast and hunted for her clothes. “I’m so sorry,” she said as she dressed. “I just…he can’t know. Not yet.”
“I understand.”
She could tell it hurt him to say that, and it made her feel worse. The last thing she wanted to do was treat him like a dirty secret. But this was more than personal. For now, their jobs depended on it, and she’d just have to hope he’d considered that.
Her robe hung on the closet door. She yanked it on, and said, “Be right back.”
She couldn’t bring herself to look at him as she left the room.
Another burst of knocking set her teeth on edge. She strode to the door and looked through the peephole, confirming it was Jason before she pulled it open and spat, “What are you doing here? It’s late.”
“Hey, Bree.” His words were slurred, his eyes red—and he reeked of alcohol. “You busy?”
“I was sleeping,” she intoned. “What the hell, Jason?”
“Sleeping.” He sneered and shook his head. “Mind if I come in?”
“Yes, I do.”
He pushed past her anyway a
nd stood in the middle of the living room, swaying slightly and staring down at the coffee table—still littered with blueprints and two half-finished plates of pie. “I was just out for a walk,” he said. “You know, clearing my head. So I thought I’d stop by and ask you why Mark Dawson’s car is parked outside your place.”
She fought to control the dread swelling inside her. “Jason, you’re drunk,” she said. “Let me drive you home.”
“Yes. I am drunk. But I know what that bastard’s car looks like.” He flashed a chilling grin. “Looks to me like you’ve got company,” he said. “So where is he, Bree?”
“Get out of here. Right now.”
“No…I don’t think so.” Still grinning, he turned in a slow circle and stopped facing the back hallway leading to the bedroom. “I know you’re he-ere,” he said with a mocking lilt. “Three’s a crowd, Dawson. I’m coming for you.”
“Jason!”
He sent her a bland look. “It’s for your own good, little sis. Trust me.”
Before she could move, he darted for the hall with surprising speed.
She ran after him, more furious than she’d ever been. “Jason, I swear to God,” she called. “If you don’t leave…”
“You’ll what?” He reached the bedroom door first. “Someday you’ll thank me for this.”
She grabbed his arm just as he turned the knob. “I mean it,” she said. “Get out.”
“Not until I tear that son of a bitch apart.” He shrugged her off like she was nothing, and flung the door back.
The bed was empty.
“What the hell?” Jason wandered into the room, half-squinting. “Goddamn it, where is he?”
“I told you to leave.” Some of her numb terror had finally started to bleed away. She wasn’t sure how he’d done it, but there was no sign of Mark in there. “How could you act like this?” she said to her brother. “You barge into my house, raid my bedroom—what is wrong with you?”
“No. He’s here. I know it.” Jason stumbled over and opened the closet. Nothing but clothes. With a snarl, he went down on hands and knees to peer under the bed. Every place he looked made her panic increase…until she noticed the edge of the curtain caught in the window and realized Mark must’ve gone down the fire escape. She should have been relieved—but her heart disagreed. She hated herself for not standing up for him.
