by Lynda Chance
It hadn’t really been that way, but he hadn’t known it. And now, now she was asking him to trust her, to trust her for God’s sake, when he’d never trusted a woman in his life. He didn’t know how to trust her. But evidently, if he wanted to keep her, and he did, he’d have to learn how to trust her, and quickly. So yes, he was a bit pissed. Pissed at her for her demands, pissed at himself because he wouldn’t just relinquish her. Just let her go. He knew if it had been any other female that’s exactly what he’d do. She’d be gone. Gone in a heartbeat. That quickly.
But not Natalie. He was addicted. Completely. He knew it. And goddamnit, Natalie probably knew it as well. He knew he was sexually addicted to her; there was no other explanation. He was addicted to her scent, enthralled with the sweet sounds she made when he slid inside of her. He was completely intoxicated with her taste. Her skin was so soft, so sweet he almost couldn’t stand it. He physically wanted to lick her; sometimes he wanted to actually bite into her flesh. But he couldn’t, at least, not beyond a certain point. He loved it when her thighs would clench around him in need, it set off a ravenous hunger inside of him that he didn’t think he’d ever be able to quench.
As she watched him warily now, he felt himself calm down a bit. She had been excellent, had given him exactly what he wanted. And he shouldn’t be taking it out on her now. “Come here.”
Her eyes flared and he realized she was agitated by his demand. Did she think he was going to rip her pants off again? He damn sure wanted to. But not now. Now he had something to prove to her.
He only hoped it would do the goddamn trick.
Natalie eyed him as he held out his hand to her, silently demanding she take it. She took the few steps needed and put her fingers in his palm. His hand gripped her hard and his fingers entwined with hers as he pushed the button to complete the downward descent.
The doors opened and Natalie realized they were all the way down in the underground parking garage. He pulled her over and led her to his car and pointed. “What do you think?” he asked her.
Her brow furrowed. “About your car?”
“No—about yours,” he announced.
“My what?”
“Your car.”
Natalie felt nothing but confusion as she looked around for the small green compact that her cousin had previously lent to her. “Where is it?”
“Next to mine. The grey Lexus.”
Natalie almost choked. “The grey what?”
He pulled her over to a beautiful, brand-new car with sleek grey lines. “The Lexus. This one.” He pulled a remote key from his pocket and pressed a button. Natalie heard the subdued double-click of the doors automatically unlocking.
She shook her head back and forth and mumbled, “I don’t understand.”
“What is it you don’t understand?”
Her voice became stronger. “How is this going to prove you trust me? You bought yourself an additional car, equipped it with another GPS locater, and you’re going to allow me to drive it?” The sarcastic, biting question had barely left her lips when he moved the few inches that separated them and stood in front of her, glaring down at her.
“That’s your one free pass. I truly don’t like sarcasm coming from those pretty lips when it’s directed at me, you understand?”
She studied him intently, holding herself stiffly. “This is one of those moments, isn’t it, Marco? One of those moments when you get to be you, and I’m not supposed to be scared or feel intimidated, right?”
His hands fell to her upper arms and his thumbs kneaded her flesh. “That’s right, sweetheart. I don’t want you to be scared, but you will do as I say. Capisce?”
Her lips tightened. “If you don’t want sarcasm from me, I expect the same from you.”
He gripped her arms. “Do you like the damn car or not?”
“It’s very pretty, if that’s what you’re asking me.”
“I hope you think so, because it’s not mine. It’s yours. I bought it in your name. I’m going to give you the title. And there’s not a fucking locater in it.”
His words both shocked and pleased her. She sensed he was telling her the truth. “Mine? You bought it for me? Really?”
“Yes.”
“And can I actually drive it?”
“What the hell kind of question is that?” He all but roared the question.
“An honest one.”
“Yes, you can drive it. But you have to promise me a couple of things first.”
Her eyes left his and landed on the car again, suddenly itching to get inside and drive it. “What?”
“You’ll always wear your seatbelt and drive within the speed limit.”
“Yes, of course,” she agreed simply.
“You won’t text and drive. Or drink and drive.”
She turned back around to face him with a scorching look on her face. “I’m not an idiot.”
He ignored that. “You’ll come home every night.”
Natalie heard the slight trace of vulnerability behind the hissing menace of his voice that he couldn’t quite disguise. She didn’t acknowledge the subtle threat in his tone, the rigid demand or the hint of anger this situation was causing him. All she focused on was the vulnerability as it slid through her and landed with an irresistible need to touch him and reassure him. She lifted her hand to the five o’clock shadow that graced his face every evening when he came home. “I’ll be safe—”
He cut her off and grabbed her to him and slammed her torso against his. “You better be fucking safe. Don’t for an instant think I’ve forgotten how we met. I’m not calling you stupid, but you’re not used to driving in the city. This is damn hard for me, Natalie. It’s killing me.”
She caressed his cheek as she acknowledged to herself what he was feeling and what a huge step this was in his bid to trust her. “I know. It’s okay. I’ll be safe. I won’t go far.”
She felt some of the tension leave his body and he leaned down and rested his forehead against hers. She reached up and kissed him softly on the cheek, and whispered in his ear, “I’ll be safe. I’ll take care of your car.”
His fingers gripped her chin and forced her eyes to his. Intense, sexual heat smoldered from them as he rasped back, “I don’t give a fuck about the car. Take care of you.”
****
A month slid by in a rush. Natalie was more than content. She’d started out slowly with the car, only driving to the grocery store as she took over the chore that she didn’t see as a chore at all. She was beginning to love to cook, and wanted to browse the shelves slowly to get new ideas and to see what was available.
She drove to the library and checked out books, even though he had equipped her with a credit card of her own, a credit card with no limit, she didn’t want to spend more money than she had to. And library books were free.
She only shopped for clothes when he requested she wear something special, which so far, hadn’t been often.
She was content. She refused to think of herself as his mistress. She was his girlfriend. They lived together. That was all. That’s the way it was.
Her cousin was back in town and she’d touched base with him. She missed her mother, but spoke to her often. Natalie believed her mom was finally coming to her senses, slowly but surely. She could hear the disillusion in her voice. It was painful for Natalie to hear, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it. She and her mom wanted to get together. Natalie needed to feel her mom’s embrace and she knew her mother needed that worse than she did. But her mother worked full-time, and they were having trouble finding a weekend free that suited them both. But it had to happen soon; they missed each other too much to go much longer without seeing one another.
Natalie loved the new decor of the penthouse and began to put her own touch on it. She bought a few things here and there, moved a few things around, and generally just slowly began to make it feel as if it were her own. It helped, but not entirely.
What did help was seeing Marco�
��s reaction to the small changes that she made. He’d look around and notice something. He never said anything, but a look would pass over his features. A look of satisfaction.
He wanted her there. She knew it. Pleasure would course through her every time she saw that look. So much so that she’d find herself going shopping just to see that expression on his face again. It soothed her and gave her comfort that his feelings for her ran deep.
There was no doubt that she was in love with him. Every day, she would learn a different nuance of his personality. She learned how to interpret his expressions and how to read his body language and mannerisms. She began to know how he would react, and what he was thinking before he reacted.
Marco’s feelings for her were growing as well, and she hoped they would continue to do so. But he never mentioned the future and he certainly never shared his feelings with her. At least, not verbally. What she received from him were only hints, clues she gleaned from their interactions.
She found it amusing that he’d once said he didn’t need her for mundane things, like watching a movie together. But now, she realized that one of his most relaxing pastimes was losing himself in a movie they’d rent. But only with her under his arm, lying side by side on the couch.
A shiver of delight ran through her. She thrilled when she thought of the way he’d hold her face between his hands when they made love, his eyes latched onto hers, refusing to let her break the connection between them, as he steadily pumped his hips into hers, bringing them both slowly to orgasm.
But making love in that manner only came after. After he’d come home at night and had cornered her where she stood. It usually happened the moment he walked in the door. He’d find her, walk her to the nearest wall or countertop—and fuck her blind. There was never any stopping him, not that she wanted to, he was always on a mission, he had a one-track mind and getting her panties off was always it. At those times, her other clothes didn’t matter. Sometimes they stayed on and sometimes they came off. But always, the second he’d pushed her panties down her legs and opened her to him, his nostrils would flare and a hard satisfaction that wasn’t only sexual, would cross his hardened features.
He always made her come. Those times were hot and fast, but he always saw to it that she came before him or with him.
Yes, there was no question that so far, she was more than satisfied with their relationship. She was twenty-four years old, and someday wanted a husband and family. She knew in her heart that she wanted those things with him. But for right now, she was content and satisfied with the tangible, and intangible, proof that he cared for her and that their relationship was moving in the right direction.
****
It was almost noon and Marco was beginning to feel the bite of hunger. It was Tuesday, and on Tuesdays, Joy went to the deli and brought them both back something to eat at their desks. She’d long since quit asking him what he wanted and he knew it was because he couldn’t care less. He only grunted at her. He knew he did because she’d complained about it more than once.
He heard the light tap on his door and put his pen down. Joy opened his door and he didn’t recognize the expression on her face. “Natalie is here to see you.” Her words were hesitant, almost cringe-worthy, and he realized she thought he’d be pissed. She knew he absolutely hated when women stopped by his office to see him.
But that wasn’t the feeling that was running through his gut now. “Why are you making her wait?”
Joy’s jaw dropped open at the same moment she pushed the door wide and let Natalie through.
Marco ran his eyes over his woman as Natalie turned and very nicely, thanked Joy.
“No problem. It’s nice to finally meet you.” Joy answered Natalie and then her eyes slid back to Marco. “Do you still need lunch as usual?”
Marco watched Natalie standing still just inside his office door. “I don’t know. Do I, Natalie?”
“I won’t be here long, if that’s what you’re asking me.”
“I guess I need lunch then.”
“I’ll be back in twenty minutes or so,” Joy replied as she shut the door, enclosing them in privacy.
Marco leaned back in his chair and observed Natalie in silence. She fidgeted, moved her weight from one foot to the next and couldn’t keep her eyes on his. She was nervous.
And son of a bitch, her nervousness was making him nervous.
Why had she come here? Why was she nervous? He couldn’t deny the heat and the pure pleasure that had run down his spine when he’d seen her in his doorway. But not now. Now he was feeling something far different. A cold sweat broke out. This was so far from her normal routine that he admitted to himself what he was feeling.
Panic.
He pushed the congealing lump down his throat and tried to get his shit together. His eyes narrowed on her. “What’s up?” he asked as steadily as he could manage.
She licked her lips and finally looked him in the eye. “Nothing. I just needed to speak to you and realized I’d never seen your bank. So here I am.”
“Yes, here you are.”
“So—” She puffed out a breath and her eyes left his as they wandered around his office.
“What do you need to tell me?”
She took a deep, steadying breath. “Just that I’ll be late coming home tonight.”
“Why?” The word left his lips in a growl—even though he was reeling inside from the intense relief that she would be coming home tonight.
The information she gave him didn’t answer his question immediately. “I put a pot roast and potatoes in the crock pot. It will be ready when you come home. Just leave the kitchen. I’ll clean it when I get in.”
“Where are you going?”
“To see my mom—”
His muscles tightened. “Where the pedophile lives?”
“I’m an adult, Marco. He’s not a pedophile, at least I don’t think he is.”
“It’s not happening, baby. You’re not going where you might be in danger.”
“You’re right. I’m not. I’m not going anywhere near Vidor. Mom took a vacation day and we’re meeting in Beaumont, at a very large, very public restaurant.”
“He’s not going to be there?”
“No, otherwise I wouldn’t be going. I told her I needed a girl day, just the two of us. We’re going for a late lunch and shopping. I haven’t seen her since I left. It’s been almost two months.”
He picked up his pen and tapped it against his desk in agitation. “I don’t like it.”
“Yes, I realize you don’t like it. That’s why I’m here. Telling you in person. But this is one of those times, Marco.”
His mouth flattened and he raised his eyebrows in question.
She continued, “One of those times when you’re going to have to trust me.”
He gritted his teeth so hard it hurt. “Evidently.”
Her shoulders relaxed infinitesimally, and he stood to his feet and crossed the room. He threw the lock on the door and reached for her two seconds after that. She sucked in a breath and stared up at him. “I need a little reassurance before I let you go.” His grip tightened. “Can you think of anything that would make me feel better?”
Natalie stood dumbstruck under his touch. His dark, diabolical words trickled along her nerve endings. He wanted her now? Here? In the bank? Just the idea sent wild, wanton heat tingling down her spine. Unconsciously, she swayed toward him.
He grabbed her hips and pulled her into him. “Good call, sweetheart. That’s exactly right.” His head lowered, and he kissed her, hard, fierce, his tongue going deep within the recesses of her mouth and dominating her where she stood. She felt her brain separate from her body, and she gave him what he wanted, her body softening under his hands where they gripped her.
His mouth was hard as it moved over hers, alternating between light sips of her lips before plunging his tongue in once again and stabbing at her, in a motion that mimicked what he wanted to do with his body.
S
he clutched his shoulders as he lifted her off her feet and walked her backwards in his arms. Her butt landed on his huge, mahogany desk and he pushed his way between her spread thighs.
He wasted no time, and lifted her airy, floral skirt and pushed it to her waist. He ripped her panties down her legs and held her captive while he adjusted his fly and pushed into her, sinking all the way in with one long, captivating thrust.
Two things hit Natalie at once. Pleasure, intense and undeniable—and the knowledge he’d pushed inside of her without a condom. It was the first time he’d ever done it, and she was almost sure he didn’t realize it yet. She had to stop him, had to tell him, but she was having difficulty catching her breath. Forming words was almost impossible; the situation was so far away from what she had expected when she left the house less than an hour ago.
He stroked her hard and she felt the sensations building. She had to stop him. She could get only one word out. “Stop.”
He didn’t.
“Marco, stop.”
He lifted his face from her shoulder and Natalie could see the effort it was costing him to even slow down. Sweat dripped down the side of his cheekbone and his face resembled hard, implacable granite. “Why?”
Again, all she could get out was a single word. “Condom.”
He stalled against her, but then began pumping his hips again. “I can’t stop.”
His admission, his very lack of control, sent Natalie over the edge and she began splintering underneath him. She let out an uncontrollable moan and wrapped her arms around his neck as she came in his arms.
He followed her over, and the impact of feeling his ejaculation hot and liquid against her womb sent additional quakes through her body.
