by Marina Adair
Had he blown it? Fuck! He should have taken her to the bedroom.
“Second thoughts?” he whispered, hoping to hell that she said no. When she flashed him a devilish smile and shook her head, he felt his heart resume beating and his dick go harder—if that was even possible.
“I seem to have this problem with my neighbor.”
“Me too,” he said, sliding his hands down to her ass and pulling her against him so she could see exactly how bad his problem was. “Seems to grow bigger every time I see her.”
“Wow, that’s a hard problem to have,” she said against his ear, tracing a finger down one side of his erection and right back up the center. Holy Christ, her hands were magic. “Mine has to do with the window.”
“Forget the window,” he panted, dropping his head back as she tightened her fingers around his length and gently squeezed. He was willing to forget the window, the bed, anything if it meant she’d start moving her hand up and down.
“If I do that, your cleaning crew will get an eyeful I am sure they won’t ever forget.” He heard her words, but it was hard to process them when all of the blood was rushing south. She slowly moved up his length and tightened her grip before sliding back down.
“No one will see,” he mumbled, his eyes sliding closed.
“You did,” she whispered, her hands never slowing.
“I was looking” was all he managed to get out because she picked up the pace, squeezed to the point of pain, and he knew that he wasn’t going to make it—to the bed, to the touching, to the naked part. Hell, he wasn’t going to last two more seconds. Which meant he’d have to make up for it in round two, because there was no way he was going to stop her.
Two seconds, two hours, he wasn’t sure. Between breathing in her skin, her mouth on his neck, and her hands stroking him into oblivion, time seemed to disappear. So did everything else.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, a light clicked on. It was from across the alleyway. Marc bit back a curse and stilled her hands. Because the thought of someone watching them, watching Lexi like this? No fucking way. She was his.
“The curtains,” he said, more alert than he’d have liked. “I need to close the curtains.”
“I’ll get it.” Lexi crawled off his lap and pulled the blinds closed. “Better?”
“Thank yo—” was all he got out before she turned around and his breath caught.
God, she was beautiful. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders in a mass of golden waves, her mouth was full and wet and so sexy he needed to have it back on him, and her dress was a mess of wrinkles from his hands. She looked like some kind of X-rated prom queen, and he ached to hold her.
“Come here.” He held out his arms.
Only she didn’t walk back over, instead stopping at the end of the coffee table to offer up a playful smile. He wasn’t sure what she had in mind, but that naughty look in her eye was enough for him to sit back and see what she was planning.
Kicking off his shoes, he leaned back, his hands folded behind his head, and relaxed while he let her decide what she wanted to do next.
Without warning, she reached behind her and slowly pulled down the zipper of her dress. He could hear the metal teeth as she lowered the fastening, inch by incredible inch. Not feeling so relaxed, he sat upright as she let go and the dress fell to the floor in one swoop, leaving her in those strappy heels, silk panties, and abso-fucking-lutely nothing else. “You’re welcome.”
Her panties were purple. No wait, lighter than purple. His breath caught…they were lavender.
Her panties were lavender silk, and he’d bet his hotel that they matched her frilly apron perfectly. A fact he filed away for later, because right then he needed to appreciate those breasts. The ones he’d fantasized about since he was fourteen. Not only were they fantasyworthy, they were bigger than he’d imagined, fuller and higher with rose-colored nipples that jutted out perfectly under his gaze.
Her hands hung at her sides, letting him have his look. But he could tell that she was trying not to cover herself.
“Jesus, Alexis,” he breathed. “The things I’m going to do to you.”
She raised a brow, and he watched her walk closer, loving how her hips moved under the silk of her panties and wondering what the small triangle of lavender hid. When she reached the couch, he opened his arms and she went right into them, straddling his lap. Kid move or not, his hands went immediately to her breasts. He needed to touch them, weigh them, get to know each and every inch of them. First with his hands, and then with his mouth.
“Things? There’s more than one?” Her arms were under his shirt, pulling it over his head and discarding it. “Sounds complicated.”
“Sugar, everything with you is complicated.” He kissed her left breast, right on the underneath side. “Keep my distance.” Then her right. “No flirting.” Back to the left. “No staring. No dreaming.” He stopped, his eyes flying to hers, and he smiled. “Although I broke that rule almost daily. There was a period of time there that every morning I woke up so hard for you I’d walk around with a bulge in my pants all day.”
“Those teen years must have been rough on you,” she teased, stroking his cheek.
“Teen years?” He turned his head, catching the inside of her palm and kissing her there too. It felt good. Not as good as kissing her breasts. But different good. “Hell, cream puff, I was talking about since you came home.”
“What other rules?”
“Let’s see.” He went back to her breasts, this time using his tongue. “No…absolutely no touching. Because I knew if we did”—he pulled her into his mouth, and she arched back with a throaty cry—“this would happen and I’d never be able let you go. And even if you broke up with Jeff you’d still belong to him.”
She went utterly still. He could feel the doubt creeping through her. “Do you still see me as that girl? As Jeffery’s?”
“No.” He brought his hands to her face so that she couldn’t look away. He’d been battling this attraction for half of his life, which meant he’d been battling some deep-seated guilt about his feelings for Lexi for just as long. After their first kiss last week, he’d come to terms with all of it, and he wanted her to know how he could be with her now, like this. “I figure any man who can walk away from you wasn’t a fucking man to begin with.”
Lexi wasn’t sure what she expected him to say, but that wasn’t it.
His admission was so raw and so real and so freaking hot that it made her body ache in ways she wasn’t sure were healthy. And don’t even get her started on the possessive way his hands gripped her hips when he said it, or how his eyes promised her the world. That made her want things that she hadn’t wished for in a long time. Things that she had long ago given up hope even existed. Or at least existed for a girl like her.
“So, are you a man?”
Marc was silent for so long Lexi felt the urge to pull the crocheted afghan off the back of the couch and cocoon herself inside. But she resisted. This was important and she was no longer content to hide from life, so instead she held his gaze, which was so intense she felt as though he was seeing every inch of the real her.
After a long moment, Marc’s hand slid up her spine and under her hair, gently cradling the back of her head in his palm. The little flecks of light filtering through the crack in the curtains showed the softening in his features. “Around you I am.”
Before she could respond, Lexi found herself in one of the most amazing kisses of her life. His mouth was soft and sure and so gentle it melted her heart—and every last bit of resolve.
Letting go of the past, she gave herself over to the moment, to the incredible connection bubbling between them, and to Marc. It was as though someone flipped a switch and all of her fears of heartache and trust vanished, leaving a need so deep that she knew only Marc could fill it.
“Marc,” she moaned between kisses, a hard task considering that one kiss fell into another, and another, until she couldn’t feel or think a
bout anything but him.
As if he sensed her walls lowering, sensed her giving in, Marc flipped her around, and before she knew what was happening, she was seated on the edge of the couch and he was kneeling between her legs.
“I love your body.” It wasn’t a declaration of love by any means, but the way his hands slid down her form, as though appreciating every curve and dip, made her feel cherished—something she hadn’t felt in a long time.
He took her breasts in his hands and kissed one, then nibbled and licked his way over to the other, like he couldn’t decide where he wanted to start and was determined not to miss an inch of skin.
He paid such careful attention that by the time he’d made his way to the hem of her panties she was a vibrating ball of sexual need. Then he skipped right over her panties and dropped a kiss on her knee. It was a nice kiss, firm and warm, and it sent little zings all the way to her toes. But that wasn’t where she wanted the zing—or his kisses—to go.
“I’ve always dreamed of kissing you here.” He pressed a love bite on the inside of her thigh.
“That was a bite, not a kiss. And of all the places, that’s the one you dreamed about?”
He smiled. “My dream, my rules. I also dreamed about here.” He did it again, only harder, then licked the sting away. “And here.” He moved higher.
“That’s a lot of dreams,” she laughed, her smile fading when his tongue slid around the edge of her silk panties. It was too hard to smile while you were moaning.
“We’re talking a lot of years, cream puff.” He leaned up and kissed her lips. “Want to know where my most frequently recurring dream took place?”
His hands slid up her thighs, and she knew exactly where she wanted it to take place next, and just how many times she wanted it to recur. But if he wanted to play, she could too. She cupped both of her breasts and raised a brow. “Here?”
He gave each nipple a soft kiss and then said, “Although that was my very first dream, over the years it came in at number four.”
“Hmm.” She slid her hand down her stomach and under the elastic of her panties and rubbed her swollen, moist skin. “I bet for a teen boy who has a thing for watching windows, this would rank right up there at number one.”
“Yeah,” he mumbled, his eyes blazing and riveted to the triangle of silk, like if he stared hard enough he’d develop X-ray vision to see just what her fingers were doing. “Right up there, but not number one.”
He ran his fingers up her thighs, and when they came back down, they had her panties with him.
“Don’t stop on my account,” he whispered, and she realized that she had stopped. All of her brazen confidence had fled now that she was completely naked, splayed out for his viewing pleasure, and he was still wearing his jeans.
“Maybe you should lose some of that.” She pointed to his clothes.
“Sugar, that is the only thing keeping this”—he jerked his eyes toward his crotch—“from blowing the identity of dream number one. This.” He leaned forward and delivered an openmouthed kiss directly to her center, causing her hips to buck against his lips. “Yeah, definitely ranks in at number two. But something’s missing.”
Her eyes, which she hadn’t even known had slid shut, flew open at his comment. “Missing?”
“Oh yeah.” He kissed her again, pulling a small noise from her throat. “In my dreams I always imagined you screaming.”
His hands slid under her butt, and he raised her right as his mouth settled on her center. She nearly gave in and screamed when his strong tongue pressed against her in one long lick. This would be over before it ever started, and she wanted it to go on—and on. Especially when he used his lips, his breath, his teeth, each with the perfect amount of pressure and each at the right moment.
Her whole body pulsed with anticipation, so she pushed her heels into the edge of the couch and slapped her palm over her mouth to keep the pressure inside.
Then he delved deeper.
“Oh God!” exploded from her lips, and she bucked up against him while rolling her hips to increase the pressure.
“Oh God,” she said again louder. One last buck and heat shot though her, sending her body into a frenzy as each wave of her orgasm washed over her.
Marc didn’t stop; he just slowed down, applying more kisses than nips. Convinced that she didn’t have a single bone left in her body, Lexi sagged against the back of couch. Eyes closed, heart still racing, she was content to sit and absorb the best orgasm she’d ever had.
In. Her. Life.
Her breath was just returning to normal when she felt Marc’s tongue again. He licked her once, right up the middle, twice, a third time, slowly gaining momentum. She opened her eyes and saw that his brow was furrowed and his eyes were determined.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice trailing off when he blew on her pleasure button.
“In my dream you scream.”
“I did scream.” She even screamed again when his hand joined in the fun.
“My name.” He slid a finger in, smiling at her when she clenched around him. “You scream my name.”
Which she had no problems doing when he moved faster, focusing all of his determination on the smaller bundle of nerves. He circled his tongue right as his finger hit that perfect spot and—
“Yes, yes, God, yes.” Every muscle tightened, tension built, making her back arch. “Marc, please,” she begged, squeezing her thighs against his head. He slid in a second finger, sending a violent jolt of pleasure shattering her body.
“Marc!” she cried out when her body erupted again. She was so spent that when her eyes opened and she caught him smiling at her, all she could manage was a lazy grin in return.
“Was that better?” she asked.
“Hell yeah. Never once in my dream did you ever squeeze your legs so tight around my head that I almost passed out.”
“I did not,” she said, but didn’t feel all that confident in her denial, since her thighs were tender and when she tried to move, she had to stifle a wince. So when Marc kissed his way back up her stomach, she had to admit, “I’m too sore to even move.”
His eyes softened. “That’s my job,” he whispered against her lips and lifted her into his arms.
He carried her down the hallway and into her bedroom. The mattress was cool against her back as Marc laid her down, then sprawled out beside her in all of his naked glory. And glorious he was. His shoulders were wide, his chest wider, and all muscle she noticed as her fingers traced down his pecs to his flat stomach, enjoying how it rippled and beaded beneath her touch. She loved that she had the power to turn him on.
He rolled on his side, resting his head on his bent arm so that he could watch her explore his body. He was a big man…everywhere. And she realized that, although she had had two standing Os, he had yet to have his first.
“Take your time,” he said, reading her mind. “We have all night.”
“I’m done,” she whispered, rising up to kiss him on the lips. She loved how he felt under her hands, but she wanted him inside of her body.
“You sure?” He kissed her back.
She parted her lips and took the kiss deeper, showing him just how sure she was. He followed her lead, moaning when she arched up so that just the tip of his erection pressed against her heat. She did it again, tilting her hips so that the tip slid in just enough that he jerked back.
“Condom,” he said, tearing open the package on the bedside table and rolling it on. Then he laced their hands together and brought them above her. “And I get to do all the work, remember?”
She didn’t even get to argue because he pushed inside her in one slow movement and then they were both too busy sighing to speak. They lay utterly silent, enjoying the intimate connection.
“God, sugar. You feel so right,” Marc whispered into the curve of her neck, and she felt her heart open a little more. Because it did feel right, so incredibly right, and yet she wasn’t scared of what that meant anymore.
Marc pulled all the way out and then slowly sank back in. The exquisite sensation made her moan; it also made her spine curl so she could take him deeper. Marc pulled back and caressed the back of her knee, lifting her leg to wrap it around his waist before pushing back in.
“Yes,” she moaned.
“Yes, what?” he said, half joking but half serious.
“Yes, Marc,” she played along, happy when she was adequately rewarded.
He picked up the pace, never rough or hard like she would have thought. No, everything about Marc was smooth and unhurried and made her feel cherished—beautiful. He worshipped her body with his hands while whispering sweet things to her, and every time she felt him get close, he pulled back and slowed down.
Lexi had always enjoyed sex, but she realized that she had never been made love to until now. Until Marc.
“You are so beautiful,” he said, staring down into her eyes, making sure that she was right there with him, enjoying every second. She was. She enjoyed every kiss, every touch, every time he filled her.
She ran her hands down his back and grabbed his ass, pulling him closer. “More.”
“Thank God,” he mumbled, taking her mouth with his. His hips moved faster, deeper, and right when she knew that he couldn’t hold back any longer, he groaned out her name. Her whole name.
Just the sound of her name falling off his lips, rough and raw, took her over the edge. She broke apart in his arms as he gave a final push before collapsing on top of her. They were a tangle of arms and legs, panting and sweaty, and yet Marc took care to make sure he didn’t crush her.
A few minutes later he asked, “You okay?” When she didn’t answer, he lifted his head. “I’ll take that smile on your face to be a yes.”
She nodded, and he rolled off her and went to the bathroom. Returning to bed, he immediately pulled her close. He brushed her hair aside and pressed a warm kiss on her forehead.
“I assume that was your number-one dream.”
“I thought it was. But now I think I’ll have a new one.”
