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She looked around. “So where do you want to do this? Right here? On this couch?”
He smiled. “Actually, I’d like to be in the place where you came to me every night in what we both thought was a dream.”
She smiled but a blush suffused her cheeks. “Your bed.”
“My bed. You don’t know how much I’ve wanted you there and Havily, I want you to know that I’ve never brought a woman to this house before. This place for me was, is, sacred.”
She smiled and once more put her hand on his face. She leaned forward and kissed him.
When she drew back, he slid her off his lap, and as he stood up he lifted her to her feet at the same time. He could have folded her to the bedroom but for some reason he wanted to lead her there. He turned in the direction of the stairs by the entry. She followed him, her free hand on his forearm. She stroked her fingers lightly over the muscle. His heart swelled again, that strange sensation he knew now to be his yearning for her, his love for her.
Yes, he loved her.
That which hides in the heart
Must be brought to light
And Forgiven
—Collected Proverbs, Beatrice of Fourth
Chapter 25
Havily held on to Marcus, her right hand in his, her left hand latched onto his muscled forearm. He was her tether right now as she followed him up the stairs. The skylight above was a mixture of light and emerging stars. She remembered the summer nights, the twilights that lasted for hours in the Pacific Northwest.
When she entered his bedroom, she knew she’d been here before if only in the darkening. The room was exactly as she remembered it.
“Havily, there’s one thing I have to do first.” He released her hand, turned into her, and planted his hands on her waist. She watched his gaze fall to her cle**age. “Your dress has been tormenting me for hours.”
She gasped at the wild, intent look in his eyes. Fennel rushed at her. He slid his hands low around her hips, dipped down, and put his mouth in a warm wet assault on the swell of her br**sts.
Oh. My. God.
She drew a deep breath through her nose, which sent all that rich fennel straight into her brain. Desire cascaded over her body, tingling the tips of her fingers, sending chills down her arms and her back, making her feet arch even in her stilettos. She moaned as he pushed her back—his favorite move—only this time in the direction of the bed until her legs touched the mattress. He lowered her down, one hand supporting her across her shoulders, until the upper half of her body was on the bed. The lower half she supported with her heels square on the carpet, the tips of her stilettos digging in.
He pulled at the shoulders of her dress until the straps were hanging down her arms. In quick, practiced, but almost desperate maneuvers, he freed both br**sts from her dress then her bra. He settled onto her left breast, his hands molding the flesh as he devoured her with his mouth, kissing, licking, suckling hard. At the same time, he plucked and pulled and rubbed the other.
She arched off the bed, which encouraged him to take more of her breast into his mouth. She whimpered and buried her hands in his hair. “Marcus” left her lips in a moan.
He drew back suddenly, his eyes fierce. “Turn over,” he barked.
She leaned up on her elbows. “Why?”
His eyes once more fell to half-mast and he murmured. “Does it matter? Have you ever disliked anything I’ve done to you?”
She gasped and without demur flipped over so that she was facedown. Why wasn’t she surprised that, before she could protest, he ripped her gown straight down the middle of the back, ignoring the zipper that was right there.
“You didn’t like this dress?” she asked, smiling, her cheek pressed into the comforter. She knew what his answer would be.
He growled. “I liked this dress too much and so did all the other men in that room. Every time one of them looked at your chest, I was ready to draw my sword.”
Havily shouldn’t have enjoyed the sensation so much, but she trembled all over at this absurd demonstration of testosterone. He kept tugging the dress until he had jerked it off her arms, down her abdomen, and pulled it from her hips. She now lay facedown in a black silk thong and thigh-high black stockings, the tops laced with red ribbon. He unclasped her bra and that, too, got tugged off her body until she rocked from side to side and was laughing.
She heard another displacement of clothing. His. Oh. God.
She wrenched her head around and watched as he shucked his shirt, slacks, shoes, and socks. His briefs were tented, which of course made her groan. He caught the angle of her gaze and slowly slid the Calvins down until what she wanted most sprang free. He stepped out of his briefs and moved in behind her.
Spread your legs, he sent.
How wicked to be so on display for him. She felt his warm fleshy hand on her thong and with a whisper of thought folded her panties away. Now he could see every bit of her. She moved her hips from side to side.
He groaned then moved between her legs, and the hardest part of him teased the opening to her core. You’re wet drifted through her mind, his voice in her head an erotic thrill.
You’re here, she responded. What else would I be?
He planted his hands on her waist then smoothed his palms over her bu**ocks, up her hips, over her back. She writhed as his fingers played over the sensitive wing-locks. She cried out. Each touch sent shards of pleasure straight to her core. She clenched.
His hands moved off her back until he had one planted to each side of her. She felt his hips on her bu**ocks first, then his mouth, as he kissed one of her wing-locks. She jerked at the sensation.
You like? he asked. He licked the delicate aperture.
Oh, God, was the only response she could think to send.
He settled in with his tongue and little cries erupted from her throat. Her body undulated. A wave of fennel wafted over her. He teased her opening with the crown of his cock, but never quite made his way inside even though she pushed back with her hips, inviting him. What a tease he was.
He shifted his body to the side just a little. She felt the weight of his arm across her upper back as his free hand drifted down her bu**ocks. His fingers teased all the fully exposed, sensitive flesh. He played at her opening and when she groaned, he thrust two fingers inside hard. She cried out and he became a machine of movement as his arm worked her body like a piston, shoving his fingers inside and pulling them out, over and over, until she was clenching hard. At the same time, at the same time, his mouth moved over the same wing-lock, teasing, tasting. He suckled and bit. Moans left her mouth. Her body was on fire.
