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She wanted to feel invincible, and she realized that only he could do that for her.
As she kissed him over and over again, she could feel him weakening, feel him giving in to the strong wave of desire that had washed over both of them.
But then, just as surprisingly, just as she had pushed his jacket off his shoulders and down his arms while he had begun to undress her, too, Bowie abruptly stopped.
Stunned, bereft, she looked at him, confused and hurt. Was he rejecting her? Didn’t he want her? Marlowe wanted to flee, to hide, but instead, she made herself stand her ground.
“What’s wrong?” she asked him in a shaken voice.
He wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything. More than he wanted to breathe, but he couldn’t just consider his own needs in this.
His eyes searched her face. “Marlowe, are you sure about this?”
For a moment, she was speechless. And then the sunshine slowly returned.
“Do you want me to fill out an application?” she asked him.
“I just don’t want you to regret this in the morning,” he told her.
“What I’ll regret in the morning,” she told him, “is if you stop now.”
H
e searched her face again, looking for the flaw in her statement. He found none. She was being serious, and everything inside of him lit up.
“Then let’s make sure you have no regrets,” he told her in a low voice that instantly seduced her.
The time for words was over. Now there were just very deep-seated emotions finally rising to the surface, seeking release. Seeking validation after being suppressed for what felt like an eternity.
Within seconds, it felt exactly the way it had that night at the conference. Except this time, there would be no gaps waiting to be filled in, no spaces that needed something to complete them.
This was all happening just the way it was meant to happen.
The hunger seemed to rise up suddenly, coming from his very toes and sweeping over him in a breath-stealing rush. It was making demands that had him all but shaking inside.
He hadn’t admitted to himself just how much he had wanted her. How much he wanted to hold her, kiss her and, most of all, make love with her until he was just too tired to breathe.
Bowie hadn’t wanted to admit it because something within him felt that admission would somehow undermine him, shackling him to something he didn’t want to be shackled to.
But he wanted this.
Wanted her.
The moment he allowed the thought to form in his mind, Bowie suddenly felt as if he was free. Free to finally be himself and to enjoy this all-too-fleeting revelry that was throbbing so hard throughout his entire body.
“Are you all right?” he asked, looming over her and eager to continue. But he wanted to be very sure that he was taking nothing for granted, wasn’t allowing his own needs to blind him to any possible discomfort on Marlowe’s part.
Marlowe blinked, perplexed. “Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked.
“Your stomach, the baby...” he said, letting his voice drift off in case he had left something else out.
Her eyes smiled at him. “My stomach, thanks to the chicken soup from Lucia’s, feels wonderfully calm for the first time in a while. As for the baby, it’s cheering you on,” she told him with a laugh. “So whatever you do,” she said, her voice dropping to an enticing whisper, “don’t stop.”
“Then I won’t,” Bowie told her, his words gliding along the hollow of her throat.
His smile seemed to burrow right into her, lighting up her very soul.
His lips and hands seemed to be everywhere at once, touching her, pleasing her, making her ache for more. And all the while, she couldn’t help wondering how she had managed to go so long without this after having sampled it that very first time the night their baby was conceived. She felt like a giant jigsaw puzzle that had just been put back together after an endless wait.
