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She shook he head. “No. That’s not my responsibility. You can’t put it all on me. If you want to come back, do it because you want to be there.”
He smiled. “Okay. I will. But you’re the reason I want to be there, and if you decide you don’t want me, then you tell me to go, and I will.”
She cupped his face between her hands and pulled him down to kiss her. She didn’t want to think about it all or talk about it all. She wanted to get back to enjoying being together again. They needed to have some fun and spend time just being before they could know if there was any reason for them to get into discussing where he should live and why.
It started out as a distraction; kissing was better than talking. But it soon became more than that. His kiss became more passionate, more demanding, and she matched him. She pressed her body against him, and his arms tightened around her, crushing her to his chest. His mouth claimed hers. She opened up to him and kissed him back, exploring him, relearning the way their lips fit together, and their tongues mated as if they’d never been apart.
He slid one hand down over her ass and pressed his hips against her. His erection pressed into her belly, making her wish she were taller. She broke away from the kiss. “I want you, Marcos.”
His eyes were dark with lust, but he shook his head slowly. “Are you sure? Is it too soon?”
She let out a short laugh. “Probably, but I don’t care. I want you. I’ve dreamed about making love to you again for years.”
He took hold of her hand and started walking back up the beach to the cabin. “I’ve dreamed about it, too, Molly. But I can wait if that’s better.”
She laughed. “Yeah, right! That’s why you’re marching me back up there.”
He hung his head and gave her a shame-faced smile—and didn’t break his pace to do so. “If you want to wait, I can wait. But I don’t want to.”
“Good, because neither do I.”
When they reached the cabin, she unlocked the door with shaking hands, and Marcos pushed it open. As soon as they were inside, he backed her against the wall and reclaimed her mouth in a kiss even more passionate than before. He was making love to her mouth with his tongue. The thought turned her on. She grasped his ass and started moving him against her, loving the feel of him pressing into her.
He pulled back and took her hand again. “The bed.” He nodded and blew out a big sigh. “After all these years, I think we should wait the few extra minutes it will take to get to the bed and get undressed.”
Molly nodded and closed the bedroom door behind them before she started pulling his T-shirt up and over his head. “I agree. As long as it doesn’t take more than two minutes.”
He chuckled and eyed her T-shirt. “Don’t worry, it won’t.” He pulled her shirt up and off, and shivers ran down her spine as he fixed his gaze on her breasts.
“Hold on.” She managed to get his jeans unfastened and started to push them down before he unfastened her bra. She knew time would pause for a while once he did that. He’d always been a breasts guy, and hers had grown since he’d last seen them.
He stood back and let out a long, low whistle as he closed his hands around them. “Hello, ladies. Have I missed you?! And I hope it’s not rude of me to say, but you look like you’ve gained some weight.”
Electric shocks went zapping through her from the place where his big, warm hands closed around her heavy breasts, straight to the warm place between her legs that was hoping it, too, would get some of his attention soon.
~ ~ ~
Marcos closed his eyes and savored the feel of her breasts in his hands. He wasn’t joking when he’d said he’d dreamed about this moment—and the answer to his question was yes, he had thought about her breasts, about every naked inch of her in the years since they’d been together. Now she was here. Not only was she here, but she was almost naked, and she was pushing at his boxers trying to get him naked too. In a matter of moments, their clothes were gone, and he managed to lay her down gently on the bed. It was tough, but he resisted the need to throw her down and take her the way he wanted to. This was the first time—hopefully, their last first time. He wanted to make it special.
He chuckled to himself as she rolled on top of him. Her dark hair fanned out over his chest as she kissed him, working her way down his stomach to … no! He hooked his hands under her arms and pulled her back up. “You know I can’t, Molly. You first. It’s always you first.”
She smiled and sat up. She was so damned beautiful it took his breath away. Her eyes were shining, her hair all mussed up, her breasts leaning toward him as she leaned in to kiss him again—on the mouth this time. “You’d better hurry up about it then.” She knelt and reached down between her legs, closing her fingers around him and guiding him toward her. He closed his eyes. If she wanted to ride him, who was he to argue?
She stroked herself with the tip of him, making them both sigh. He closed his hands around her hips and lifted her to receive him. Then, with one thrust of his hips, he was inside her, back inside the tight, velvety wetness that haunted so many of his dreams. She gasped and began to ride him wildy. There was no question that this would be slow, leisurely love-making. This wasn’t about getting to know each other again in the most intimate way. No. It was frantic, almost desperate melding of two bodies and souls who had been away from each other for far too long—who had starved and almost died without the other.
He hung on to her hips and thrust up to meet her over and over again, reaching deeper inside her each time she closed around him. He was mesmerized watching her heavy breasts bounce just above his face. He wanted to touch them, to lick, to suck, but all he could do was go along on the wild ride that was hurtling both too quickly toward its inevitable conclusion.
“Marcos!” she gasped as he felt her tighten around him. “Marcos. I … I … Oh, yes! Yes!”
He felt her orgasm take her and drove deeper, determined to give her all she could take. He closed his eyes as she clenched him tight until he surrendered and wave after wave of pleasure crashed through him. Their bodies melded into one as they reached their crescendo and then finally she slumped down on his shoulder, breathing hard.
“Wow,” she muttered next to his ear.
“Wow,” he agreed, closing his arms around her. “You haven’t lost your touch.” As he said it, it made him wish he hadn’t. It made him wonder how she’d stayed so good—who she might have stayed in practice with over the years.
She lifted her head and looked down into his eyes. “It must be muscle memory. I haven’t done this in a long time.”
That reassured him a little—even though he had no right to feel the way he did. How could he feel possessive or jealous of her past when he was the one who’d left her—and married someone else?
