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I swallowed down a dozen emotions, kissing her forehead for the briefest moment.
With her legs still wrapped around my waist, I carried her through the living room and down the hall, not bothering to turn on the lights. Somewhere along the way, she dropped her purse and shrugged off her jacket.
Turning into the room, I found the lights and let Marin slip down to the floor. I took a moment to look around, finding crisp white bedding and matching curtains. There were tons of pillows piled on top of the bed in shades of blue that all coordinated with paintings that lined the walls.
“You must have just hung these,” I said, recognizing several from the night before.
She nodded. “I wanted the room to look”—she paused—“different.”
She wanted it to be hers.
“Your paintings, Marin.” My eyes swept the room. “They’re incredible.You’reincredible.”
When I finally turned back to her, I realized she hadn’t been following my tour of the room; she was just watching me.
“You make me feel incredible.”
I took a step forward, pulling her into my embrace. “I can make you feel all kinds of things,” I promised. “You just have to tell me what you want.”
I felt a shiver run down her spine.
“What do you want, Marin?”
Her eyes met mine, that sweet blush painting her cheeks. “Everything,” she answered. “I want to feel everything.”
Good answer.
Our lips met in a frenzied kiss as my fingers swept through her hair. Her arms wrapped around my neck as I pushed her backward until her knees hit the edge of the bed.
“I need you naked.” My voice was rough, and heavy with need.
“You first,” she said, her brow lifting in challenge.
Oh, I liked this side of Marin—that wild side of her that had been dormant for so long. The side of her that now only belonged to me.
“All right,” I agreed.
She sat on the bed, sliding back until her head hit all those pillows resting against the headboard. She leaned back on her elbows and waited.
“Comfortable?”
She made a point to take one leg and throw it over the other. “Very.” And then she added, “Proceed.”
“Trying to make me feel bashful?” I asked as I pulled my shirt up and over my head.
Her gaze moved downward, over my pecs and down toward the deep V of my hips.
“There’s not a bashful bone in your body.”
Her teeth bit down on her bottom lip as my hands reached for my belt buckle. “No, I’m just making things even.”
“Even?” I pulled the leather back, undoing the loop on my belt.
She watched every movement intently.
“You had me very naked last night. And you were not. Seems only fair,” she said with a shrug.
“I was shirtless,” I reminded her as I slowly unbuttoned my jeans.
