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Trusting in him completely, Marquetta rode him just as the image in her mind illustrated. If she were a whimsical person, she’d think Jensen had somehow managed to slip the erotic picture into her head like magic. Her needs and wants seemed completely in tune with his.
Squeezing her thighs and then releasing, she littered kisses across his chest, tonguing the tattoos that covered his upper chest and shoulder. Jensen cursed. It was the best kind of feeling to bring such a strong, delicious man to his knees. There was no coaxing and no uncomfortable shyness. Only bodies moving as electric currents zipped through her and gathered into a ball of pure pleasure.
Without warning, Jensen dove headfirst into the most intense orgasm of his life, and Marquetta followed right behind him over that same rocky cliff. Several seconds sped by, both of them out of breath and sweating, before he pulled free of her slick heat. He left the bed to dispose of the rubber, then grabbed a washcloth and ran warm water over it. He brought it back to Marquetta. When he saw her lying in the center of his bed, all dreamy-eyed and replete, he burned for her all over again.
As he gently slid the cloth over her pussy, Marquetta’s eyes popped open, and she stiffened. “What are you doing?”
“Taking care of you,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss to her
forehead.
“Oh,” she said, as if it was a new sensation for her.
“It’s something I intend to do often,” he promised. He cleaned and soothed her swollen flesh before tossing the cloth to the floor. He slipped into bed next to her and pulled her close, unable to hide the evidence of his arousal. “I want you again,” he whispered against her hair.
She chuckled. “I feel that, but you wore me out.”
“Then you’d better recoup fast, because I’m far from finished with you, beautiful.”
When her breathing evened out, Jensen knew she was asleep. Ah hell, he’d been such a damn fool to think he could have sex with Marquetta, then simply walk away. There was no chance of that happening now. But what was this for Marquetta? A good time or more? Did she think they’d hook up and then go their separate ways? Christ, probably.
In the past, that would’ve suited Jensen just fine. But he couldn’t lose her. She was irrevocably his, and somehow he’d figure out how to keep her.
Chapter Eight
Marquetta was in a full-fledged panic. As she attempted to sit up, every muscle in her body seemed sore and achy, even a few spots she’d all but forgotten about. Adjusting to the bright Monday-morning light streaming in through the large bedroom window, she realized two things. The first was that she’d made mad, passionate love to Jensen Kershaw, and it had been the single most wonderful experience of her entire adult life. The second: she’d gone and fallen in love with the tall, handsome man.
It was right about then that she quietly and cowardly left the bed where Jensen lay deliciously sprawled and unconscious. She tiptoed to the bathroom, flipped on the light, then stared at her own reflection. At least she thought that was Marquetta Hayes staring back at her. Heck, she barely recognized herself. She looked all rosy and mussed and sated. Of course, she had Jensen to thank for that, she thought with a dreamy sigh.
Frowning at the romantic and fanciful nature she’d worked so hard to repress, Marquetta mentally gave herself a thwack upside the head. Now what on earth was she supposed to do? She should’ve known she couldn’t spend such a delightful evening with the most perfect man she’d ever met, then just walk away without a scratch. She knew herself better. Fan-freaking-tastic.
Oh sure, last night she’d done a good job of convincing herself she was in dire need of some hot, sweaty sex, but in the bright light of day, there was no denying the obvious. Her feelings toward him had solidified when Jensen had taken her to heaven and beyond with his ardent loving. She allowed herself to recognize she’d blissfully flung open her heart and given him a huge chunk of it.
And there was only one thing to do.
Slink away like the pathetic fool she was. She just needed to be out before Jensen woke, because there was no way she could face him. She’d opened her mind as well as her heart to him. Seriously, the very last thing her heart could take right now would be the awkward, don’t-call-me, I’ll-call-you thing. And she just might have to get violent if Jensen gave her that same pitying look Sheldon had. Marquetta couldn’t handle seeing that same expression on Jensen’s handsomely chiseled face.
She knew now what she had felt for Sheldon had been nothing more than young love. With Jensen… Jensen fell into an entirely different category. Her stomach knotted and her heart squeezed tight with the thought of him seeing her in the same sad light that Sheldon had viewed her. Like some poor, pathetic girl who’d gone and lost her heart.
Carefully, so as not to rouse Jensen, Marquetta opened the door to the bathroom. When she saw he was still sound asleep, she tiptoed out of his bedroom and down the stairs. When she spotted her clothes on the living room floor, she slipped into her dress. Her panties were beyond repair, and she just didn’t feel like bothering with her bra. She located her purse and found her car keys buried inside.
She looked around the room and wondered if this was one of those times where a note was in order. Marquetta had never done the note thing, but then she’d never had a one-nighter either.
She grabbed her pen and an old grocery list from inside her purse and started scribbling out an “it was great, thanks bunches” when her eyes began to fill with tears.
Well, she’d almost made it home before the waterworks started.
She swiped at her face and propped the note against a lamp on an end table. She flung her purse over her shoulder and turned around. Oops. Too late. Sleeping Beast was now fully conscious and leaning against the doorway to the living room. He scowled at her as if he wanted to spank her senseless. And wouldn’t you just know that instead of feeling indignant over the idea, her body betrayed her by turning all warm and tingly. Drat it, had she no self-control at all where this man was concerned?
He started toward her and in a low, deadly voice, growled, “Going somewhere, sweetheart?”
His yummy five o’clock shadow and bare feet did a number on her. His naked chest beckoned her fingers to reach out and stroke it. He wore only a pair of well-worn jeans, and she wanted to have at him. To jump his bones all over again. Dang it, one night should have held her over. She’d even been prepared to use that one delicious night to console herself during a lot more lonely ones she knew were yet to come.
As he kept up his slow advance, Jensen asked, “Did you forget that you’re mine? There will be no scribbling out a Dear John note and walking out the door. I won’t let you go that easily.” When she only glowered at him, he smiled. “Fair warning, sweetheart, I can be very determined when I see something I want.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, well aware she wasn’t wearing her bra, and addressed him as if he were an unruly teenager. “Well, it’s too late, Tarzan. The note’s been written, and I’m leaving.”
Jensen reached out and stroked his fingers over her absurdly tangled hair. “Christ, when I woke and found you gone, I nearly lost it.” She started to protest, but he refused to let her. “Haven’t you figured out yet that this thing between us is different? It’s special.”
