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“What is it?” he asks when a frustrated groan parts my lips. “Am I hurting you?”
Is it okay for me to tell him where to go or what I want? I don’t exactly know the proper etiquette, but I want to be present with him, allowing us both satisfaction without questions spinning in my head.
His hand stills. “We aren’t a couple of teenagers, Heather. There’s no reason to play guessing games.” Sliding the side of one finger through my seam, he rumbles, “Tell me exactly what you need, when you need it, and I will give it to you.”
My hand grips his wrist as I guide him up to my clit. “Here, please.”
A shudder wracks his upper body, jolting straight through the bundle of nerves he pinches and rolls. “This is what you wanted?”
Head falling back, I grip his forearms and moan his name.
I’m awarded a deep, proud chuckle as he splits his fingers and runs them along either side, spreading my entrance before diving in and back up again, repeatedly. “Now I know you can be louder than that.”
“Marcus!” His name echoes through the trees. “Just like that,yes.”
“Would you look at that,” he utters huskily, “she does listen.”
Arrogant ass.
But I don’t pause to mince words. I’m too busy swiping around for him beneath the surface.
He bats my hand away, continuing to stroke me to the edge. His powerful body supports me as he snatches both my wrists and roughly pins them to the muddy stone above my head. “You can touch my cock once you’ve given me what I’m after.”
Dear god, where did he learn to talk like that?
My eyes slam shut with the sensations he’s culling from me, and with every retreat, I grip him harder.
“Come,” he says frankly, stroking me to climax like his life depends on it.
Thighs slamming together, I hold his hand in place, and with an explosion of blistering, prickly vibrations, I do exactly that.
“Heather.” A cold blast replaces his fingers as he removes them from my bottoms, and after lowering my wrists, he places a kiss on my sweat-damp brow. “It’s painful how fucking beautiful you are.”
“Please,” I murmur, unable to meet his stare. “Please don’t say things you don’t mean. We have an understanding now. There’s no need to sway me.”
“Look at me.” Marcus pulls back to notch my chin up, and I scour his gaze for all the lies I wish were there, only to come up empty. “What reason would I have to deceive you? You’re stunning, inspiring, and if you don’t believe me, I’ll gladly take my time proving it to you.”
My heart pitches, nearly slipping right out my chest to happily bounce into his palm.
A slow-building grin graces his lips. “Now, where were we?”
Half-swimming, half-stepping, he cradles me as he carries me through the river. Searching for our four-legged friends, I spot Sparrow grazing through the trees while Jango chases birds ahead of her. And thank god for that, because the last thing I need is the pair getting nosy about what’s about to go down.
I expect Marcus to stop and release me, but he’s on a mission as he heads for the blanket we spread out on the shoreline. The quilt is refreshingly sun-warmed when he gently lies me on my back, but when he stands to remove his swim trunks, he pauses with a note of caution.
“I can’t afford any accidents.”
His intent is clear. He can’t further damage his reputation by knocking up the stranger next door, and I ignore all the tinglies that follow such an outrageous idea.
“We’re covered,” I promise him. “I’m on the pill.”
His thumbs hook inside the front of his shorts, and the bulging outline of his erection makes my toes curl. I grip the blanket once he tugs them down, watching it bob free.
“Marcus,” I whisper because fuck me, how can it lookthatgood?
My legs tremble as he eclipses me. Droplets of water splash from the tips of his hair onto my naked breasts, and he thoroughly sucks each drop from my skin before shirking the tangled top off completely, leaving me covered by nothing but my bikini bottoms.
“You once gave me a list of reasons why you hated me,” he breathes, “but I’ve made one for you.”
