“Especially tonight,” she said, her face pressed against his chest. “You probably didn’t notice, but the storm…the night…it’s like—”
“The night of the crash,” Marc whispered hoarsely.
Her heart seemed to swell at his words. So, he had noticed the similarity of tonight to the one where their lives had been cleaved apart.
He put his fingers beneath her chin. He lifted her head until she looked up at him. She saw her own raw need reflected in his eyes.
He leaned down and caught a tear with firm, grazing lips. His eyes were open, watching…gauging her reaction as he rained kisses on her cheek and jaw, drying her tears, wetting his mouth with her sorrow. When he brushed his lips near the corner of her mouth, she turned to meet him.
She felt him stiffen as though an electric shock had gone through him when their lips touched. She sensed the steel edge of male desire that had leaped into his muscles. He softly sandwiched her lower lip between both of his own, parting her mouth, molding their lips together in a delicious kiss. Mari’s eyes fluttered closed as a sensual languor weighted her limbs and heat expanded at her core.
She hungrily slicked the tip of her tongue along the seam of his mouth. A wild satisfaction tore through her when he groaned, deep and rough, and pulled her closer, pressing her tight to his body, taking her mouth in a possessive kiss.
Why was she doing this? She’d told him she wanted to be cautious. Yet here, in this moment, she felt nothing but glorious triumph that she’d inspired such a wholehearted, total response from Marc.
All his former tentativeness evaporated as he boldly explored her. Their flavors mingled, acting like an intoxicant on her brain. One hand clenched mindlessly at his T-shirt, while the other reached and knotted in the thick hair at the base of his skull. Her back arched as he leaned down over her and completely claimed her. Both of his hands coasted up her back, simultaneously mapping her shape and stroking her.
He paused, both of his large hands spread across her ribs as though he held her heart in his hands. She moaned in rising need. He answered her call and caressed a breast. She moved back slightly, granting him more access. He sealed their wild kiss and lifted his head, watching her with blazing eyes, his nostrils slightly flared. He pressed an aching nipple to the center of his palm and closed his hand over her, gently kneading.
She felt his body tighten and harden in response to that intimate caress. It only fueled her mounting need. When he transferred his fingertips to the erect crest and gently charted the topography of her nipple through the thin fabric, desire ripped through her. She found herself jerking up his T-shirt, desperate for the sensation of his bare skin.
He made a rough sound in his throat. The next thing she knew he was lifting her in his arms. Lightning flashed in the dark, old house, and thunder answered in a ferocious roar. Neither of them spoke as he carried her up first one flight of stairs and then another. Words couldn’t contain the fullness of that taut, burning anticipation, a powerful tension that demanded release.
Mari waved at the second door on the left—her old bedroom—her gaze never leaving Marc’s.
Buffeted by the wind, the sheer curtains billowed inward when they entered the room. Marc laid her on the bed. When he straightened, Mari’s hands flew to the buttons on her dress. He moved quickly, grabbing her wrists and halting her.
“No. I’m going to do it.” His low, rough voice made goose bumps rise on her arms and her nipples tighten. “Just give me a second.”
He began to undress. The light leaked in from the downstairs hallway and allowed her to admire the sight of him as he went about his business with rapid efficiency. She was glad; she wanted him to hurry.
She didn’t want logic to wriggle into her awareness. Not at this moment.
She knew Marc had shared her desire for haste when he began to strip out of his shoes and cargo shorts like he though his life depended on being naked. Her breath stuck in her lungs at the site of him standing and whipping his T-shirt off with a flex of lean, dense muscle. She eyed the shadow of light brown hair on his chest, following its trail to where it disappeared in his white boxer briefs.
“You’re so beautiful.”
He glanced up at her shaky whisper.
“No
. You’re the beautiful one,” he said.
The dim light allowed her to see the feral glint in his eyes as his gaze traveled over the length of her. His haste seemed to mount, given the rapid manner in which he finished stripping. Mari glanced down when he stood before her. It hurt a little to look at him; he was so beautiful—proud and elementally male. The room flashed with brilliant white light, and thunder seemed to rattle the very air they breathed.
He sat on the bed next to her. Spellbound, Mari watched him. She couldn’t draw breath as he unfastened her dress to the waist. He carefully peeled back the sides of the fabric, exposing her breasts. She convulsed with raw emotion when he just stared at her, his face intent, as though he wanted to take the image to his grave.
“Hurry, Marc,” she whispered hoarsely.
His gaze leaped to hers, as if he’d caught her meaning. Who better to understand her desperation at that moment? Their joining had been interrupted fifteen years ago by news of mind-numbing loss.
But that was another night. Not this one.
His fingers moved fleetly at her plea. He drew the dress down over her legs then skimmed one hand down her buttock and thigh before reaching for her panties.
“I could never get over how soft you were,” he muttered as he rid her of her underwear. She saw how rigid his face was as bent over her. “I always knew you were mine from the first time I touched you.”
“Marc,” she murmured desperately. Her desire almost hurt it was so strong. The night in Chicago had been wild, but this was a fiercer need that tore at her.