32
Marcus stood back, observing her, following her fingers as they raked through the ends of her matted hair, squeezing the residual water with a towel.
This was an intimate act of voyeurism that he had never indulged in before. He’d never felt the need to hang around after sex and was unconcerned with what women did once the deed was done.
But now, with Lana, there was an odd feeling lingering in his chest like he wanted to make her laugh, or he wanted to help her dry the soaking locks clinging her bare shoulders.
“So, what’s the craic between you and the fiancé?” Her wedding finger was diamond-free and his patience had worn thin now he’d had her all to himself.
Her eyes dawdled at the tattoo across his heart, X-XI-MCMLXXXVII.
Patting her arms with a towel she sighed lightly. “I shouldn’t have agreed to marry him. We’ve been growing apart for some time now. I just didn’t want to admit it.”
Lana dropped the towel to her feet and stepped into him, pressing her hips into his thighs. She traced the outline of his tattoo, pausing her finger over his heart.
“Or, maybe I only realised how I felt when a certain sexy as fuck man forced me to climax in his office,” she whispered, then tugged his nipple with her teeth.
A low masculine chuckle reverberated in his chest and he cupped her cheeks with his palms. “You loved every bit of it, beautiful.”
“Yeah, I did, and you knew it.”
Propped up on tiptoes, she ran her tongue along the dip in his throat, initiating another excruciating hard on. It nudged the smooth skin of her belly and she inhaled sharply.
Scattering tiny kisses from his nipple to his tattoo, she stopped over the black ink. “What does this stand for?”
His back stiffened. “It’s the date of my mother’s death, 10 November 1987. The date my life changed forever.”
Lana gasped, her eyes bugged, and she pressed her palms into his chest, angling herself backward.
“Marcus.” Those wide baby blues never left the inked numerals.
“What, Lana? What’s wrong?” His chest tightened at her reaction.
“I was born on 11 November 1987 – the day after.”
He stood still, their silence swallowed a frenzy of thoughts. Marcus breathed deeply and his jaw tightened. Standing before him, she looked small and fragile, perfect and sexy.
He had studied her contract and personal documents more than once, yet he failed to notice her date of birth because he’d been too consumed with the fact she belonged to another man.
Were they connected by the universe in some fucked up way?
This was too much. The emotions dancing in his chest were out of control. This was unexpected, all of it. Instead of getting his fill of Lana Craig, he wanted more.
Now Lana, or fate, or whatever the hell it was had just added his mother into the mix. He cleared his throat. “I’ll leave you to get sorted. Once you’re ready, come and find me in the stables.” He jerked a hand through his hair.
Lana tugged him closer as he tried to step away. She pressed her lips lightly to the ink and peered up at him through sexy ebony lashes that fluttered with a come-hither sweep.
He dished out a tight smile, unsure how to react. Snaking her hands around his neck, she lifted to the balls of her feet. Soft wet kisses teased his stubbled cheek, reaching his mouth.
Her lips clung to his, invoking a shiver that spread from his scalp and ended at the base of his spine.
Lana would be his ruin.
“See you at the stables,” she whispered, dropping her arms and chewing the inside of her mouth.
He nodded quietly and sauntered out the door with a towel wrapped around his hips and his thoughts buried.