All the years that had gone by faded, and it suddenly felt like it was only yesterday that I had last touched him, only yesterday that he had last touched me.
In that moment, I suddenly remembered how he made me feel—-
Oh how vividly I remembered, and I felt bad-girl-Anneke slithering into life inside of me, whispering one word.
More.
My gaze slowly met Marcus’, and I almost whimpered at the lust that glittered in his eyes.
This was bad. This was wrong. But this was also what I wanted.
“I’m yours—-”
Marcus sucked in his breath.
And I heard myself whisper, “I’m yours...any way you want.”
His eyes widened.
Crap. Oh God. Crap. What had I just said? Crap.
But even so, I found myself moving towards him—-
“Anneke.” My name came out in a low rasp as I touched his chest.
My hand came to rest against his hard, smooth body, and I exerted just enough pressure to let him know what I wanted him to do.
Marcus heeded the silent request, slowly leaning back against the couch while his narrowed dark eyes remained on my face.
My hand slowly traveled down.
“Marcus.”His name came out a purr—-
Oh my God. Crap. Oh God. Was that really my voice?
He jerked.
Crap, oh, crap, why I really going to do this?
Marcus caught my hand just when I reached for his belt.
I licked my lips.
He cursed.
His grip on my wrist tightened. “Do you really want to do this?”
“D-don’t you want me to?”
His fingers slowly loosened, and I had my answer.
Oh my God, crap, someone stop me.
Moving back, I knelt down on the rug, my body fitting in the space between his legs. When I reached for his belt again, a part of me expected Marcus to say no, to stop me—-
Please stop me.
But he did none of those.