“Do what?”
The cotton molded to her chest, rose and dipped in the most attractive places. Aware of how hard he was, how hot under his clothes, he feared his own instincts when she set the brush on the nightstand and directed her full attention on him.
“I’m not Marissa,” she said, coming toward him.
He liked how candid she was. How she smiled with her eyes. How she walked. Talked. No, she was not Marissa.
Getting a grip of his thoughts, he shook his head. “I didn’t say that.” But it would be worse with her. If she ever hurt him. Deceived him. Betrayed him. He’d never trusted so fully, had never felt so many things at once.
“Marcos,” she said softly. Her eyes were examining his stiff shoulders, the stony mask on his face, as she halted before him. He was shocked at the raw emotion shining in her eyes. Not only desire. But tenderness. Concern. Caring.
Caring that tugged at some little strings inside him.
Caring that begged him to care, too.
Damn.
She was his lover. He had a right to touch her, take her, come with the pleasure of being inside her. It was all this was. Lust.
Lust lust lust.
“Never—” He could hardly speak as he lifted a hand to her silky, raven hair. She gasped at the touch, went very still.
“—ever—” he said gruffly, and tangled his fingers, fisted that lovely hair in his hand, using his knuckles to push her head up to where his lips waited “—lie to me.”
He took her gasp, rubbed her lips farther apart, and traced their seam with his tongue. They were flavored with toothpaste and mint, and they were wet and hot. “Never lie to me with this mouth.”
He licked into her, and she moaned. “I love this tongue, never lie to me with this tongue.”
She inhaled a ragged breath and his tongue followed its path inside her, searching deep. In one instant her hands curled wantonly around his wrists, went higher up his arms, opening around the width of his biceps. Her fingers bit into his shirt and skin.
It was instinct, need, something fierce he couldn’t understand, that pressed him to slam her back against the wall, take her, make her his mistress. It was so consuming to him, this passion, he was afraid if he followed it, he would break her apart. Or maybe he would break apart, feeling this—for her. With her.
Was this what his father had felt for Marissa? Was this why he’d given everything for her, everything to her? Let her slowly finish him off…so long as she kept on kissing him, looking at him, touching him like this?
When a cell phone rang, he tore his mouth away and she fumbled in a purse she’d left by the nightstand to answer.
“Yes?”
His hand flicked the buttons of his shirt as she walked away and softly spoke into the receiver.
His heart rammed into his ribs, his blood a thick, terse boil in his veins. He was losing his head—and he didn’t like it. He considered retiring to his study to work, put distance between them. No. No. He wanted her. He walked forward, shrugging off his shirt.
“Yes…yes, I didn’t want to wake you…and yes, I’ll see you…um…I’m working late and I don’t know how long I’ll be—” Silence. A soft, very soft, “Good night.”
She came back, smiled.
“You’re spending the night,” he said, rendering it a statement when in fact he wanted confirmation. She was seducing him—in her pajamas, brushing her hair, staring with those green, green eyes.
Gritting his teeth against the flaring lust, he readied himself briskly, his erection springing free.
He grabbed her hand and put it on himself. If that didn’t tell her, show her, how far gone he was, then he didn’t know anything anymore. Still, he recalled Monterrey, all those nights with her, the days, and gruffly spoke. “You’re staying the night here—with me.”
She nodded and met his gaze, her eyes bright and fiery. She stroked his chest with soft, fluttering hands, dragging her lips across his jaw, his chin. “I want you in me, Marcos.”
A primal hunger had overtaken his mind, his senses, until he felt as instinctive as an animal. An animal tantalized by the nearness of his mate. “You came to seduce me, didn’t you? You like being at my beck and call. You came to please me, service me.”
Smiling, she stepped back, and her hands went to her shirt, and Marcos watched as she began to unbutton it farther. Her fingers pulled another button free, then the next, and his eyes flicked up to hers. “I’m crazy about you,” he rasped.