* * *
Amy
Walking fast up the sidewalk toward Mich
igan, I realize I’m trembling.
I can’t go home like this. Sylvia will be all over me wanting to know what happened, and telling her is the last thing I can do.
Stopping at the intersection, I take a deep breath and look up and down the sidewalk trying to estimate how far I am from Millie’s. I’m not that out of touch with the city. I should be able to remember where the closest bar is.
C.J.! I grab my bag and dig around for my purse. He’ll know where we can go for a drink, and if he joins me, maybe he can take my mind off what just happened.
The little red spot tells me I have a text. Swiping it fast, I stop in my tracks. Marcus wants me to stop by his office. Marcus...
Last night is so fresh in my mind. He ran after me in his bare feet. Giving my forehead a hard rub, I consider taking him up on his offer.
No. He’s too demanding, too bossy, and damned if my insides don’t go all squishy at the thought of him.
Be logical. It’s possible, once I lay the ground rules, I don’t do relationships, we’ll be fine. Hell, he’ll probably agree with me. He’s got to be at least thirty-five, and he’s still single. It’s silly for me to cross him off the list when we haven’t even laid the ground rules.
Standing on the sidewalk, I look up in the direction of his building. After the battle I just fought, it would be nice to have him lick my wounds. My stomach warms, a naughty smile on my lips. Or something else...
Chapter 6: Ghosts and Memories
Marcus
Three hours billed reviewing depositions in preparation for a damages hearing. It’s enough for a Saturday, and I’ve got to get out of here if I plan to run, shower, and be at Paul and Kitty’s for seven.
I’m just at the door when it opens on its own. I have to blink a few times for my eyes to adjust. Amy stands in the dark hallway, and a pulse of anticipation moves through me. I hold the door, and she steps through it, taking my breath with her.
A filmy tan dress hangs loosely on her slim body. The neck drapes low, and fuck me, the edge of that black lace bra is just barely exposed. My mind floods with images of last night.
Her long, slender arms are bare, smooth and golden, and I want to slide my palms up them, stop at her shoulders, and ease those straps down, pull her to me, cover her skin with my mouth as I taste all of her again.
Something’s off in her features. Last night she was all force and playfulness, but today, the wind is out of her sails. Her eyes are haunted, and a glimpse of her vulnerability provokes the most unexpected response in me.
I place my hands on her beautiful shoulders and pull her straight into my chest, wrapping my arms around her, sheltering her in my strength. She trembles, but her hands lightly circle my waist. Her face is buried in my shirt, and she doesn’t move. She only holds me as I hold her.
What passes between us in this moment is so basic. She moves her head and starts to pull away, but I catch her cheeks in my hands. Her pretty green eyes are clouded, and my lips tighten. I want to know who dared make her feel this way.
Sliding my thumbs just under her eyes, I don’t want her to cry. She doesn’t. She blinks to my mouth, pulling a glossy pink lip between her teeth. We haven’t spoken since she appeared, but it doesn’t matter. We’ve said everything needed in only a few gestures.
I lean down and capture her lips with mine, tasting her luscious mouth. Christmas is on my tongue. Gin? A little noise comes from her throat, and all is forgotten except her soft body in my arms. I slide my hands behind her neck, tilting her head so I can deepen the kiss. Our tongues curl together, and our bodies are fused from chest to thigh. Breaking away, I hold her shoulders as I move us back to my large desk.
In a fast sweep, I lift her to sitting in front of me. Her mouth is back on mine before she can speak or protest, and I’m between her thighs, scooping her ass toward me with both hands.
Now that she’s flush against my torso, I reach down to her thighs, lightly trailing my fingers up them, taking the hem of her dress with me. Another moan scrapes across her throat into my mouth.
Her hands are on my shoulders, tightening their grip as I continue trailing my fingertips to her damp, lace panties. Lightly sliding them aside, I touch her gently.
“Marcus!” Her head drops back with her gasp.
“You’re so wet,” I murmur against the skin just above her collarbones. Laving my tongue across that little hollow in the center, I give her a brief nibble.
Plunging two fingers inside, I’m rewarded with a little cry. “Oh, god!” She’s clenching around my fingers, her wetness sliding all over me. The memory of her tight little pussy is killing me.
Lifting my head, I kiss her jaw, her cheek, her eyes. “Amy,” I whisper against the skin near her ear. “I want to be inside you.”