Mark (Mallick Brothers 3)

"It's not a big deal."

"Two minutes ago, you were looking at me like you wanted me to toss you up on the table and eat you for dessert." He wasn't wrong, and the fact that he read that on me made a little shiver of anticipation course through me. "Now you don't even want to look at me. So I'm thinking it's a pretty big fucking deal." His hands slid across the countertop and landed at my hips, pausing before folding across my belly and giving me a squeeze. "What'd I do?"

"You didn't do anything. It's just... it's stupid."

"Yeah, it might be," he agreed, making me laugh despite my mood. Had to appreciate a man who didn't sugarcoat everything. "Still want to hear it."

I sucked in a deep breath, looking down at my soapy hands, feeling uncomfortable. "I don't like that you think of me as some lowly criminal."

There was a short pause. "I don't remember saying anything even the least bit similar to that." That was true enough actually. I had just been twisting his words to further support my insecurity. How pathetic was that? "I'm not judging you, Scotti. Especially now that I know why you guys do it. I beat people and I don't have anything like your excuse. Do you think of me as some lowly criminal?"

"No."

"Then you see how you're being a little silly, right?"

"Silly?" I repeated, smiling despite myself. What kind of grown man used the word 'silly?'

"Batshit crazy more your speed?" he asked as he turned his face into my neck to plant a sweet kiss beneath my ear.

"Yeah, that sounds more like me," I agreed, leaning back into him slightly.

Could the fucking part of the evening commence?

Now that I got my head out of my own ass, I realized how good it felt to have his strong body behind mine, his arms holding me tight.

"Dishes can wait, yeah?" he asked.

"Yeah," I agreed, dropping the sponge and letting the water rinse my fingers as he reached to shut off the tap.

One second, I was leaned against his chest, the next, I was spun around so quickly that my stomach pitched and I let out a quiet gasp before I felt myself pressed back against the island. His hands sank into my hips and yanked upward, lifting me completely off my feet to settle me on top of said island as he lowered himself down on his knees.

At my confused look, he shrugged. "Got a feeling these damn shoes are going to get in the way of getting these jeans off you," he explained as he reached for the laces. He pulled off one, then went to the other.

Once my black sock-clad feet were freed, his finger moved out to trace up my arch which, for a normal woman, might have been mildly - or wildly - erotic, for me, it was freaking torture. Because me, yeah, I was ridiculously ticklish in weird places like my feet and my ribs. So there was no holding in the squealing laugh I let out as my entire body jolted, making Mark's gaze rise to mine, everything in it making my eyes go huge. Because I knew that look. It was the same one my brothers got when they realized for the first time they could use that against me in a fight. "No fucking way," he said, white teeth flashing all over.

"Don't," I demanded, trapped, completely unable to escape.

"Don't what? Don't do... this?" he asked, grabbing my ankle, yanking it upward as he stood, and going HAM at my arch. Until I was choking for breath as I uselessly swatted at his hands, until I was flat on my back, begging for him to stop.

But then he dropped my ankle, and his hands sank into my knees, pushing them open, moving between, and curling down over me.

"You suck," I declared, trying to catch my breath as he smiled down at me.

"Mhmm," he agreed on a rumble as he leaned in and pressed his lips into my throat, effectively wiping my mind completely blank in a blink. "Think I can change your mind on that stance," he declared as his tongue slid out to slide down the column of my throat. "What do you think?"

Think?

I wasn't sure I was capable of thought right there. At least not any that didn't involve the chaos coursing through me at his touch.

"Guess I'll have to show you," he mused, lifting up slightly then reaching for the hem of my shirt and yanking it up in one quick motion, discarding it down on the floor where his was laying forgotten somewhere.

His fingers landed near my ribs, his fingertips brushing the edge of my bra, as he curled downward to plant a kiss just below my navel, turning my belly liquid in the process. Then he was oh-so-slowly moving upward, making the muscles of my stomach quiver beneath the attention, making my heart start to race and my pulse start to pound in unusual places- my wrists, my temples, my throat, between my legs where my desire was making my panties stick to my skin with need.