he watched her walk closer, loving how her hips moved under the silk of her panties and wondering what the small triangle of lavender hid. When she reached the couch, he opened his arms and she went right into them, straddling his lap. Kid move or not, his hands went immediately to her breasts. He needed to touch them, weigh them, get to know each and every inch of them. First with his hands, and then with his mouth.
“Things? There’s more than one?” Her arms were under his shirt, pulling it over his head and discarding it. “Sounds complicated.”
“Sugar, everything with you is complicated.” He kissed her left breast, right on the underneath side. “Keep my distance.” Then her right. “No flirting.” Back to the left. “No staring. No dreaming.” He stopped, his eyes flying to hers, and he smiled. “Although I broke that rule almost daily. There was a period of time there that every morning I woke up so hard for you I’d walk around with a bulge in my pants all day.”
“Those teen years must have been rough on you,” she teased, stroking his cheek.
“Teen years?” He turned his head, catching the inside of her palm and kissing her there too. It felt good. Not as good as kissing her breasts. But different good. “Hell, cream puff, I was talking about since you came home.”
“What other rules?”
“Let’s see.” He went back to her breasts, this time using his tongue. “No…absolutely no touching. Because I knew if we did”—he pulled her into his mouth, and she arched back with a throaty cry—“this would happen and I’d never be able let you go. And even if you broke up with Jeff you’d still belong to him.”
She went utterly still. He could feel the doubt creeping through her. “Do you still see me as that girl? As Jeffery’s?”
“No.” He brought his hands to her face so that she couldn’t look away. He’d been battling this attraction for half of his life, which meant he’d been battling some deep-seated guilt about his feelings for Lexi for just as long. After their first kiss last week, he’d come to terms with all of it, and he wanted her to know how he could be with her now, like this. “I figure any man who can walk away from you wasn’t a fucking man to begin with.”
Lexi wasn’t sure what she expected him to say, but that wasn’t it.
His admission was so raw and so real and so freaking hot that it made her body ache in ways she wasn’t sure were healthy. And don’t even get her started on the possessive way his hands gripped her hips when he said it, or how his eyes promised her the world. That made her want things that she hadn’t wished for in a long time. Things that she had long ago given up hope even existed. Or at least existed for a girl like her.
“So, are you a man?”
Marc was silent for so long Lexi felt the urge to pull the crocheted afghan off the back of the couch and cocoon herself inside. But she resisted. This was important and she was no longer content to hide from life, so instead she held his gaze, which was so intense she felt as though he was seeing every inch of the real her.
After a long moment, Marc’s hand slid up her spine and under her hair, gently cradling the back of her head in his palm. The little flecks of light filtering through the crack in the curtains showed the softening in his features. “Around you I am.”
Before she could respond, Lexi found herself in one of the most amazing kisses of her life. His mouth was soft and sure and so gentle it melted her heart—and every last bit of resolve.
Letting go of the past, she gave herself over to the moment, to the incredible connection bubbling between them, and to Marc. It was as though someone flipped a switch and all of her fears of heartache and trust vanished, leaving a need so deep that she knew only Marc could fill it.
“Marc,” she moaned between kisses, a hard task considering that one kiss fell into another, and another, until she couldn’t feel or think about anything but him.
As if he sensed her walls lowering, sensed her giving in, Marc flipped her around, and before she knew what was happening, she was seated on the edge of the couch and he was kneeling between