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Before another thought can pass through my head, his mouth is on mine, kissing me with more passion than I’ve ever experienced. My heart races and I dig my fingers into his back, my insides melting when I hear a low growl rumble in his throat when I tug at his bottom lip. I can feel him getting hard against me and I melt into him, every muscle in my body begging for his touch.
His hands run down my sides, landing on my bum as he tugs me sharply against him. One hand scrunches up the fabric of my dress, pulling it up for several long seconds before I finally feel the heat of his skin on mine.
Our mouths refuse to separate as we edge slowly towards the bed, my hands pulling at his hair, frantic movements making up for two years of pent-up desire, when suddenly, a siren sounds in the distance.
We freeze, the heavy rise and fall of our chests the only movement in the room, the thundering of my heartbeat reverberating in my ears.
Marcus’s grip loosens, the hem of my dress dropping back down, the fabric hanging as though even its threads grow heavy with the weight of disappointment.
“We…we should wait,” he whispers.
I nod, the shadow of fear slowly edging forward in my mind again. My arms lower from the soft waves of his hair, my body involuntarily taking a small step back, but the sight of his bare chest and abs makes me bite my lip.
We stand for a moment, trying to catch our breath, as the siren fades into the distance and silence takes its place.
A sudden burst of fire flashes in Marcus’s eyes. “Oh, what the hell?” The words fly out of his mouth and his hands are on me, grabbing me firmly as he claims my mouth with his. He pushes me down onto the bed, his hips pressing me into the mattress, his lips caressing my neck, softly biting as he makes his way down towards my chest. A strong hand cups my breast, a needy whimper rising from my throat.
My entire body is trembling as his hand runs down my dress, stopping when it reaches my leg. His fingers start to slide up, along my inner thigh, and there is nothing in the world that would make me stop him.
He pauses, his eyes dark with desire, yet soft with a vulnerability I haven’t seen before, as though silently searching for permission. His breath is heavy and warm, and beads of sweat glisten on his forehead.
“Are you sure?” he whispers so quietly that if I wasn’t inches away from his mouth, I wouldn’t have heard him.
I place my hand on his cheek and kiss him, the caress of my lips begging him to keep going.
His tongue plunges into my mouth as he slides his hand the rest of the way up, my body igniting with need as his hand presses against the spot where I need it most.
***
Marcus
Fucking hell.
My heart feels as though it’s about to pound straightout of my chest.
My fingers reach further down between her thighs, the corners of my mouth widening with a grin at the feel of the thin lacy fabric already soaking wet.
I fucking love the way her back arches in response, pressing harder against my hand as a sensual moan escapes her lips.
Electricity prickles along my skin as I adjust my position on the bed, shifting to my side.
All it would take is undoing my belt buckle and she’d be mine, but as my fingers toy with the fabric of her underwear, something holds me back.
It sounds ridiculous to even be having these thoughts, but I can’t help the fact that for two years, I’ve fantasised about this moment, about what she would look like in my bed. And those fantasies included making love to her throughout the night, holding her as we drifted to sleep, waking up tangled in each other.
Not once did those fantasies involve the looming shadow of a police investigation.
Using what seems to be every ounce of willpower in my capacity, I pull myself away from the warmth of her skin, and sit up on the bed, catching my breath. I try to think of anything that might ease the pressure of my cock embedding itself into the zipper of my jeans, but that part of my body seems to have taken on a mind of its own.
Lila shifts on the mattress, climbing up onto her knees and placing a hand on my shoulder as she comes to kneel behind me.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
She’s literally fucking perfect. And she’s on my fucking bed, completely ready to give herself to me, and I feel like the biggest fucking idiot in the world right now for not ripping that dress right off her.
But what will it mean if it’s hurried like this, and over in a flash? We fuck, we talk to the police, and then I take her home? What kind of ending is that?
“Are you okay?” she whispers, her voice soft and her breath hot as she presses her lips gently to the side of my neck.