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My gaze lingers on his mouth as he chews, my mind choosing that moment to remember just what that mouth is capable of. My insides tighten as a shiver runs down my back.
“You alright?” he asks, suddenly looking up at me.
“Oh, uh, yea.” I force my mind back to the present. “Sorry. Got distracted.”
Marcus smiles, seductively licking a drop of bacon grease off his lips.
“Oh yea?” he teases, dabbing the corner of his mouth with a tissue. “By what?”
The way he’s looking at me with a devilish twinkle in his eye says he has a pretty good idea of exactly what.
“Nothing,” I say coyly, averting my eyes from him as I bite into my toast.
“I see,” he says, a light-hearted playfulness underlining his words.
We finish our breakfast and I gather the plates, setting them by the sink.
“I want to step outside and check out the view,” I say, tugging on my boots by the front door. Marcus follows suit as I pick up a key hanging on a hook just to the side of the French doors, unlocking them and stepping out onto the patio.
The cold wraps around me as untouched snow crunches beneath my feet. I’ve seen snow in Manchester of course, but it never lasts long, almost instantly turning to grey slush that just makes everything more difficult.
Here, though, the snow is enchanting, like a magical playground waiting to be discovered.
Chapter 33
Marcus
“It’s so beautiful,” Lila whispers, almost as though she doesn’t want to disturb the stillness of the air.
“It is,” I agree, coming up behind her and wrapping my arms around her shoulders.
We stand there for a moment, looking out at the vast expanse of snowy fields.
She leans her head back, looking up at me, and as her eyes meet mine, I lean down, claiming her mouth as her body swivels to face me.
Her breasts press softly against me as my hands trace a gentle path down her back, coming to rest on the delectable curve of her arse. I pull her firmly against me, her feet nearly leaving the ground as she responds with unmistakable desire.
Her arms encircle my neck and I lift her slightly, her legs instantly wrapping around my waist as her ankles cross behind my back in a fluid embrace that sends electricity coursing through my veins, the gentle pressure of her thighs drawing a primal hunger from deep within me. Her breath quickens, each exhale a silent plea for more.
I carry her back inside, barely managing to kick the door closed with my heel as my focus tunnels in one thing only – getting her upstairs asfast as I can. Her fingers slide through my hair, our mouths inseparable, locked in a desperate exchange. The world beyond us dissolves – nothing exists but the sensation of her mouth against mine, the warmth of her body, the sweet rhythm of her breath getting heavy.
My boots echo heavily on the wooden stairs as I carry her into the bedroom. We fall onto the bed, my heart hammering against my ribs as her body yields beneath me, her warmth radiating through layers of clothing that suddenly feel like barriers too impossible to bear.
I manage to kick off my boots and pull back from her, kneeling on the bed as I pull my shirt off over my head.
Lila’s cheeks are flushed, her lips deliciously red and swollen, and her breath heavy as her eyes trace a line straight down my chest, along my abs and down to my cock.
I glance down, well aware that the joggers I’m wearing do nothing to hide how badly I need her.
I crash back down to her with another kiss before moving across to her neck. The sound of her gasp in my ear makes my cock throb, and I bite down onto her neck as her fingers dig into my back, firm but gentle at the same time.
My mouth continues exploring every inch of her skin down to her collarbone, my fingers toying with the neckline of her shirt.
I slide my hands around to her back, and pull up into a sitting position, lifting her easily so that she’s straddling me. Her gasp of surprise throws a huge smile on my face and I look up at her, her eyes soft, her fingers gentle in my hair, and her lips the most luscious thing I’ve ever seen.
“You are so beautiful,” I mutter, tracing my hands down her arms as I take her in, my fingers finding the edge of her top and pulling it up over her head.
Underneath, she’s wearing the same lacy black bra she had the other night, the delicate fabric creating a gorgeous contrast against her olive skin. Her breasts rise and fall with each quickened breath, soft and full, the curve of them perfectly cradled in scalloped lace. My hands cup them from both sides, my eyes glued to the way the softness gathers just below her collarbone. There’s a natural weight to them, a warmth, a shape, that makes my throat tighten and my pulse stutter. They’re not just beautiful – they’re hers. And that makes them fucking lethal.