Page 27 of A Secret Escape

Lila

A mixture of not wanting to be alone, combined with the irresistible knowledge that Marcus is getting undressed, lifts me from the sofa and propels me over to the staircase, as though I’m not in control of my own movements.

Leaving my boots by the door, my toes tread silently on each step, carrying me weightlessly up the stairs.

My thoughts continue to churn in chaotic disorder - from what we’ll tell the police, to the figure in front of the car and the gleam of the knife in his hand, to knowing the police could show up at any moment - all the while, being drawn to Marcus’s bedroom by an invisible force.

The landing at the top of the stairs matches the downstairs hallway’s soft grey palate, the walls calm and bare. The door directly in front of me opens to a darkened bathroom, so I peer around the next door, my heart leaping into my throat when I see him.

He’s standing by a large bed, shirt half-undone, one hand holding a button, his other hand dropping loosely by his side as he takes me in.

My eyes trace the outline of his face and wander down his neck, my heart starting to race at the sight of the perfectly golden skin of his chest, a few slight tendrils of hair visible in the very middle.

His necklace with a black gem hangs loosely around his neck, the pointed angle of it sending my eyes further down his body.

He’s completely frozen, staring at me, his jaw slack.

“Hi.”

I push my fears to the back of my mind. The only thing that matters now is standing in front of me.

“Hi,” he whispers.

“Don’t let me stop you,” I say, leaning my head against his bedroom door.

His mouth breaks into a playful smile that sends my heart flying as he glances down at his shirt, slowly continuing to undo the rest of it, each button revealing another inch of the incredibly chiselled body hiding underneath. God, it’s even better than my fantasies.

He doesn’t rush to take it off, but instead lets the open shirt hang loosely down at his sides.

I cross one foot in front of the other, tightening my core as my eyes follow the lines of his abs down to his belt buckle, where the tantalising V-shape you only see on underwear models hints at the treasure below.

How is this man so fucking perfect? He literally looks like he’s just stepped out of a catalogue and into my heart.

I take one step towards him, then another, breathing slowly.

Standing in front of him, I place my hand on his bare chest, sliding it slowly down to his waist, where I tuck two fingers into his waistband. His chest rises and falls with deep, steady breaths that land warmly on my lips.

He slowly lifts his arm, running his fingers through my hair, then wraps his other hand around my waist, pulling me close. His eyes meet mine, piercing the depths of my soul, before moving down to my lips .

A tremble passes through me as a swell of emotions rises up – a burning desire unlike anything I’d ever felt before, a wave of relief, and a sense of comfort, of safety, of… peace. It sounds mad, but whenever I’ve thought about what love must feel like, this is pretty damn close.

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 straight out 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.

I turn my head to look at her, and her hair is tousled, her eyes so beautiful, they make me want to cry.

I want to wake up to those eyes, I want to hold her and make her feel like she’s the only woman in the world, and I want to make love to her over and over again, without having to worry about being interrupted by a fucking knock on the door.

And most of all, I don’t want the feel of her, the reality of her, to be marred by the image of the body on the ground, the shadow of which hovers at the back of my mind like a ghost, threatening to consume me.

“Yea,” I say with a long exhale. “Just need a moment.”

God, she’s so special. I don’t want to ruin it.

I don’t know if there’s a future here, I don’t even know if that’s something I want, or if it’s what she wants, but what I do know is that I don’t want this to be a one-night stand.

A soft hand runs down my back, making me groan. Her skin is fucking satin and if she keeps touching me, she’s going to make resisting her completely impossible.

She places both hands on my shoulders and starts to move them in slow, circular motions, massaging the tension that had built up in them. Her lips caress my neck as she slowly pulls my shirt down, her hand tracing the line of my arm as the fabric slips off.

I lean my head back against her, closing my eyes as I savour the warmth of her hands sliding down my chest .

Coming back to my shoulders, she climbs off the bed and positions herself in front of me, pushing my legs wide as she lowers her knees down to the floor, her hands running up my thighs.

My heart is racing as I stare at her, my vocal chords refusing to utter a sound.

Instead, my hands find her hair, pushing her head back to look at me as her hands tug at my belt. She opens the buckle easily, pulling it loose, and releases the button holding my jeans closed. She teases the zipper, peeling the dark denim down and off my legs.

Fuck. I can barely breathe at the sight of her.

I have never in my life been so fucking desperate. I feel as though I’m already on the edge, and she hasn’t even touched me yet.