Making Mina Strings Attached(18)

She wasn’t teasing. She wanted him badly—almost enough to agree to whatever impulse was riding him—but she heard the warning in his voice and knew enough to respect it.

Marco drove too fast, the expensive engine responding to his every demand, and Mina couldn’t help but draw parallels to how he managed to wring such a response from everything he touched. She looked at him, his eyes glittering in the light from the dash, his jaw tight as he sped through town, and she ached to have that focus on her.

When they reached the building, Marco pulled a fob out of his pocket and summoned an express elevator, unwilling to wait for the regular one.

I guess I still won’t have had sex in an elevator, she thought a little wildly.

“Not now,” Marco said, a wolfish grin on his face as he pressed her against the cold wall of the elevator. “Maybe tomorrow.”

His hands traced lines of fire across her skin, until he cupped her face in them, lifting her lips for his kiss.

“Almost,” he touched her lips with his and she gasped at the sensation, “home.” His mouth covered hers, his tongue demanding entrance. He teased the tender flesh inside her lower lip, nipping at the surface, and then lightly gliding across it to soothe the sting.

The elevator chime rang, and Mina’s knees weakened as she realized they’d arrived. The world spun in a dizzying arc as strong arms swung her up and carried her, through the hall, through the living areas, cutting through the darkness and homing in on the door—the door that had taunted her all week—and the bedroom beyond, the vision of it bringing back memories of all the pleasure that existed there before.

Whispered words washed across her in a constant stream, and she grabbed each on and held it tightly to her heart.

“Mine,” Marco said it for the thousandth time and Mina shuddered at the dark determination in his voice.

“Yours.” The single word fell from her lips and she could feel its weight as it landed between them.

Mina’s senses were in overdrive. She was aware of the warmth of Marco’s skin, the taut muscles of the arms holding her so easily, and the intoxicating scent of his cologne and that subtle spice that was just him. She was weak now—tired of standing alone—and she leaned on him, just as he wanted her to. His grip relaxed and he shifted her slightly, allowing her weight to drag her down across the hard planes of his body. His heart beat heavily beneath her cheek, his breath rasped in her ear, and she shivered in anticipation as she felt his arousal pressed tightly against her.

She rolled her head to one side, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder. She was touching him, but she felt like she was so alone, so far from him, that she needed to wrap herself in him, or die trying. Marco groaned in the darkness and she smiled, a terrible, feminine smile of satisfaction, before she slid her hands up, higher and higher, cupping his chin between trembling fingers so she could draw his face down to her.

Hot lips touched and clung, and Mina stood there, amazed by the intensity of something as simple as a kiss. Marco didn’t plunge and plunder, instead his quicksilver tongue danced along, licking at her, nibbling, and finally tugging her plump lower lip until she opened herself completely to him.

His breathing was heavy, his mouth searing her where it touched, leaving her moaning as it trailed along the sensitive skin of her neck until he latched on to the place where her fluttering pulse was visible. Mina could feel his teeth as they dragged against her, knowing he was leaving his mark on her for everyone to see.

A whispered groan escaped her as he released her and she thought she heard a low laugh in the darkness. Their faces were barely visible in the dim bedroom, the streetlights too far below the windows that marched along the length of the room to cast more than incidental light, but she didn’t need the light. She knew his face like she knew her own, and she knew the desire stamped on it mirrored hers.

“Marco,” she whispered against his neck, teasing the corded muscles there with her lips, nipping in an echo of his earlier possession, “I need you. Please. Make love to me.”

His body stiffened under her hands and she couldn’t stop a panicked thought—what if this had actually been an elaborate trick and he was going to pull away and laugh in her face. Throw her out in the street with nothing, not even her pride, to keep her warm. The agony lasted a split second and an eternity, and she was almost afraid to breathe, knowing that would mean the Rubicon would be passed.

She needn’t have worried. Marco had no intention of letting her go back.

“Finally you come to your senses and admit it,” he said, satisfaction thick in his voice. “I was about to give up hope and take matters into my own hands.”