Chapter Five
The next few days passed in a blur of passion.
Lauren spent her nights wrapped around Marc’s body, moaning his name as he took her on nearly every surface in the tiny house. No matter where their embrace began, no matter where she was bent over or pushed to her knees to worship at his body the way he worshipped hers, they always ended up back in her bed. Sometimes she rode him hard, her hands holding his to keep herself upright as she panted and moaned and groaned and, finally, screamed at the top of her lungs. Sometimes she rode him soft, pressing the soft curves of her body to the hard lines of his, her hands stroking his hair as she draped herself over him, feeling him take her slowly to that edge, the fire in her belly growing into an inferno that consumed them.
Every time they made—had sex, Marc wrapped his arms around her from behind, spooning her silently. Every time, Lauren felt inexplicably safe in his warm, strong embrace. Every time, she woke alone in bed to find Marc in her kitchen, wearing boxers—or less—and reading the newspaper with two plates of whatever he’d managed to find in her perpetually bare cupboards. He always greeted her with a gruff “good morning” as she sat down next to him and ate quickly before leaving for work. Rarely did they say more than that, but Lauren found herself oddly content with that.
Work was a lot easier to get through, despite how tired she was now that sleep was often put off for an hour (or four) every night. She would get her paperwork done during her lunch break, quickly dissipating the pile that sat atop her desk, and return home to the man warming her bed.
Marc had taken to walking Emma up and down the street while Lauren was at work and, while the retriever hadn’t been too crazy about men before, she seemed to genuinely enjoy his company. Especially since he could play fetch on the beach with her for hours without rest. By the time Lauren returned home, Emma was conked out by her food bowl, having already been fed.
Before she could so much as greet Marc each night, he had taken control of her lips with his, swallowing her moans as he picked her up and planted her on either the kitchen counter, the table, or the sink, or pushed her against the nearest wall. Sometimes, they even stumbled out onto the deck, where he bent her over the railing and took her from behind, looking out at the private stretch of beach.
After several hours of moans and groans and one orgasm after another, Lauren wouldn’t be able to take anymore, pushing Marc away from her for a breather—and something to eat. Often, they would order in—since Lauren barely had time to go grocery shopping, between work and sex—but sometimes, he surprised her with a steak or some kind of meat hidden somewhere in the fridge. When she asked where he got it, he would shrug and just say he and Emma dropped by the market on one of their walks down the block. He never made a big fuss or show out of the fact that he bought food just to cook for her, and neither did Lauren.
It meant nothing. It was just food. They needed food to keep up their energy for sex. That’s all it was. She spent hours, late into the night, convincing herself of this after Marc fell asleep. After all, she’d promised him that there would be no feelings. He’d be gone soon anyway and she’d be alone again.
That’s how her life was just meant to be.
They got into such a steady routine that Lauren had almost forgotten about the reason Marc was in her life in the first place.
Then Joe called and it was like dumping a bucket of ice-cold water over her entire body.
She was at lunch when Sondra, her receptionist, informed her of the call from the auto shop. Lauren was confused for half a second as she picked up the phone, but Joe’s voice brought it all back.
“It’s gonna take a few more days, Doc,” he said, without any kind of formal greeting whatsoever. “Some of the parts on that damn bike were beyond repair. What the hell was he doing on this thing? It’s a complete deathtrap.” She could practically see him shaking his head in disgust. “I’m afraid you’re gonna be stuck with the limping biker for at least another week.”
“That’s okay,” Lauren laughed. “He’s really not so bad once you get to know him, actually.”
“Yeah, okay,” Joe snorted. “I’ll believe it when I see it. Oh, also, there was some guy around here the other day, asking about you.”
The hair on the back of Lauren’s neck stood up.
“A guy? What…what did he look like?”
“Slimy,” Joe huffed. “He was spouting something about an inheritance and how he was the lawyer for your parents’ estate. I didn’t buy it and neither did any of my customers. Nobody told him anything.”
Lauren breathed a sigh of relief, but her heart continued to pound hard in her chest. “Thank you, Joe,” she said. “Thank you so much.”
“No problem, Doc. Listen, do you need help of some kind? I could send Mara’s guy over to protect you. He’s pretty buff, you know? He could totally take this guy.”
“No,” Lauren said. “No, I’m fine. I…I have Marc.”
“Last time I saw him, he was limping something awful. You sure he can protect you?”
“Yes,” Lauren laughed. “He’s gotten much better. No more limping.”
It was then that she realized that was true. She hadn’t really noticed his recovery; they’d spent so much time in bed—and other places—that it hadn’t even occurred to her to check to see if his bruises were actually gone. But they were. She knew that they were. Or, at the very least, faded to yellow since she could no longer see them when she took his shirt off and kissed down his chest the way she loved to do. She hadn’t even realized that he’d stopped limping around the house when he cooked.
What kind of doctor was she?
The horny kind, a voice in the back of her mind teased.
“Well, then, he’d better take good care of you,” Joe grumbled. “I’d hate to see anything bad happen to you, Dr. Stanton.”
Me too, Lauren thought.
“Thank you, Joe,” she replied. “I’m sure he will.”
She hung up and leaned back in her chair, terror running through her veins at the thought of him coming back into her life. She knew exactly what he wanted; she’d been expecting this. It was only a matter of time.
She pushed the thought to the back of her head for the rest of the work day, focusing instead on the patients she had coming through. But every now and then, it rose to the surface and she would find herself assaulted by the memories…
*****