Chapter Two
Joe had his head tucked under the hood of an old Cadillac when Lauren’s Jeep pulled into the garage. He glanced up and gave her a wide grin as she hopped out of the car. “Dr. Stanton!” he greeted, opening his arms like an old friend. He limped toward her, slower without his cane. “How are ya, Doc?”
“I’m well, thank you,” Lauren replied, accepting his hug. She didn’t often allow men this close to her, but Joe had never been a threat to her. He was shorter than she was, and bulky, built like a grandfather, with gray hair and a big white caterpillar of a mustache on his upper lip. From far away, he looked like the kind of man that you didn’t want to mess with (up close, too, if you didn’t know him), but he was a big softy. He reminded her of her father.
“Always so formal,” Joe chuckled, pulling a handkerchief out of the front pocket of his jeans and wiping his hands. “Guess that’s what a doctor’s s’posed to be, huh?” He laughed again, deep and booming, before coughing a bit into the cotton cloth and shaking his head.
“You feeling okay?” Lauren asked, completely forgetting why she was there for a second. She reached for his wrist and felt for his pulse. “How’s your breathing?”
“Better than it has been in a long time,” Joe retorted. “Thanks to you, Doc. I’m doing just fine. See?” He showed her the inside of the handkerchief. “No blood this time.”
“That’s good,” Lauren said, sighing in relief. “But it’s hardly because of me.”
“Are you kidding?” Joe huffed. “You’re the one that noticed how irregular my breathing was. You’re the one that nagged me to go to the clinic because I was too stubborn to drive all the way to the damn hospital. You are the one that called my wife and made sure that I was following up with my chemo after my diagnosis.”
“I’m also the one that cost you the leg,” Lauren sighed, looking down at the prosthetic on his right side.
“Eh,” Joe brushed off. “No leg is worth my life. My wife thanks you, my kids thank you, and my grandson thanks you.”
“Mara had the baby? Already?”
“A full month early,” Joe confirmed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his wallet. He slipped out a picture of a tiny blue bundle with a face and tiny, chubby hands. There was a tuft of blonde hair sticking out from under his cap. “But he’s doing well. They’re calling him Jojo.” He smiled at that thought. “He’s something else, ain’t he?”
“He really is,” Lauren agreed.
“I hate to break up this Liftetime Movie moment,” a voice behind Lauren said, grunting as his heavy steps brought him closer, “but do you think we could get a tow truck or something? Before somebody damages my Harley further or steals my shit from the saddlebag?”
“Who the hell are you?” Joe asked, his face turning sour at the newcomer.
“Joe,” Lauren sighed, handing him back the photo of his grandson, “this is Marc Kelly. He’s an…acquaintance of mine.” At Joe’s distrusting look, she leaned in, whispering, “His motorcycle died in front of my house. I really need you to send a tow.”
“I don’t blame you,” Joe whispered back. “I’d get sick of looking at that mug real quick if I were you, too.”
Marc impatiantly rolled his eyes. “Can we get a move on?”
“What’s your rush?” Lauren retorted, leading him back to the Jeep as Joe dropped the Caddy hood and reached for his cane, limping out the garage door. “You don’t have anywhere to go, anyway.”
“I’ve slept on the street before,” Marc huffed. “No reason I can’t do it again.”
“You shouldn’t be sleeping on the street,” Lauren said. “Not with your injuries.”
“Not like I have many options.” He said, waving his hand at the surroundings. “Unless, you’re offering to let me crash at your place, Doc.”
Lauren felt her face flush and her mouth went dry, leaving her incapable of responding to his suggestive comment.
As Marc reached over to buckle his seat belt, she felt his hand brush hers next to the gear shift and she shivered as a spark ran up her arm, burning her from the inside out.
Lauren cleared her throat, ripping her hand away and placing it down on the wheel as casually as possible. “You can sleep on the couch,” she said, her voice firm. She patted herself on the back for that; there was no quiver to be heard of.
“If you say so, Dr. Stanton.” She couldn’t help but shiver at the husky sound of his voice and without warning, the thought of his mouth on her body came to mind. Thankfully, the logical voice in the back of her mind reminded her that she was driving and that this man was a near-stranger to her. Inviting him to stay at her house overnight was already pushing it.
“I sleep with a gun,” she warned, almost as casually as if she were talking about the weather, as she turned the corner. She could see Joe’s tow truck in the rearview mirror. She knew he was watching over her, in case this Marc Kelly got any funny ideas. She didn’t know if that made her feel more safe or disappointed. She might not have minded Marc’s hands on her, if the feeling he invoked with a simple brush of fingers was anything to go by.
Though, her taste in men hadn’t always been the best, so she supposed having somebody like Joe watching over her was best. She hadn’t had anybody watching over her the last time and look what had happened then.
Lauren shook thoughts of him from her mind and focused her attention on the road. The car was silent now; no smart retorts from Mr. Kelly or brushes of their skin. When she glanced sideways at him, she found his eyes closed, as if he were sleeping. If he’d truly been riding all day, he probably was exhausted. Perhaps that’s what had caused the accident.
By the time she pulled into her driveway, night had fallen and the lights were still on in her house. She could hear Emma’s soft barking with the car windows open as she awaited her master’s return. Lauren smiled at that, knowing that Emma could recognize not only the sound of her tires on the gravel driveway, but also her presence—even from so far away—otherwise, she’d be barking hard and loud in the hopes of scaring off intruders.
She was a good dog.
Lauren turned off the engine and nudged the man on her passenger side awake. “We’re here,” she announced as she reached for her door handle and stepped out of the Jeep, stretching herself out. He wasn’t the only one that had had a long day and now it looked as if she’d be up late, filling out those forms in her bedroom. She would probably hole herself up with Emma behind the locked door and work until she couldn’t see straight anymore. And still, she probably wouldn’t be able to sleep, knowing that a strange man was in the house.
Even when there wasn’t a strange man in the house, Lauren found it hard to sleep straight through the night. Since him, things like sleep and a feeling of security were hard to come by.
At least she had a gun.
Joe’s truck was parked in front of Marc’s Harley by the time she reached him. The older man slipped out of his car, sans cane, and limped to the bike. “Give me a hand here, Doc?” he requested and she rushed over, helping him to pick the machine up so that it was standing and he put down the kickstand to keep it up. “Tell Sleeping Beauty over there to come clear out his things before I get it on the rig. And hurry. I should have been home for supper ten minutes ago. Marie is gonna kill me.”
“Just tell her you were spending time with me. I’m sure she’ll understand.”
“Oh yeah,” Joe laughed. “She’ll be real thrilled that I was spending time with my young beautiful doctor instead of running home to her at the end of a long workday.” He gave Lauren a thumbs up as she laughed. “Anyway, tell your limping pal there that the tow is free, because he’s a friend of yours, but the repairs are gonna cost him a pretty penny.”
Marc huffed, coming to a stop next to Lauren. “Seriously?”
“Yep, it’s not going to be cheap, with the damage I see already. And that’s without tearing into it. Could be more damage—won’t know till I get it back to the shop.” Joe admitted, shrugging his shoulders as he made his way back to the truck.
“He’d better not try and pull one over on me,” Marc whispered, forcefully, to Lauren and she snorted.
“He’s a sweetheart,” she retorted. “And the best mechanic you’re going to find outside of a city for a few hundred miles.”
“He said you were his doctor?” Marc asked, limping toward the Harley. “What’d he have?”
“That’s confidential information,” Lauren said.
“So?”
“So, I took an oath,” she huffed. “Not only morally-binding, but legally, as well. If you wanna know more about Joe’s health, you ask him.”
“I doubt he would be open to that converstion,” Marc scoffed. “He reminds me of a few fathers I’ve dealt with in the past. Not so much in appearance, but in the way that he glares at me; like I’m trying to cop a feel on his kid before prom.”
“He’s protective.” Lauren shrugged. “He raised four daughters and you tend to care for those that care about you.”
“Even if it’s the person’s job to care about you?”
“It’s not just my job,” Lauren huffed, following him to the saddlebag on the Harley, where he pulled out a rolled up sleeping bag and an old black leather jacket with the words Hell’s Seven MC and something that looked like a skull with wings on it. Lauren glanced back at the saddlebag as he continued pulling items out, mostly wrinkled articles of clothing that carried a strong scent. “When was the last time you washed those?” she asked, pinching her nose.
“Not many washing machines on the road,” Marc admitted. “Mind if I use yours?”
“I insist on it, actually,” Lauren said, keeping her face pointed away from the stench of his dirty clothes.
“It’s not that bad,” Marc said.
“Trust me,” Lauren said. “It’s that bad.”
“Whatever,” Marc huffed. “Do you know when your friend is gonna finish these repairs? I’d kind of rather be out of here sooner than later.”
“You can’t drive this thing until your ribs get better,” Lauren informed him, “or the pain could get a lot worse real fast. It’s best that you spend a couple of days in town.”
“At your place?” Marc looked, evenly into Lauren’s eyes.
Lauren pressed her lips together, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks as she looked away. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the corners of his mouth turn up at her reaction and it sent a tingle of pleasure up her spine. Clearing her throat, she started back toward Joe’s window. He was leaning out of it, his chin tucked onto his arm.
“That boy is like a snake,” he said. “You better watch out for him. Call me if he tries anything.” He handed her his business card—of which she already had six in her wallet. “Any time of day or night. Don’t you dare hesitate. Marie would kill me if I let anything happen to my guardian angel.”
“Sounds more like you’re my angel, Joe,” she pointed out, with a chuckle.
“Mutual guardianship, then. Which reminds me; Marie wants you to come over for dinner one of these nights. Now, I told her that you don’t have much time for silly meals with old couples, but you know my wife. She don’t take no for an answer. Besides, according to her, you’re the only reason I’m alive today to see my first grandchild and she wants you to meet him, as well.”
“I’ll check my schedule,” Lauren promised, before moving back as Joe stepped out of the vehicle, leaning a little too heavily on his cane. “You’re going to ruin your shoulder,” she warned.
“Eh,” Joe huffed. “I’ll be fine. I only do this after long work days. It gives me a little sympathy with Marie.” He winked and Lauren laughed, rolling her eyes. She watched him limp to the Harley and practically shove the cane at Marc to hold as he rigged it up to the tow truck. Then he snatched the cane and limped back to his seat. Lauren watched this all with an amused grin. Marc just frowned.
“Old coot,” he murmured, walking back to her side with his smelly clothes tucked under his arm.
“Okay, seriously,” Lauren replied, “you really have to go put those in the washer.”
“And risk getting attacked by your dog?” Marc laughed, humorlessly. “Yeah, right.”
“She doesn’t bite,” Lauren retorted. “Much.”
“Funny.” he snorted.
They watched the Harley slide up the back of the tow truck and Lauren tossed the keys to Joe as he held out his hand for them. “Thanks for your help, Joe!” she called out.
“No problem, Doc!” he called back. “Should be ready in a couple of days.”
“Sooner rather than later, please,” she called after him, glancing nervously at the broad-shouldered man beside her. Despite her attraction to Marc Kelly, there was something mysterious about him. It was almost like he wasn’t who he was trying to be; his clothes and actions gave the impression that he came from a rough past, but something about him told her that he came from affluence. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, though.
“I’ll be gone in no time.” Marc said, gruffly, as Lauren led him up the path to her house and even offered her hand to help him up the stairs. He ignored it, straightening his back and ignoring the pain in his knee and ribs as he took heavy, authoritative steps to the door. “I thought you said I couldn’t go anywhere for the next couple of days, anyway.”
“You can’t,” Lauren confirmed with a curt nod. “Still, I figured you’d rather get your bike back quickly, so you can leave once you do feel up to it.” She unlocked the door. “Wouldn’t you?”
“The last thing I want is to be stuck in a lame town like this for longer than necessary.” She could feel his presence at her back, though he wasn’t even close enough to cast a shadow in the porch light as she pushed the front door open and welcomed Emma with a pat on the head.
Lauren smiled, as she always did when entering and seeing the view of the glass doors leading out the back of the house. They could see the bright blue waters still lapping at the shore under the moonlight. There were so many stars here that she often found herself staring out at the sea later at night, when she should have been sleeping. There were barely any stars in New York City, what with all the light pollution.
“Not at all like the city, huh?” Lauren asked, glancing sideways at Marc, who was suddenly silent. He shook his head. “One of the pluses of living in a small Rhode Island town.” She took a deep breath. “The washer and dryer are through that door.” She pointed to the door right off the kitchen. “You should be able to hear the buzzer when it’s done and you can use the shower in the guest bath while your clothes are washing. There should be some clean towels in the linen closet.”
“Thank you,” Marc replied, slightly nodding his head and staggering toward the laundry room, still carrying his knee gently.
She hadn’t felt such strong emotion around a man in years. Not like this. Not something that made her heart pound in a way that didn’t spell fear for her life. The skin on her hand, where his fingers had brushed hers, still tingled as she walked back to her deck to retrieve her papers, which still fluttered in the wind, beneath the weight of her medical journals.
She pressed them to her chest and allowed the wind to flutter through her shoulder-length honey-blonde tresses. When she had first moved to Slightuckett, her hair had been barely past the tips of her ears. Before that, it had gone down to her lower back. She’d learned to keep it in a braid at work, the rope of her hair following her as she ran back and forth, helping patients and saving as many lives as she possibly could.
Since The Incident, though, she’d gotten her hair cut every couple of months to keep it from getting too long. Now, it was just long enough to put up in a ponytail for long days at work. She’d be due for a haircut in a couple of weeks.
Lauren set the files down on her kitchen counter and tangled her fingers in the blonde locks, taking a deep breath as she fought off the flashes of memory behind her eyes. Of darkness and a knife running across her belly and thighs, going just deep enough to scar, but not enough to make her bleed out. The memory of rope burns on her wrists and ankles and neck, keeping her body tied down. The memory of a loud buzzing in her ears that had driven her almost to insanity.
“Hey!”
Lauren jumped, spinning around and pulling the pepper spray from her pocket, aiming it at the intruder behind her. The shirtless man let out a curse as he jumped back, holding his hands up in surrender.
“Whoa,” Marc said. “Hold on there. Just wanted to know if you’ve got an extra toothbrush laying around.” He licked his teeth and winced. She continued to hold up the mace, still breathing heavily. “Or,” Marc continued, “I could use my finger.” He furrowed his brow, as if recognizing the pictures flashing behind her eyes. “Doc?” he asked. “Are you okay?” He didn’t dare move toward her, though; not with the threat of her pepper spray literally in his face. “Doc?” He cleared his throat. “Lauren?”
Hearing her name seemed to snap her out of it and the pepper spray dropped from Lauren’s hand, clattering to the floor as she suddenly remembered where she was. Marc Kelly came into focus and she remembered that he was here as her guest. That she was probably safe with him. That he was…shirtless.
Her entire body burst into flame at the realization and she cleared her throat, shaking her head. “Sorry,” she said, leaning down to pick up the metal canister and slipping it back into her pocket. “Sorry. I just…sorry.”
Marc let his hands relax by his side and shrugged his shoulders. “It happens to the best of us. You ok?”
Lauren nodded her head, embarrassed about her overreaction. “Yeah, I’m fine. What was it you wanted?”
Lauren noticed his gaze drifting down her body. His voice got lower as he took a few steps closer to her, his eyes darkening to an almost stormy blue. “I just wanted to know if you had an extra toothbrush that I could use.”
Lauren cleared her throat and pointed towards the bathroom. “Um, yeah. In the cabinet under the sink.” Lauren was rooted to the spot, her face pink and her heart pounding against her ribcage as she realized that he had taken another step closer. No man had been this close to her since…
At the brush of his hand against her hip, all thoughts of him left her mind and her attention—as well as every nerve-ending in her body—focused solely on the man before her, with the rugged jaw and the impossibly blue eyes, and the perfectly kissable lips.
Lauren placed her hand on his chest, not pushing away, but also not letting him come any closer. Marc blinked down at her, then at her hand.
Lauren barely breathed as she watched him back up, until he turned and made his way into the bathroom, washing his hands in the sink — but not before Lauren had the chance to admire the tattoos on his back and shoulders, the line of his ass, and the wild brush of his hair. She wasn’t sure that this man was even human. How could any mortal man look as good as this? Be as strong and muscular as he was? Invoke this kind of feeling in her?
As Marc opened the bathroom cabinet to search for a toothbrush, Lauren felt butterflies fluttering from her stomach to her chest. She placed her hand on her abdomen in an attempt to still them, only to realize that the former was really hunger that resulted from skipping dinner.
Checking her phone, she saw that it was nearly eight in the evening. She had to wake up at 6 AM for another morning shift and if she didn’t eat now, she wouldn’t have nearly enough energy to…well…
She glanced back at the rugged man standing in her bathroom, brushing his teeth, and bit her lip as she pushed away from the counter and walked around to her fridge, pulling out some leftover pasta from the night before. There was enough for two. She’d been planning to save the second helping for lunch, but so long as she had a guest—an injured one at that—Lauren supposed that the least she could do was share.
She doled out the meal onto two dishes and placed one in the microwave, turning around just as Marc stepped out of the bathroom, his shirt still missing and his jeans slung low on his hips. Lauren forced herself to ignore the trail of hair that led straight to the area between his legs as she cleared her throat and busied herself taking out a couple of forks and knives.
“I hope you’re hungry,” she said. “I’m just heating some left—”
Before she could finish her thought, Marc Kelly was upon her, his hands turning her around clutching at the back of her heart-dotted scrub top, his mouth descending on hers with a fiery passion that sent Lauren’s entire being into a frenzy. Her heart felt as if it would pound out of her chest, her blood boiled with arousal and acute awareness as his hands burned trails all over her body. For a few fleeting seconds, her hands flailed at her sides, before they landed on his bare chest and a moan was ripped from Lauren’s throat, her body sinking against his.
Marc’s hands raised to cup her shoulders, pulling her as close as their bodies could be as he deepened the kiss, growling and nipping at her lips. Instinctively, Lauren’s nails dug into the bare skin at his shoulders and she delighted at the hiss he released into the cavern of her mouth.
She ripped away from him at the sound of a loud beep, her back bumping against the door of the microwave and her fingers brushing the skin of her swollen bottom lip, where she could feel the indents of his teeth where he’d bitten her. Lauren’s chest moved up and down, raggedly.
“I…um…no,” she said. Marc’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and she shook her head, unsure what she was trying to say, herself. “Dinner,” she said, pointing her thumb back at the microwave behind her. “Dinner first. Then…talk?”
Marc nodded. He had turned her into a stuttering mess of a woman and he didn’t seem to be as affected. “Dinner first,” he echoed. “Then talk.” He bit his lip and backed up toward the table, where he pulled out a chair and sat down. Lauren took the first plate out of the microwave and placed it on the counter to cool as she replaced it with the second. Emma sniffed around the air and let out a soft bark, her tail wagging hopefully.
Lauren smiled down at her and reached into a nearby drawer. She pulled out a chair and held out her hand in the sign for ‘sit’. Emma sat, her front paws dancing on the tile; click, click, click! Lauren spun her finger and Emma twirled around. Lauren flattened her hand and lowered it and Emma laid down, still giving her big brown, hopeful eyes.
“Good girl,” Lauren said, tossing the treat at the dog. Emma caught it easily, without moving from her spot. Her tail thumped against the ground as she enjoyed her snack.
Lauren turned to find Marc looking at her, with an even gaze. “Is it our turn to eat now?”
“Sure,” she retorted, trying to act casual and ignore the sudden flash of heat she saw in his eyes. Thoughts of sex and food warred in her mind and, sadly, the growl of her stomach indicated that food was currently winning, no matter how much her thighs quivered and her knees shook. She grabbed the second plate from the microwave, bringing both dishes to the table. “Would you like something to drink?”
“You got beer?”
“No.”
“Wine?”
“I don’t drink.” She didn’t explain further, but there must have been something in her eyes when she said it, because Marc’s flashed in response. He said no more on the subject of alcohol.
“Water?” he asked. Lauren nodded and returned to the fridge, pulling out a couple of water bottles. She picked up the utensils she’d dropped and tossed them in the sink, before reaching into her silverware drawer for clean ones.
When she returned to the table, she found Marc shaking his head at her. “What?” she asked, handing him his water and utensils.
“Nothing,” he replied, though there was clearly something on his mind. “It’s just…you’re interesting.”
Lauren frowned. “Interesting how?” she asked.
“Don’t worry,” Marc shrugged. “It’s a compliment. I just meant that you’re not like many other women I’ve met.”
“You mean outlaws and children?”
“Okay,” Marc snorted. “First of all, Veronica wasn’t an outlaw, nor was she a child. She was, like, able to legally drink when we first…you know.” He raised his eyebrows. “Secondly, none of my old friends were outlaws. I mean, don’t get me wrong, they weren’t model citizens or anything, but they rarely broke the law in order to get what they wanted. Usually, they just made friends with people pretty high up on the food chain.”
“And that somehow makes it okay?”
“They’re immoral, okay? The guys in Hell’s Seven aren’t like some of the other bikers you might hear of. They’re not evil.” He shrugged. “Besides, Veronica threw herself at me, knowing that it would piss off her old man. But she didn’t care, ya know? Liked pretending that we were Romeo and Juliet, carrying on some grand romance in the alleys of New York City.”
“I take it she wasn’t much of a reader, huh?” Lauren retorted.
Marc laughed sarcastically. “Oh, she read,” he said. “But her comprehension was a little bit off. She was hot, though, so…” he shrugged, taking a bite of his chicken and pasta, moaning slightly. “Not New York-quality, but still the best thing I’ve eaten in weeks.”
“Thanks,” Lauren said, taking her own bite. The chicken was a bit rubbery and the pasta was too soft, but it was an okay meal for eight o’clock in the evening. “So…New York, huh?”
“Yeah,” Marc confirmed. “Born and raised.”
“Manhattan?”
“How can you tell?”
“Your accent,” Lauren pointed out. “No bridge and tunnel; you’re definitely not from Brooklyn or Queens. No way you’re from Staten Island and you don’t look like a Bronx guy either. Except maybe Riverdale…”
“No,” Marc laughed. “Not from Riverdale. God no.”
“Still, you came from privilege, didn’t you?” Silence. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I’m guessing…Upper East Side?”
“Good guess,” Marc said, “but, actually, I grew up on the West side.”
“Close enough,” Lauren laughed, spearing another piece of chicken and penne. “What led you to associate with the kind of people who’d hunt you down for sleeping with a girl.”
“Veronica ain’t just any girl,” Marc retorted. “She’s practically a princess.”
Lauren laughed at that, but when she saw the dead serious expression on Marc’s face, she stopped. “Wait, seriously? How do you figure?”
“Her father is the leader of this bike gang. The man has Manhattan under his thumb, better than any politician in any of the five boroughs. And he’s got more connections all over the country. He’s the reason I stay away from cities.”
“All this because you slept with his daughter?” Lauren scoffed. “There’s gotta be more to the story than that.”
“There may have been an…engagement,” he admitted.
“You two were engaged?” Lauren’s eyes widened at that revelation and she could feel something deep in her stomach; it felt like disappointment.
“No,” Marc sighed. “Not Veronica and me. Veronica and this tool, named…uh, Byron, I think? I dunno. He was a dick to her, so it’s no wonder she came to me for her pleasure.” He paused, taking another forkful into his mouth. “I thought she was just looking for a little fun before she got chained to the ass for the rest of her life, but then she up and cancels the wedding, announces that she’s in love with me and how there’s no way she’ll marry Brian when she could have me.”
“I thought his name was Byron.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Marc brushed off. “Point is, her father lost the deposit for the wedding hall and caterers and florists and all that wedding stuff, then blamed me for corrupting his precious baby girl. And then he gave me an ultimatum; either marry his daughter or pay for the cost of the wedding he lost out on.”
“So you chose Option C,” Lauren said. “Run away.”
“Not running away,” Marc argued. “Just taking a short trip for a while, letting things settle down. He’ll come to his senses sooner or later and realize that none of this was so much my fault as his own.”
“How is it his fault?” Lauren asked. “You’re the one that slept with his engaged daughter.”
“I’m not made of stone, okay?” Marc huffed. “And if he hadn’t been the one to arrange the marriage in the first place, she never would have thrown herself at me and none of this ever would have been an issue.”
“Or you could have just tried a little harder to keep it in your pants.”
“That’s kind of calling the kettle black, don’t you think?”
“How so?” Lauren scoffed.
“Oh, come on,” Marc laughed. “You didn’t exactly turn me down in the kitchen—”
“You started that.”
“But you didn’t push me away,” Marc pointed out. He put down his fork and leaned over the table, hitting her with that icy blue gaze that was almost hypnotizing. Lauren’s mouth gaped slightly and her eyes flickered down to his lips, his rugged jaw and high cheekbones. He was so handsome…
But then she closed her eyes and turned her head down, toward her plate. “I can’t,” she said. “I mean…we shouldn’t.”
“Why not?” Marc stood and inched his way around the table. Studying his chest, Lauren could see the outline of his bruised ribs, the black lines of his tattoos and the spattering of hair that drew an arrow from his belly button to the waistband of his jeans. She shivered when she thought about trailing kisses down that line, her fingers undoing the button and zipper of his jeans, tugging them down over his hips, along with his underwear, watching him spring free before her very own eyes.
She shook the thoughts away. “I haven’t…” she started, her cheeks turning pink. “Not in years, I mean. I’m not a…I’m just very out of practice.”
“Well, that’s okay,” Marc huffed. “You know, they say it’s like riding a bike.” He placed his hand on her shoulder and Lauren flinched away. He removed his hand, startled. “Whoa, relax,” he said. “I’m not gonna hurt you, alright? Just the opposite, in fact.” Lauren was silent, her arms folded across her chest. “Lauren,” he said, softly, and she finally looked up. “If you don’t want this, then all you gotta do is say so, alright? Tell me you don’t want it and I’ll back off. I’ll finish eating and go straight to bed and I won’t bother you for the rest of my stay.” There was a raw honesty in his eyes and, for the first time in she didn’t know how long, Lauren found herself believing in the words of a man, wholly. “But,” he went on, “if you do want it—this—then I promise it won’t be anything more than sex. No feelings involved except those of absolute pleasure.” He raised his eyebrows. “And that, believe me, is my specialty.” Lauren rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help but bite her lip as she gazed back up into his eyes, which were alight with a passionate fire. The kind of fire that could light you up from the inside and consume your entire being within seconds. Lauren felt a sense of relief at his words. There was no denying that she wasn’t ready for anything more than sex right now.
When her eyes flickered down to his lips, it was as if she’d made up her mind. Marc reached out, tugging her up from the hips and pressing his mouth against her, much in the way he’d done just moments earlier, in the kitchen. Lauren moaned against him, not holding anything back as she ran her hands through his hair and stroked the line of his jaw. Marc’s hands teased at the hem of her scrub top, tugging it up, inch by inch, revealing the faded lines on her belly. He didn’t pay any attention to them, however, as his hands had a mind of their own, stroking up to cup her heavy breasts in his hands, his thumbs brushing her nipples through the lace fabric and making Lauren cry out into his mouth.
In the next second, he was lifting the top completely off of her, separating their lips for a brief moment, before reattaching them, as his hands reached for the clasp of her bra in the back. She felt the material slacken as his mouth left hers, nipping and sucking and licking down her neck and chest until he could wrap his lips around one nipple, then the other, through the fabric. Lauren shuddered, her nails scrabbling at his shoulders, leaving behind raised pink lines in their wake. When he reached the line of her bra again, he used his teeth to pull the material away from her chest and Lauren lowered her arms to help him remove the bra.
“Do you want this?” he husked in her ear as he began to lead her in the direction of the hallway, which led straight down to her bedroom. “Do you want me?” He took her hand, placing it on the bulge between his legs. “Do you?” he demanded.
For a split second, Lauren felt a strong hesitancy and almost rejected him. But it had been so long since she had let herself go, since she had experienced the pleasure of being with a man. Her mind warned her that she didn’t know this man, but taking a chance, she decided to let her body take over and enjoy. Enjoy letting go in the heat of the moment. Enjoy this sexy man and disregard the rest of the world. “Yes,” Lauren moaned. “Oh god, yes…” She reached for the button on his jeans and fumbled for a moment before she got it unclasped, then tugged down the zipper so fast and hard that she was certain she was closed to ripping it open. She moaned again when she reached into his underwear and found him, hot and hard, waiting for her.
“Shit,” he hissed when she wrapped her fingers around him and tugged a couple of times, stroking him and adding pressure. He shoved her against her bedroom door and attacked her mouth again, using the wood as leverage to hoist her up, as if the pain from his injuries was miraculously healed. But Lauren knew better than that; she knew that he’d feel everything in a couple of hours, when the adrenaline had worn off.
She allowed him to lift her as she reached back, turning her door knob with her free hand as the other continued to stroke his shaft, making him breath raggedly against her neck. When the wood finally gave way, they both staggered inside, Marc dropping her to her feet and shoving her toward the bed. Lauren felt her knees press against the edge before she was pushed down to lay on the sheets, sinking into the soft mattress, which felt like a cloud against her bare back.
Marc wasted no time in tugging down her scrub pants and lace panties, tossing them over his shoulder as he trailed his mouth down her body for the second time. This time, he skipped her breasts altogether and she mewled, pushing herself against him, straining for him to touch her where she needed him most.
It didn’t take long for her to get exactly what she wanted and then her mind went blissfully blank.