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Buck & Mari

Page 91

by Reina Torres

The loose shorts she’d been wearing gave him easy access and the instant he swept his fingers through her folds, her lips parted and her eyes closed.

Mari felt him twist his hand and then she was full, his fingers deep inside her.

“Oh…”

He leaned in and she felt like his fingers went deeper.

“I fucking need you.”

His words had her head spinning and then his mouth was on hers, feeding at her lips, his fingers twisting and thrusting between her legs.

Mari gripped at his shoulders trying to bring him closer, wanting more of him inside her.

A week’s worth of questions and confusion and silence had turned into harsh breathing and a building tide of need.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself closer.

“Heath?”

He groaned as she pressed her mouth against his neck and pressed her breasts against his chest.

“I’m still…” She closed her mouth against his skin and sucked hard enough that she knew she’d leave a mark on him. “I’m still mad at you.”

He pulled his hand from between her legs and grasped her thigh.

She felt how wet his fingers were against her skin.

“But…” he pulled back, looking into her eyes.

“But,” she gripped the back of his head with one hand and slid her other hand down his chest, her fingertips trailing over his nipple and then his abs, dragging her nails over his skin, “we can argue later. I want this… I want you.”

He crashed his mouth down on hers and she felt a twinge of pain before he turned his head and ground out words she wasn’t ready to hear. “I need you… more than anything.”

BUCK

Later, when he woke up with Mari sprawled across his chest, he trailed his fingers across her back, down her spine and back again.

When his hand reached her shoulders again, he gently brushed her hair off of her back and her neck.

He didn’t want to wake her up, he just wanted to touch her.

He was hoping for a moment or two to gather his thoughts and the words he’d use to explain himself.

“Heath?”

He stilled his hand, wondering where this would go.

Maybe she knew how he was struggling, or maybe she just wasn’t going to wait.

She turned on her side, moving her hand over his chest until her palm rested over his heart. “What’s going on?”

Her question was simple.

The answer… not so much.

“It’s been a week.”

She was generous in her words, it was more than a week. He’d been all too conscious of the passing days.