Page 48

She shut the door and he pressed her against the car with his hips. “You’re right.” He lowered his lips and kissed her. Her eyes sank shut.

“Hmm.” She smiled up at him as she touched his cheek with her hand. “That sounds nice.”

“I have plans for you.” He grasped her hand and headed up the steps that cut into the grassy hill and led to the porch.

“Mine’s on the left.”

Her two-story duplex had side-by-side twin front porches separated by a short brick wall. Her house was a charming older model, like the house they’d just left, but with a spacious porch, square pillars, and an overhang. She loved sitting there and watching it rain.

Her next-door neighbor, Phyllis, had likely been in bed since eight o’clock. Her windows were dark. A large, yellow tomcat named Harvey leaped to the dividing wall between their porches and let out an almost-human Meower!

“Good Lord,” Marcus said. “Is that a bobcat? He’s enormous.”

“He’s healthy. Harvey, meet Marcus. Marcus, my neighbor’s cat, Harvey.”

“Meower!”

“Hi, buddy.” He scratched the cat’s head, and Harvey leaned into his palm. “Listen to that purr. It’s like a jet engine.”

“He’s the best.” She pushed open her front door. “Well, this is it.”

“Would you like a—” Before she could extend the offer of a nightcap or a tour, he laid his lips on hers. He tasted great. He’d tasted great down there, too, all manly and clean. And she had a discerning palate.

He slipped her purse off her shoulder and dropped it on the floor, his lips never leaving hers. She tossed her keys on the oak entertainment center, which held a modest television, a fishbowl—Bubba had splashed his hello upon seeing her—and a collection of books, organized by spine color.

“One second.” She tore her mouth from Marcus’s, tapped a few flakes into Bubba’s water, and then looped her arms around his neck. “Okay, you can continue now.”

“You actually have a fish.” He wrapped his wide palms around her ribs before closing them over her breasts. “I thought you were just saying that.”

“Nope. I am with fish.”

He lit her up with another kiss, kneading her breasts gently before skimming down her curves and cupping her backside. He gave her ass a squeeze. His stubble scraped her sensitive skin as he slanted his mouth and deepened the kiss. She closed her eyes, gradually losing any sense of time and space…and the ability to stand. When her knees went gooey, she felt his smile against her lips.

“I like how much you like me, McIntire.”

“Bedroom,” she breathed.

Holding her hand, he climbed the stairs two at a time. She raced to keep up with him. But then, outside her bedroom, her feet grew heavy.

He pointed at one of the closed doors. “This one?”

“That one.” She pointed to the other door at the end of the hall.

His eyebrows lowered with concern. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. A little nervous.”

“No reason to be nervous. We’ve done this before.”

“It’s like riding a bike?”

“More like riding a bull,” he corrected.

She laughed and instantly felt lighter. What was it about him that made everything seem so fun?

“Is it the bedroom that makes you nervous? We can do it right here in the hallway.” He tugged at the tab of the plastic zipper at the side of her A-line skirt. When it was open, it fell in a puddle at her feet. His gaze narrowed in on the scrap of panties she’d chosen for the evening. “Lace.”

“Do you like them?”