Say You’ll Stay Read online

  The hem of her linen sweater bunched in his palm until the air kissed her belly. Marc’s fingers skimmed her ribs as his mouth dropped to her nape and traced a path to her ear. His teeth scraped over the lobe. She melted against him, her breath shallow in her chest.

  Alyssa closed her eyes against the bright winking sky. Marc’s hand flattened over her stomach. His thumb brushed the underside of her breast. She inhaled sharply and let her cheek fall against his hair as he made his way down her neck again.

  Marc traced the contour of her bra with one palm. His breath was hard against her cheek as he pushed past the cup and found the tight bead of her nipple. He rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. Shockwaves of pleasure radiated outward, her other breast heavy and unbearably tight as it waited impatiently for its turn. Alyssa’s mind blanked.

  Instinctively, she moved to close the gap between their lips.

  “No kissing,” Marc reminded her, his voice rough, his arousal out of reach behind her. His lips resumed their progress over her shoulder, where her sweater had slipped down to bare her skin.

  “Yes.” Obediently, she turned her face heavenward.

  His fingertips brushed her inner thigh. Instinctively she let widened her legs, to give him better access. Marc took full advantage, slowly stroking her with his thumb.

  A breeze kicked up, fanning the embers of her overheated skin. Her skirt puddled over his jeans, leaving her open to the world.

  He pushed aside her underwear and circled her sex with one finger. Everything south of her belly button and north of her knees tensed. Waiting.

  The bastard left her suspended there, teasing, denying satisfaction.

  “Why are you stopping?” she demanded hoarsely.

  Marc’s chuckle reverberated through her. The sensation came close to putting her over the edge.

  “Do you want this?” he demanded, applying the slightest pressure to her clit.

  “Yesss,” she hissed, squirming.

  “Inside you?”

  “Yes. Yes.” But he refused to give her what she wanted. Instead he ran his finger along her wet seam, touching her entrance too gently. Toying with her.

  “Will you kiss me?”

  “Of course! Marc, please.”

  “No kissing. Remember?”

  “You’re cruel,” she complained in a hoarse whisper. “Fine. I promise I won’t try to kiss you.”

  “Kiss me anywhere but on the mouth. And keep your eyes open.”

  What?

  He must have a thing for watching her, or he wouldn’t keep asking. Alyssa broke this latest rule the instant he dropped his lips to the opposite side of her neck, pinched her taut nipple, and slid two fingers of his other hand into her. Sensation crashed over her, roaring and cacophonous in the quiet night. She dropped her head against his shoulder and shifted wider. He took the invitation.

  With a few long, slick thrusts of his fingers he found the sensitive spot deep inside her. A groan tore out of her as he pressed the heel of his palm against her tight nub and rhythmically stimulated her internally.

  “Open your eyes,” he ordered in a low growl.

  The weight of million watchful celestial eyes bore down on her. They blurred and streaked across her vision as pleasure wracked her body. Marc’s body was all around her, holding her as he wrung every ripple from her body. Watching her so intently that his flirty little game of eye contact was never going to feel like being eye fucked again because this was the real thing.

  He’d watched her come in his arms.

  She’d liked it. Needed it. Didn’t want to live without it. And that was huge problem.

  He withdrew his hand from her skirt and tugged her bra back into place. Kissed the curve of her shoulder as her breath slowed. In a few short days, she’d have to learn how to go without hot, blazing-stars sex indefinitely. Maybe forever.

  Alyssa turned to Marc and pressed her lips softly against his cheek, the tip of her tongue sneaking past the barriers of her teeth to taste the stubble on his cheek.

  “It’s your turn,” she breathed against his skin.

  “Another time.” He pushed back and stomped down the other side of the picnic table, leaving her bereft.

  “Are you kidding me?” she demanded. “I could feel exactly how badly you want—”

  Marc stopped in his tracks, his shoulders stiff. “It’s after ten. You have a curfew.”

  Until he’d checked his watch, the evening had been proceeding perfectly well. Alyssa was so sick of people making up idiotic rules to control her behavior. She was a grown woman. If she wanted to stay out late and have mindless sex with her neighbor with every alligator in the Everglades for an audience, it was her business.

  “I’m not going.” She got down off the table but didn’t move any closer. Instead, she crossed her arms and stood with her feet apart.

  Marc turned, his lean and lethal silhouette backlit by the street lamp in the parking lot behind him. “Get in the car, Alyssa.”

  “No. I’m not ready to go home. I want to stay out. With you.” Though his expression was shadowed she could feel him eye-strangling her. Eye fucking was better, but she’d gotten under his skin, which was sexy in a certain way. He did not get to be in control all the time.

  “Come back here. We’re not done.” Crickets chirped. Whirring bugs filled the silence. She watched him struggle. Watched him lose. A thrill of triumph rocked her when he took the first step.

  12

  A week ago, if someone had told him he’d be staring down a pissed-off, thoroughly mussed Alyssa in a public park, Marc would’ve laughed and complimented the speaker on his or her imagination. Yet here they were.

  As she stood there, defiant, his dick bucked against its denim prison. If they left now, they’d be home more or less on time. Any delay and he’d be in trouble with her family again. That mattered to him, if not to her.

  The white cake box on the picnic table snagged his peripheral vision.

  Marc stalked toward her. Alyssa’s stance didn’t change when he leaned over to pick it up.

  “Forgot something,” he murmured. He caught the scent of her hair and closed his eyes against a tidal surge of lust. He held the box in his right hand, leaving his left hand free to bat her hands away when she reached for his belt. Stymied, Alyssa reached up to wrap her arms around his neck. Her breasts flattened against his chest, and his lungs squeezed airlessly like a landed fish.

  “No kissing,” he whispered. Resistance was killing him by inches.

  “You get one rule,” she breathed, and then her lips were sliding over his cheek and the cake box fell to the table.

  Not kissing her was the hardest thing he’d ever done. No wonder she’d kept trying. The forced passivity was maddening. She worked her way down his neck, each soft impression, each glide of her lips against his skin sending sparks shooting though his body. Her hands found their way under his shirt, and his stomach pulled back like an anemone. Her fingers followed the lines of muscle, and her breath hitched.

  Marc put his hands around her waist and tugged her close against his body. Alyssa’s chin tilted up. Their mouths were centimeters apart.

  “No kissing,” she whispered, turning away.

  He’d never wanted anything as badly as he wanted to taste her.

  Alyssa’s hands found the buckle of his jeans. Yes, yes, yes, his body cheered.

  “No,” he rasped. “Stop.”

  She froze. No matter how badly she wanted to follow things to their logical conclusion, he knew she wouldn’t continue without his consent. It was his last defense. If he let her push him one step further, he’d have her on her back and screaming into the night sky.

  Yet there was one thing he wanted more than physical release with Alyssa. Marc wanted her to look at him and see a partner, not a hookup. He wanted them to be a couple, even if he was hazy on the details of how to make it happen. If that meant following a lot of stupid rules and disappointing everything south of his bellybutton for a whi
le, so be it.

  But disappointing Alyssa was shredding his resolve. Her shoulders pulled up near her ears as she stepped back. She raked her hands through her hair. The sweater she wore like a veil rose and fell with harsh breaths.

  She reached for the cake box. “I’ll be in the car.”

  Damn. He should have taken her to a hotel and given her everything she wanted instead of trying to be clever. But that was what guys who were just trying to get into a girl’s pants did. He should know. It was the kind of thing he might’ve done, if he’d cared less about what happened between them after she went back to New York. His throat tightened and his erection finally began to calm down.

  Right now, he couldn’t see how this approach was winning him any points. Alyssa was determined to keep things casual. The thought deflated him.

  He’d had enough no-strings sex to fill a lifetime. He was determined not to blow it with the girl he’d coveted for so long. But she wasn’t making it easy.

  * * *

  The stupid cake box sat in her lap like a bomb, silence heavy and awkward between them. Alyssa was drowning in a depthless sea of mortification.

  “Why did you tell me to stop?” she finally demanded when they pulled up at a stoplight.

  “You deserve better.”

  “I’m not in the market for better. I’m on vacation. I’m looking for fun.”

  “Well, I’m not.”

  “Lucky me,” she sulked. Her grip tightened on the box in her lap. “I’ve never known you to be serious with anyone. Why start now?”

  He checked the rearview mirror and turned onto their street. Parked a few doors down and killed the engine. Turned in his seat to face her, all lean slouch against the fawn leather. “Because it’s you, Alyssa.”

  “Ha.” Still, the thought sent a jolt along her spine that almost made up for the park disaster this evening. She snorted. Leopards didn’t change their spots, and men with a serious case of pussy affluenza didn’t suddenly want relationships with their next-door neighbors. Especially when said neighbor lived in another city.

  Or when the man in question was planning an open-ended sailing tour around the world in the not-too-distant future.

  Alyssa hadn’t made it to New York because she was stupid.

  “What will you tell Janelle about tonight’s date?” he asked softly.

  “Not the truth.” Alyssa opened the door and stepped onto the sidewalk, slamming the convertible door closed with her hip. She placed the bedraggled box on the seat.

  “Look happy,” he said, reaching for her fingers. The impulse to lift his finger to her mouth was almost as strong as the urge to pull away.

  Her sister stayed on the porch clutching a clipboard to her chest. She made a decisive tick mark with a pen. “Well, you beat Zach for timeliness, Marc. You may have two minutes to say goodnight. Consider yourselves warned. One kiss, that’s it.”

  “We won’t need long,” Alyssa reassured her. Janelle banged into the house with her clipboard, unappeased. Aly turned to face Marc. They stood inches apart, the evening breeze swirling her skirt around her thighs.

  He placed one arm over each of her shoulders. “Let’s consider this a do-over. When do you leave?”

  She inhaled the scent of him, soap with a hint of sharp masculinity, and tucked it into her store of memories. “My flight is at 3:30 PM on New Year’s Day out of Tampa.”

  Four days. Really, four nights and three days. “Tomorrow evening?”

  Alyssa’s face pulled as though she’d bitten into a lemon. “Nope. Tomorrow is Zach’s date challenge.”

  He frowned. “Doesn’t seem very fair.”

  Alyssa cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. “It’s not about fairness. It’s about convincing me to get back together with Zach. Surely you’ve picked up on this.”

  Judging from his expression, he had. “Is it working?”

  “No. And it won’t. Start planning New Years’ Eve, because I am breaking. Every. Single. Rule.”

  Marc placed left hand at her waist, or where he thought it was under all the soft billowy fabric. “You heard your sister. One kiss.”

  “I’ll give you a practice round.” She smoothed her hair back.

  Marc tilted her face to his with his right hand. He ran his thumb over her lips. “Don’t need practice.”

  Of course, you don’t. Alyssa closed her eyes. Marc placed his hands on either side of her face and brushed his lips across the tip of her nose. Her eyes flew open. A giggle bubbled up out of nowhere.

  “That’s it?”

  “Call you tomorrow.” He squeezed her hand and turned away.

  * * *

  The next morning, Alyssa sat on the swinging glider pretending to read a book while Janelle chattered at her. “I was thinking of going to grad school. For something practical, like accounting.”

  “Accounting. Really.” Alyssa didn’t glance up.

  “I hear you can make a lot of money.”

  “You’ve always been terrible at math. Why not go to law school? You’re good at arguing.”

  Janelle swatted her. It felt good to engage in normal sisterly bickering. They were interrupted by a UPS box truck rumbling up the street, followed closely by Marc’s old red Ford. A burly man in brown shorts and a button-down shirt stacked three large cardboard boxes onto a hand cart and wheeled them up the driveway.

  “Are you Alyssa Carlisle?”

  She nodded.

  “Sign here, please.” The delivery driver held out an electronic pad for her to sign. Alyssa scrawled her name.

  “What’s all this? Extra Christmas presents?” Janelle asked.

  “My stuff! I can’t believe he actually sent it.”

  “Who?”

  “Zach. It’s all of my worldly possessions.”

  “Three boxes?” Marc had veered away from his parents’ house and walked up their driveway. “Need a hand?”

  They hauled the boxes up to her temporary bedroom. Alyssa fished a pair of scissors out of a drawer and sliced through the packing tape. She held out a dress. “He could’ve at least folded the clothes instead of dumping them into garbage bags. It’ll cost a fortune to dry clean everything.”

  Janelle reached into a box and lifted out a plain brown shoebox with a fancy logo scrolled over the lid. Her green eyes went wide. “Whoa! You own a pair of Louboutins? Don’t they cost, like, a thousand dollars?”

  “It’s not a garage sale.”

  Too late. Janelle had opened the lid and was trying on her favorite pair of patent leather open-toe heels. “Hey!”

  “Oh. It says these were marked down to $298 at Barney’s Warehouse sale.”

  “Yes, they were a great deal, thank you very much.” She’d treated herself a few years ago, then Zach had proceeded to buy her more pairs at full, exorbitant retail price.

  Marc groaned. “Tell me women don’t spend three hundred dollars on one pair of shoes.”

  Alyssa shrugged. “When you only have space for a few pairs of shoes, you want love every single one.”

  “Oh, my God, there’s two more boxes in here!”

  “Janelle, get out of my stuff!” Alyssa lurched for the box but was hampered by the armful of dresses she was trying to untangle. Still wearing the first pair of shoes, her sister scooted out of reach. “At least let me unpack before you go picking through it.”

  “Check these out!” Janelle waved a glittery, feathered pair around.

  “They look like a cross between a chicken and a disco ball,” Marc commented dubiously.

  “It’s a twelve-hundred-dollar feathered disco ball to you.”

  “Janelle, you’re being crass. Also, they’ve only been worn once, so don’t get any ideas about borrowing them.” She’d forgotten about them. On purpose. Wearing them killed her feet.

  “Are you going to have room to store it all when you get back to New York?” Marc was leaning one broad shoulder against the door frame.

  “No. I’ll probably sell some of it.” She slipped a
suit jacket over a hanger. It was silly she had all this fancy clothing and couldn’t afford a better apartment. Plus, there was someone who needed the little space a lot more than she did. Gina.

  “Sell it? Why?”

  “I’d rather have the money. Or give it to Janelle. I don’t even like half of this stuff.”

  “Didn’t you just get a promotion?” Marc’s confusion was written on his face as he ripped open the two remaining boxes. “Why do you need to sell your stuff for money?”

  “Honestly…” Alyssa poked her head into the hallway. Janelle had disappeared with an armful of clothes and was undoubtedly trying them on. “Don’t say anything to my family. I’m thinking about turning down the promotion.

  He stared at her. Not his usual flirty eye contact game.

  Alyssa watched her sister’s door. “Do you know how much more they’re offering to pay me? Five hundred dollars. That’s it.”

  “A month?”

  “A year,” she replied, shoving a skirt onto a hanger and banging it onto the rod. “HR says it’s the difference between the top level of my current title’s salary range and the lowest rung of the next tier up. My boss can’t do anything. If I take it, I’ll be responsible for two junior designers, so it’s a lot more stress. I was so mad I told her I needed to think it over before signing the offer letter. I still haven’t made a firm commitment.”

  “Why? You have talent. Lots of it. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with a brand board, but I know great work when I see it. And you shouldn’t pass up the career advancement just because of the money.”

  He reached for the stack of hangers in her hand and tossed them on top of the clothes yet to be hung in the guest bedroom closet, then he pulled her into his arms. Alyssa sighed. She wished she had someone in her corner like this all the time. Too bad it wasn’t real. Marc was only on loan for a few days.

  “Shh.” The door down the hall had clicked open. Alyssa kissed him. Just to make sure his lips weren’t free to say anything about her job situation. Really.

  “Geez, get a room.” Janelle breezed past, still wearing Alyssa’s black patent Louboutins. She’d changed into a dress Alyssa recognized as one of hers and put on makeup.