Say You’ll Stay Page 13

  She put one palm on each muscular shoulder and pushed herself upright.

  “Don’t move,” she ordered. Marc remained gratifyingly still as she crossed her arms, pulled the tank top over her head and tossed it aside. Naked but for a lacy pair of black underwear, Alyssa reached for his arms and pushed them high above his head.

  “Like this?” she asked, grinding harder against him.

  “You have no idea,” he growled.

  Oh, she had a pretty good idea, judging from the way his penis tried to jump straight through his boxers and into her vagina. Thwarted, Marc thrust against her again.

  “Nice try,” she panted, shifting. “Don’t move, unless I need you to.”

  Alyssa took her time inching down Marc’s body. The texture of his skin was a marvel, so fine and velvety, the hard muscle beneath a perfect counterpoint. Her tongue slipped out, unbidden, and she traced the line between his ribs all the way to his navel.

  The thick bands of muscle crossing Marc’s abdomen tightened as she paused to lick the center of his stomach, then casually continued her exploration down the trail leading to the waistband of his boxer briefs. The waistband was tented enough for her to play peek-a-boo with his cock.

  She peered through the annoying mass of her hair. If he didn’t like it so much she’d consider cutting it short. Marc was watching her with hooded eyes so dark and hot it made her blood thrum in her veins. His arms were still propped on the pillow. A man who could take orders was a rare gem. She’d never tried giving orders before. She’d never tried a lot of things.

  More intriguing was the considerable lump covered by one thin layer of fabric resting just between her breasts. She hooked her fingers into the elastic and inched it down. Marc writhed.

  “No movement,” she chided, inching the blue shorts down until the tip of his penis emerged. Marc’s body stilled instantly, until she licked the drop of liquid seeping from the head. Then his taut hips bucked beneath her, trying to gain entry.

  Alyssa tsked and took the opportunity to slide his underwear down over his hips.

  “I’m going to get you back for this.”

  She sat up, her mouth turning up at the corners though she was trying hard not to smile. “I can’t wait. This time, however, I want to play boss.”

  “I’m yours to command,” he rasped.

  Alyssa dispensed of his shorts and folded her torso back down over his body. Daily yoga had several advantages in the sack—flexibility, and the ability to hold awkward positions for a long time. With his thick thighs trapped between hers, Marc couldn’t have gotten up if he wanted to. His arms were on the pillows. The sight of the fine hair under his arms made her pelvis pulse. It was an odd thing to find exciting, but it was earthy, masculine, and it totally turned her on.

  Alyssa hovered above Marc’s erection and cupped her breasts. Rubbed them over the solid length of him. She grinned as he fisted the pillows. She taunted him a little longer before placing her hands on the bed and moving back a few inches to take the tip of his cock into her mouth. She clutched his hips as he desperately tried not to thrust. Then she tortured him by flicking her tongue over the vein that led to the tip.

  “Fuck. Alyssa. Stop. Don’t stop. I—”

  She wasn’t done with him, so she sat up and extended her body upward along the length of his. He panted against her cheek, his chest rising hard against her breasts with every breath. Marc abandoned following orders, hooked his fingers into her underwear, and pushed them down to her thighs. Alyssa reached down and managed to kick them off without kneeing him in a very sensitive place. She kissed him hard and wet as she pulled her legs up into the same position she’d started from. Then she returned her hands to Marc’s wrists and pushed them up beside his ears. “Do you have a condom? I don’t.”

  Marc stared at her in disbelief as he clapped both hands over his face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t have one either. Julian probably does, but I don’t want to go through his cabinets.”

  Understandable. He and his brother were closer than she’d realized, but there were still boundaries. Alyssa shrugged and lay down next to him, one hand propping up her head.

  “I’m on birth control.” She hesitated before saying it, unsure whether she wanted to have sex with him without a condom. He’d played the field for so long.

  He let go of his face and rolled up and over, pushing her backward onto the bed. He kissed her hard, then gently as his body began to relax. “I’ve never done it without a condom before.”

  “Not once?” Marc was full of surprises.

  “No. An underappreciated advantage of a gay older brother is on demand access to lectures on how to have safe sex and horror stories about what happens if you don’t. When I discovered girls, Julian laid down the law.”

  “I’m dying to know what he told you,” Alyssa muttered around his mouth, tilting her pelvis upward against him.

  “The basics. Learn when and how to put a condom on and do that every time. Get tested regularly. Communicate with your partner. Don’t lie if there’s a problem, and have fun.”

  “You’ve done that to the letter?”

  “Every time. Especially the fun part.”

  Marc nuzzled his way down her neck, his lips tracing a lazy path along her clavicle, a slow burn trailing over her skin like the wake from a boat.

  “I had my annual a few weeks ago, and I got an IUD so I don’t have to think about birth control. Everything checked out.” She’d requested it in part because she hadn’t entirely trusted Zach not to sabotage her pill supply if he decided he wanted kids after the wedding. The new equipment was still untested.

  She’d never seen him hesitate before. Alyssa answered the question in his eyes with her body, pinning his hands back to the pillow. Sliding over him was so easy. The warm, wet friction of his body sliding into hers was the same, but better. Closer. She was on top, nominally in control. But somehow, within a few strokes, Marc had taken over. He matched her pace. When she curved her spine to take him deeper, he groaned and complied. And then she let go of his hands and propped herself up on her elbows, her face buried in his shoulder as he hooked his forearms around the backs of her knees and plunged hard and deep.

  Alyssa writhed helplessly as he fucked her in a frenzy, dragging animal gasps from her as he hit every over-sensitized nerve. The orgasm hit her hard and fast. She sat up and cried out, jamming herself down over him as she worked out days of frustration and denial on his body.

  His muscles stiffened beneath hers, and she glanced down to find wonder in Marc’s eyes as he came inside her.

  “Fuck,” he gasped when he could breathe again.

  “Yeah, that’s one word for it.” Alyssa tried to collapse over his chest, but he pushed her to the side and withdrew. Huh.

  She was a first for Marc in one very crude sense. The knowledge sat uncomfortably in her stomach like a half-digested meal. She’d had sex with exactly three people, all in college or after, and all in the context of relationships. Clearly Marc had learned a lot about how to please women, but he’d held himself back on some level. It was a strange time to be going outside his comfort zone.

  Given he’d already violated his ingrained sexual norms once, they may as well keep going. He didn’t need a lot of encouragement. She gave it anyway, just in case he had any doubts. They made out for a long time, kissing hard, exploring softly. Tasting one another’s skin.

  “You have gorgeous breasts,” he murmured, palming one, and watching her reaction. One rosy tip glistened. “Perfect. I could do this all day.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” She squirmed against him, hoping he’d go back to what he’d been doing.

  “Oh. Yes, we are.”

  “We’re what?”

  “Going somewhere,” he replied, kissing his way over to the other breast. “I get one more date with you.”

  “You can’t be serious. You’ve won. Contest over. We could stay here, right?” Alyssa suggeste
d hopefully.

  Marc shook his head. “Julian throws a party every New Year. There’s a balcony overlooking the harbor with a great view of the fireworks.”

  “I know all about the balcony.” Alyssa sighed.

  “You do?” Marc’s amber eyes peered keenly at her between the twin rises of her boobs.

  “How do you think I got in last night?” She stretched upward, a little pleased with herself.

  “It’s two stories up! You’re not Spiderman.”

  “No. But I’m also not afraid of heights. It wasn’t hard, honestly.”

  “Why didn’t you come by last night? I mean earlier.” His eyes searched hers.

  “I wanted to. I lost my phone at the bar.”

  Marc put his head down and inched up her body. “Damn. I can’t believe you did that.”

  “Me neither. I’m usually more responsible.” She rolled back onto the pillow. It hadn’t been her finest moment. It had been a rough evening, and she’d been a little scattered. Standing up Marc, even accidentally, wasn’t an option. She wasn’t going to think about why it had been so important. Her head wasn’t ready to go there yet.

  He put his hands on either side of her face. “I mean you risking your neck.”

  Alyssa kissed him. “It wasn’t the first thing I tried. I searched everywhere for a key, but I couldn’t find one. I rang the buzzer until I was afraid I’d wake up the neighbors. When you didn’t answer, I checked the mailboxes to figure out which one was Julian’s apartment. It was a simple a process of elimination to figure out which balcony was his. I’m not sure what I would’ve done if the door had been locked though.”

  “Mmm. I’ll have to tell Julian how easy it is to break in.” He resumed kissing her, lazily, then more intently, fully erect now.

  Alyssa shifted her hips until he bumped against her entrance. Though he was on top, it was easy to press herself down over his head by tilting her pelvis.

  She watched as Marc’s eyes glazed. His shoulders tensed under her forearms. His hips flexed, and he thrust slowly, clearly reveling in the sensation of flesh on flesh. It touched her in a way she knew she couldn’t afford. They had tonight. They had tomorrow. Then, it was over.

  She shooed away the sad thoughts. There was plenty of time to process all the pain still to come while back in New York.

  16

  Janelle hung up the phone and sat back. “Marc says to wear something nice. He has a specific request for a certain pair of disco chicken shoes.” Despite her general crankiness where Marc was concerned, Janelle’s green eyes crinkled at the corners with amusement. The contest was over, but he’d planned something fun, so Alyssa and Marc were keeping the date.

  “Any idea where we’re going?”

  “Normal rules. It’s a surprise. I can tell you to wear your hair up and bring a bathing suit.”

  Alyssa’s nose wrinkled. “I didn’t bring a suit.”

  “I have one you can borrow. It’s a bikini.”

  Alyssa wrinkled her nose. “I’m not ready for a bikini in December.”

  Janelle rolled her eyes. “You look great, Aly. Nothing we can do about the lack of a tan, but at least you won’t have awkward lines.”

  Swimwear settled, Janelle set to work curling and pinning her hair up off her neck. Tonight, she’d opted for a backless dress made modest with a white cardigan. Other than the ridiculous heels that shortened her steps and added five inches to her height, she could’ve been headed to church service. The bikini was rolled up and tucked into her handbag.

  “Showtime.” Janelle grinned as the BMW’s headlights turned into their driveway. Marc stepped out and slammed the door behind as if he’d owned it forever instead of borrowing it from his brother.

  A sudden attack of nerves struck Alyssa as she tottered out onto the porch. The shoes were ostentatious—fine for Manhattan, but Florida was a less fussy scene.

  “You look great.” Marc reached for her free hand and pulled her close enough to buss on the cheek. The heels put her nearly on eye level, a scant inch between the tops of their heads. No wonder he’d asked her to wear the damn shoes.

  * * *

  “Where are we going?” Aly finally asked as he steered the car onto the highway.

  “Villa Havana.” He knew how taking her to a hotel sounded, and he couldn’t resist a quick check of her reaction: startled, a bit wary. “My mom’s cousin owns it. We redid the landscaping after the last hurricane swept through, in time to salvage an expensive wedding. His son’s a friend of mine. I’m calling in a favor.”

  Maybe requesting the shoes had been a mistake. But he loved what they did to her legs, the way they angled her ass out into two perfectly clutchable rounds, and put her light hazel eyes almost even with his. His dick was certain that not booking a hotel room was an oversight, a grievous error. Waking up with her this morning had been amazing. He wanted that again, all the time.

  She thought she couldn’t trust him. He was desperate to find some way to prove otherwise, which was the whole reason they were here tonight. He pulled up and handed the keys to the valet.

  “Are you sure this date’s not going to cost more than ten dollars?” Alyssa asked him with a sidelong, questioning glance.

  “Immigrants’ kids are resourceful. Two bucks for the valet, eight dollars to spare.” He took her elbow. “Can I buy you a drink?”

  “Oh come on, that’s over budget and you know it.” Alyssa tucked his arm closer to her body, slowing him down as she tripped along in those absurd shoes. People looked up curiously as she went by. No, as they went by as a couple.

  “We have an open bar and free use of the roof deck all night.”

  “Roof deck?” She stopped before a long, gleaming wooden bar backed by a huge mirror and teardrop-shaped blue lights. “I’ve heard of this place. Isn’t it famous?”

  Marc nodded and flagged the bartender. Aly shrugged out of the demure white cardigan, and he sank onto a leather bar stool.

  Holy shit. Her entire back was bare from waist to neck.

  She set her handbag and sweater on the chair next to her and leaned onto the bar over crossed arms. The outline of her unfettered breast pressed soft and plump against one toned bicep. If they hadn’t had an audience, he’d take her right against the bar. Aly shifted her weight into one leg. Marc caught her gaze and ran his hand along the inside of her bent knee.

  The bartender interrupted to take their order. Alyssa ordered as he stroked her leg higher, out of sight of the rest of the room. His thumb rested in the crook of her knee between strokes.

  “On the house.” The bartender winked. Aly’s shook her head, but she was smiling.

  “Roof deck’s this way.” Marc left a tip, picked up his drink and her sweater. She trailed him to the elevators, glancing around the grand hotel that lived up to its name. The air conditioning had pulled her nipples into hard beads beneath the red fabric.

  Weird, since the cooling system didn’t seem to be working for him. He tipped his drink up to his mouth and wondered if they’d make it as far as the roof deck before he pinned her to the nearest hard surface.

  “You’re really something,” she declared as the numbers climbed higher.

  “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means…” she trailed off, lips closing over the rim of her cocktail glass, “I can’t figure out how you were hiding in plain sight all this time.”

  “I wasn’t in plain sight, unless you had a telescope all the way back in New York.”

  The elevator pinged open. Marc steadied her over a treacherous marble floor and leaned against the bar of a storm door. Three steps down and they were outside on the patio.

  Alyssa’s laughter cut off as she sucked in a breath. “Oh my God. This is beautiful. How did you know I have a thing for roof decks?”

  I didn’t, but I do now. “It’s spectacular, isn’t it? You can see all the way to the bay, to Fort Meyer, and out into the ocean. There’s also pool and a hot tub.”

 
; “Hot tub. Really?”

  The damned woman gave him a sly smile over her shoulder.

  “I might use it. I’m still sore from sledgehammering my house. You don’t have to though.” Marc’s cheeks went warm. What was it about Alyssa Carlisle that made him as nervous as a teenage virgin?

  She traced her way slowly down another flight of steps, taking in the elegant roof deck. Marc followed at a distance, watching her more than his surroundings, needing her attention.

  “How about a picture for your fans?”

  She turned and leaned against the wall. “Fans. Ha. You’re funny.”

  He pulled out his phone as she leaned forward against the concrete rail and let her curls touch her shoulder. Snapped a series of pictures he’d send to her later. “Don’t you have thousands of followers?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t think you’d heard me when I told you.” She changed position, adopting a friendly pose, like a friend you’d want to go out on the town with.

  “I peeked to see if you’d posted anything from your dates with Zach. Have you ever considered monetizing it?” Her posture went stiff. Marc lowered the phone and walked over to her. “You seem to enjoy doing this a lot more than you like designing junk mail.”

  Then he ran his palm down her back, tangling in the beads dangling between her shoulder blades. He wrapped the beads around his hand once, twice, until the necklace pulled up hard against the hollow of her neck. Not enough to choke her. A little taste of his strength. Alyssa’s eyes flared.

  “I do like it,” she whispered, and Marc wasn’t sure whether she was talking about her hobby or the pressure at her throat, or both.

  “Do you want me to let go?”

  “No, I want you to kiss me.”

  He inhaled, but the air that entered his lungs was filled with the perfume of her skin. He pulled gently on the jewelry, and she bent willingly toward him. He started with the vein that leapt beneath her skin, pressing kisses along her strong, elegant neck, along her collar bone. Marc released his grip on the necklace, and Alyssa gasped. One red strap fell down her shoulder. He traced its path with one finger, then pulled it up over her shoulder.