Page 55 of If You Come Back To Me (If You Come Back To Me 1)

“I have a glass of wine once in a while,” she said as understanding dawned. He’d assumed she hadn’t drank her glass of wine for reasons related to their past. In truth, she hadn’t drank it because of her pregnancy. “What I said was true. It just didn’t appeal tonight.”

Marc nodded, but his expression was somber. “I mentioned it the other night, but I’ll say it again. I’m not much of a drinker, either. I just thought some wine with the food—”

“Marc,” she interrupted. “I didn’t think twice about you having a glass of wine. You didn’t even finish it. Do you really think I’m worried that you’re some kind of alcoholic because your father had a drinking problem?”

He shrugged and glanced away. “It’s not as if I haven’t heard something similar before. My brother and sisters have, at one time or another. All of us were stained by my dad’s actions.”

Mari opened her mouth to demand the details—who had dared to insinuate something so ridiculous? How could they possibly justify their allegations, when the Kavanaugh children were practically paragons of virtue, dedication and hard work?—but she closed her mouth when she noticed Marc’s rigid profile.

“It’s so unfair. I’m sorry,” she murmured.

His gaze returned to her face. “It meant a lot, to discover you weren’t one of those people judging me for someone else’s actions,” he said quietly.

She shook her head, her throat suddenly tight with emotion. She cradled his jaw with her hand and moved her fingers, absorbing the sensation of his warm skin, both overwhelmed by his vibrant presence and hungry to experience more of him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her as he studied her through narrowed eyelids.

“Life is so uncertain. I wish…I wish I could always have you like this.”

“Like this?” His mouth quirked, and Mari brushed her thumb against his lips. He went still at her touch.

“Just us,” she whispered as she moved her finger, studying his texture like her thumb was her only source of sensation. “No one else.”

“It is just us. And the future,” he said.

“There’s the past.”

His hand came up and cradled her shoulder. “There’s the present, Mari.”

The present.

Staring into Marc’s eyes, she felt the present moment stretching out to eternity. He didn’t move or speak when she leaned over and placed her mug of tea on the coffee table, but she sensed the tension that had leaped into his muscles. She lifted her knee and straddled his thighs, her head lowered. The need she felt couldn’t be denied any longer.

She unfastened the first three buttons of his shirt and pressed her face into the opening.

She did what she’d been holding back from doing for weeks now…for years.

She drowned herself in him.

Chapter Twelve

The skin on his chest felt thick and warm pressed against her seeking lips. He didn’t have an abundant amount of hair there, but what she encountered delighted her as she rubbed her cheek and lips against it, experiencing the springy, soft sensation. His scent filled her, intoxicated her. She moved her hands, cradling his waist and then sliding up the taper to his ribs, caressing him with gentle, molding palms and eager fingers.

It took her a few seconds to realize he was holding his breath. That changed when she gently pulled aside the fabric of his shirt and kissed a dark copper-colored nipple.

He gasped her name raggedly and tangled his fingers in her loose hair.

He was so hard, so male. Her lips and fingertips couldn’t seem to get enough of him. She rubbed her mouth across his nipple, testing the texture with her tongue, thrilling to the sensation of the flesh beading beneath her caress. Her hands moved fleetly, unbuttoning the remainder of his shirt. His abdomen and ribs rose and fell as she explored his naked torso and tasted his skin.

He said something in a low, rough tone when she moved her mouth, raining light, quick kisses on his chest. She couldn’t hear him, but interpreted the words to mean desire. He hissed her name when she greedily sampled another small, flat nipple and felt it grow stiff below her tongue and lips.

He cursed and grasped her shoulders, lifting her. He pulled her down to him and seized her mouth, and their separate fires leaped into a single inferno.

He joined her in her quest to explore, to touch…to thrill. His hands molded her back muscles and encircled her waist. She loved how big he was, how much of her he could hold in his grasp. He shifted her slightly on top of him, bringing her closer against him, matching the core of her heat to his.

They groaned into each other’s mouths, burning separately…burning as one.

Mari felt liberated. Before, she’d allowed herself to touch Marc’s fires, to be consumed by them, even. This was the first time she’d let her own flames run free. Before, there had always been the nagging restraint, the hovering caution.

---