Page 29 of Craving

“Any color you paint your lips would look good on you, Camilla.”

Her hands settled on his upper chest, two small points of contact that seemed to burn through his shirt. “That just tells me you don’t know anything about lipstick.”

Lips kicking up at the corners, he leaned in. “Maybe you should teach me.”

Nudging her face up with a touch of his nose, Marlon closed the distance between them. Her lips were pillowy soft, and they parted so sweetly for him. He didn’t deserve her. Not someone so gentle. So tender. So perfect. But he still kissed her and couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

When she curled her hands into his shoulders and arched her body against his, the final threads of his control snapped. Marlon crushed her against him and deepened the kiss, banding one arm around her back and using the other to tilt her head. He tore her headband off and threaded his fingers through her hair, drawing a breathless gasp from her lips. Her eyes fluttered as her body turned pliant in his arms.

Made for him—she was made for his touch, for his kiss.

“Marlon,” she gasped.

“Don’t tell me to stop,” he pleaded, letting his beard rasp against her cheek, her neck. He kissed a trail down her soft, soft skin, inhaling the scent that clung there. She smelled so good it didn’t even make sense. Her hands curled into his shoulders, grasped his hair, tugged.

He loved the way she towed him back up to meet her lips. Loved the demanding way she pulled at his hair and positioned him how she wanted him. He wrapped his arms around her and obliged.

Losing himself in a kiss wasn’t something Marlon had ever done. He’d never touched a woman and felt electrified the way he did at that moment. He’d never felt his soul let out a gasping sigh, like he’d finally found the missing piece.

Tearing himself away from Camilla’s lips, Marlon realized he had her pinned to the wall with his hips. Her eyes were wild and hazy with desire. His hard cock was pressed against the soft flesh of her stomach, and her hands clung to his shoulders as they both panted, wild-eyed.

Camilla’s head fell back against the wall with a soft thump. Her hips made tiny, almost imperceptible circles toward him as her nails dug into his shoulders, then slipped down to grip his biceps.

“There’s something in the air in this house, Marlon. You need to get it checked out.”

“What do you mean?” He kissed her jaw, his hand sweeping up to cup her breast.

“I mean I’ve never been this horny in my life. It’s like I’m starving. You need to check the batteries in your carbon monoxide detector.”

Fierce, intense pleasure nearly drowned him. He felt his lips curl as his hand plumped her breast, his fingers brushing her nipple through her clothes. “I don’t think that’s the house’s fault, sweetheart.”

A delicate shiver coursed through her body, and he teased her nipple once more to watch it happen again. Then he kissed her long and deep.

“What are we doing?” she whispered when his mouth moved to her neck.

“We’re making out.”

She huffed a laugh. “Right. I meant in a more philosophical sense.”

“I’m beyond philosophy right now, Camilla.” He yanked her shirt up and she lifted her arms to help him. Then he groaned at the sight of her generous breasts cupped in white lace. “Way, way beyond philosophy.”

Marlon wrenched the bra down to her waist, cupped her breast, and took her nipple into his mouth. She let out a gasping moan, her hands tangling into the hair at the back of his head to hold him there. He was being too rough. He had her pinned to the wall and he was devouring her body like a savage, but he couldn’t stop. Her skin tasted like heaven. Her tits were fucking beautiful. Her body was made to be worshipped.

“Marlon,” she sighed.

The sound of his name on her lips brought him back down to earth. He loved the sound of it, but suddenly he realized where he was. What he was doing. Who he was doing it to. He straightened, chest heaving, his hands still shaping and stroking her breasts. “You okay?”

Her eyes were lazy with pleasure. She nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

Sucking down a deep breath, Marlon tried to make sense of his thoughts. He wanted Camilla so badly he was ready to toss everything aside and take her right up against the living room wall. But she was Venus riding out of the sea on a scallop shell. She was a Renaissance painting. She deserved a feather bed covered in scattered rose petals, not a hard fuck up against a dusty wall.

And if they had sex, what did that mean for the future? They still had to live together for weeks. Would they be dating? Would he have to take care of her? Would she expect more?

But…maybe he could just have one more taste of her peaked, pink nipples. Maybe he could kiss her for just a minute longer. Maybe he could press his thigh between her legs and feel her grind against it and let out those sweet, breathless whimpers—

Stop. He needed to stop. Grasping onto the only lifeline he could find, Marlon rasped, “We’re breaking the rules.”

Camilla blinked, and her brows drew together.

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