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|Fall From India Place(On Dublin Street #4)(40) by Samantha Young|
I sighed heavily, wishing there was more I could do to help Jarrod see his self-worth.
I lifted my head from my work at Marco’s rough voice and question. His eyes were open, his low-lidded gaze affecting me emotionally as well as physically.
That rush of tenderness I felt clearly translated in my returning gaze because Marco suddenly grew more alert.
Resolve weakened further. Just one push…
My heart was pounding hard, but I tried for nonchalance, tapping my pen casually against the papers in my hand. “I’ve got this kid in my fourth-year class. Jarrod.” I set the essay aside with the others. “He reminds me of you.”
“Yeah?” Marco slowly sat up, his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned toward me. “You must have a soft spot for him then.”
I laughed. “So sure of yourself these days.”
Marco didn’t answer; instead, his eyes darkened, glittering in the low light as he lowered himself onto the floor. The thundering heart banging away in my chest sped up even more and I unconsciously licked my lips as he moved toward me.
My breathing grew shallow, my mind screaming Stop him! while my body happily gave in as he nudged my legs apart, putting himself between them, and moving his torso into mine so I was forced to lean back on my hands to create space between us. Marco wasn’t having any of that. Instead he leaned farther into me as my head tilted back, one hand flat on the ground at my hip, the other sending the hair on the back of my neck up as he cupped my face.
“I know you still care.” His words whispered across my lips, his mouth almost touching mine. I shivered, my breath stuttering. “And, babe,” he continued, “I don’t think I can pretend any longer that I don’t think about being inside you nearly every hour of every day.”
His words were almost the equivalent of his mouth between my legs.
I wanted him. I wanted him so much I was struck mute with the fear that if I spoke I’d deny myself.
Marco took my silence as acquiescence.
His thumb stroked my cheek in tenderness, his eyes dropping to my mouth.
Breathless, I waited.
His head dipped, crossing the minute distance between our lips, and my eyes fluttered closed at the brush of his mouth over mine. My lips tingled, and I sighed, excited for more.
His kiss continued in gentle seduction, a touch of lips against lips, the pressure increasing in increments as my skin grew hotter and hotter.
I’d never been kissed like this. No guy had ever taken such sweet time with me, as if needing to sample every last inch of my mouth. Every time I thought he was going to deepen the kiss, he pulled back, dusting butterfly touches against the corner of my mouth or nibbling on my lower lip.
The tingling was delicious. “Only yours,” I pulled back a little to say softly, sounding almost desolate and wondering if in amongst the lust there wasn’t some truth to that tone.
Marco watched me as if he were trying to read me. Tenderly, he tucked my hair behind my ear. “Only mine what, Hannah?”
“Your kiss. My lips tingle when you kiss me.” I smiled sadly. “Real, honest-to-God tingling. No one else has ever made me feel that.”
A dark triumph entered Marco’s eyes. “Good,” he answered gruffly, before lowering his mouth to recapture mine.
My breathing grew steadily more and more out of control as he returned to torturing me with slow, seductive kisses. I longed for him to touch his tongue to mine so I could taste him. I remembered the taste of him. There was nothing quite like it. I needed that back.
Pushing up off the floor, I reached for him, my hands gripping his shoulders when the sudden movement pressed our mouths harder against each other. I moaned in need and Marco crushed me to him, his other hand in my hair holding me to him as I opened my mouth against his. My lower belly dipped as his tongue moved against mine, as his heat and taste filled me.
This is what I’ve been missing.
“Put your legs around my waist,” Marco ordered, his voice thick with need.
I immediately did as he asked, my arms encircling his shoulders as he held me fast and stood with ease. I gasped at the feel of his hard-on, our eyes locking and creating imaginary sparks of molten embers at the collision. Marco carried me, our breaths mingling as we panted in anticipation.
I was barely aware of moving through the flat until he was lowering me onto the soft duvet on my bed, his body sliding over mine.
He held himself up, his hands braced at either side of my head. “No turning back,” he murmured.
Pushing his shirt up, feeling his hot, smooth muscle under my hands, I shivered with excitement. “No turning back,” I agreed, completely taken over by the sexual promise in his eyes.
Marco tugged his shirt up over his head and tossed it somewhere behind me.
“Oh, my God,” I whispered before I could stop myself, immediately reaching for him, needing to touch all that glorious skin. He was powerfully built, sculpted. “You’re beautiful.”
The words were almost muffled because Marco was peeling my own sweater off me, throwing it in the same direction as his own. “No, but you are,” he answered quietly, his hands skimming up my waist to cup my br**sts over my bra.
I arched my back, pushing them into his hands.
Marco accepted my offer.
He kissed me, deep and hard, as he deftly unclipped my bra at the back.
My hands traced every inch of his chest while we kissed, reluctantly letting go when he gently pushed me back on the bed and slipped my bra straps down my arms.
The bra disappeared.
Marco’s gaze drifted from my face to my naked br**sts and the heat in them made my br**sts swell, my ni**les tightening. I felt that roller-coaster dip in my lower belly and knew that if he slipped his hand between my legs he’d find me wet and ready for him.
He touched me, cupping my br**sts again, squeezing them gently, thumbs rubbing over my ni**les as he learned the shape of me. His breathing had grown heavier and I could feel the hard press of him through his jeans.
I arched again, silently asking for his mouth.
He didn’t deny me.
I sighed at the gentle brush of his lips against first my right breast and then my left. He tormented me, kissing near my ni**les. And just when I thought I’d have to beg out loud, he licked my right nipple before closing his mouth around it and sucking it.
A larger ripple moved through my belly and I cried out softly, throwing my head back against my pillow.