Take Me I'm Yours (Coffee House Chronicles) (17 page)

“Take off your pants,” she commanded.

He didn’t waste a moment. He quickly unbuttoned them and dropped them to the floor, stepping out of them. She loved he was commando underneath. She beckoned him with the fingers she’d licked clean.

He came to her, his erection thick and ready. Moisture beaded the tip. She stopped him when he was inches away.

“I want to suck you while you lick me.”

Her heart was like a battering ram against her ribcage, threatening to burst through skin and bone. Her nipples tingled with anticipation. Desire flooded his eyes as he gave her a feral grin.

“Aren’t you a naughty girl?”

“Only for you.” She tried to force the words out strong but they merely came out a whisper.

He straddled her, his big body hovering over her. She opened her hips as wide as she could and his tongue slid inside her. She grasped hold of his erection, pumping him once, twice, before taking him into her mouth. All the way to the back of her throat.

The sensations were almost too much to bear. Her body threatened to burst into flame as he licked her and she sucked him. He was big and thick but she enjoyed running her tongue along the length of him while he clearly enjoyed it and her. He groaned approval, the vibration from his throat fluttering through her. Nothing had ever felt so good. In that moment, nothing mattered. The only thing that mattered was her and Graeme. For all she cared there could be a nuclear holocaust outside. But here, inside, with Graeme, there was perfect, sensual, wonderful, love.

When he couldn’t take anymore, he rose and turned to her. He pulled her up to a sitting positing, then picked her up and sat down on the sofa with her straddling his lap.
Without a word, she hovered over him, his hands slipped over her hips as the tip of his shaft teased her opening. Their lips met in a fiery kiss. She could taste remnants of her juices on his lips, his tongue. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her hands diving into the thickness of his hair.

“Condom,” he whispered.

“Fuck it,” she whispered back.

With her heart ramming hard against her chest, she sank
onto his erection. He filled her up as she rocked against him and their mouths fought for dominance over the other. When he moved his mouth, he kissed a hot, searing path from earlobe to shoulder and back again.

Her head fell back, giving him more access to her neck. Her breasts brushed against the fine hair on his chest, heightening her arousal. Her hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer to her as her hips rocked against his
and his hands palmed her ass.

Marion never wanted to stop tasting him. Her mouth melded with his, their tongues tangling with each other, their mouths wet and hot and sweet. He knew just how to kiss her—not too hard, not too soft with just the r
ight amount of tongue and lip.

With her mouth pressed against his and their bodies meshed, she quickly came undone. Her orgasm shot through her hard and fast, making her shudder with every spasm. His came seconds after hers. Both their bodies w
ere slick with after-sex sweat.

She dropped her head on his shoulder, her breathing labored as she
tried to regain her composure.

He kissed
her forehead. “Are you hungry?”

“I’m starved.” As if in
response, her stomach rumbled.

“We could eat here, stay in bed most of the day. Unles
s you have other things to do.”

“Well…” she began.

How could she tell Graeme the only thing in the world she wanted was to spend the entire weekend with him in bed? She desperately wanted that. She wanted to play house with him, run errands, and do dishes.

But then they weren’t a couple. Not yet. Maybe not ever. They merely had foreplay in his studio with hot sex as a side dish.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed,” he said. “Of course you have other things to do.”

“I did make a promise to Delilah,” she said. It wasn’t far from the truth. Still, she couldn’t believe she was ditching him to spend the afternoo
n home alone.
What a fool I am.

“Then let me at least take you down the street for brunch. The B
onjour Café is great,” he said.

“I know. I’ve been.”

She and Ethan frequented the place nearly every weekend. Now was her chance to erase some of those memories of him and make some new ones with Graeme. Even if it was the one and only time she’d be with him there.

His hand trailed down her
back, making gooseflesh erupt on her arms.

“Quick shower then we’ll go?” he asked, gazing at her with those incre
dibly beautiful pale blue eyes.

“Sure.”

Their gazes locked for a long moment, as if they were staring each other down. As if neither one would release the other. He grinned then, his finger sweeping down her cheek. Reluctantly, she slid off him and reached for his shirt, slipping it back on. She buttoned the top button and turned to see him holding his pants in one hand and giving her a grand view of his erect anatomy.

“Graeme…?”

“I just had you and I want you again. Why is that?”

“I
don’t know. I feel the same way.”

“Maybe we have more play time in the shower. What say you?” he asked.

A wide grin spread on her lips. “I say yes.”

* * * * *

It was another hour before the two of them managed to get dressed. Of course, Marion had one teeny problem—all she had to wear was her cocktail dress from the night before. She knew she couldn’t very well wear that to the Bonjour Café for brunch. She’d look ridiculous. Especially if Graeme wore jeans and a T-shirt.

“Well then,” he said as he slipped his arms around her waist. She was still wrapped in a towel. “I guess you’re my hostage.”

“Ha! Very funny, Graeme.” She tried to wiggle out of his grasp but he held fast.

“And you’ll have to be naked.”

“Graeme!” She gave him a half-hearted shove of one shoulder. “You know you have to take me home.”

He clucked his tongue in dismay. “Too bad for me.” Leaning in, he kissed her soundly on the lips. “How about I at least buy you coffee and
donuts?” he suggested.

“You certainly are d
etermined to buy me breakfast.”

Her hands rested on his shoulders. His magnificent, strong shoulders. He was shirtless, which gave her that glorious view of biceps and chest.
A vision of him on top of her, those biceps flexed to maximum power exploded in her mind. It nearly made her swoon.

“
I want to do something nice for you. Especially since you went to all the trouble of coming to the opening for me.”

“I wanted to.”

“I knew it!” He released her then, grinning like a fool, and stepped back. He wagged an accusatory finger. “You planned it, didn’t you? You knew all along about the gallery opening.”

Caught.
Graeme looked like a kid who guessed a big secret. His chest puffed out.

“I…um…I…” Dumbfounded, she didn’t know what to say.
She had tried so hard to make it seem casual.

“Delilah didn’t drag you there, did she?”
A flicker of amused suspicion was in his eyes.

“No.” There. She admitt
ed the truth. Defeat, at last. “Aren’t you glad I came, though?”

“You have
no
idea.” He grinned broadly and she giggled. “I’m…flattered, Marion. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t
you
tell me about your art?” she asked.

“Ah. Good point.”
He gave her a sheepish grin.

“Are you embarrassed about your work, Graeme? Because
from what I saw, you have everything to be proud of. You art is fantastic and amazing.”

“No, not embarrassed,” he said. “And thank you. It means a lot to me to hear you say that.”

“It’s all true.”

“I don’t know
why I didn’t tell you. It’s just something I do.” He shrugged, indifferent. As if to say it wasn’t all that amazing.

“Clearly
it’s something you’re very passionate about.”

He looked thoughtful. “I don’t try to hide it from anyone. It’s not exactly anything that comes up in everyday conversation.”

“When exactly do you have time for all of that?” She pointed toward the loft upstairs. “I thought you designed websites.”

“I do.”

He turned, opening his closet door and disappearing into the cavernous abyss that held rack after rack of clothing. Marion had never seen a man possess so many clothes. Except for maybe Ethan and he ran a distant second to the man whose bed she happened to share last night. And the shoes! My God, the shoes. He put Delilah’s shoe obsession to shame.

“And I thought you
said you had a lot of clients.”

“I did?” His voice sounded mu
ffled as he pulled on a shirt.

Marion was immediately suspicious. “Yeah. That first day
I saw you at the coffee house.”

He popped out of the closet, tugging
down his shirt. “I said I had some new clients lately and I do. They’re relatively low maintenance.”

“Oh.” Trying not to feel foolish, she reac
hed for her dress. “I thought…”

“I’m the boss. I have flexible hours.” Walking up behind her, he kissed her neck. “Why don’t you dry your hair and then we’ll head out? I know a
place that has gourmet donuts.”

“Gourmet, hu
h? Gourmet isn’t code for tofu or anything, is it?”

He chuckled. “Not at all.” Patting her on the butt, he headed for the bedroom door
. “I’ll give you some privacy.”

* * * * *

A few minutes later, they were in his car and headed through downtown. But their drive was short-lived. Graeme pulled over at the curb in front of a storefront that read The Holey Donut. It looked like a dive. Especially with a dilapidated sign hanging on the front of the building over the glass double doors.

“I thought you said this was gourmet?” she asked, staring at the building in front of her.

“Baby, it is. You’ll see.”

H
earing him call her
baby
made her weak in the knees every time. Ethan had never called her by any pet names.

“Come on.” He opened her car door.

“I can’t come in wearing this!” She waved toward her cocktail dress and bare feet and legs. She didn’t even bother to put on her shoes.

“It’ll be fine.” His mouth quirked in a lopsided grin as he held his hand down to her
.

“This is against my better judgment.”

She scowled, slipping on her shoes, and he chuckled. Placing her hand in his—and delighting in the warmth of his touch—she stepped out of the car. He laced their fingers, shutting the car door and led her into the donut shop.

A
s the door chime sounded upon their entry, a man—and only patron—stood at the counter leering at the young lady behind it. He leaned heavily on his arm, making eye contact with her breasts instead of her face. He turned when the chime tinkled and Marion’s heart instantly dropped into her four-inch heels at the sight of Ethan. He looked over his shoulder, his lascivious grin turning into a grimace.

Graeme squeezed her hand.

Ethan tossed a bill onto the counter and grabbed a bag full of donuts. He glanced at Graeme before sauntering toward them, one hand shoved deep into the pocket of his jeans.

“
Well, well. If it isn’t the happy couple,” Ethan said. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were stalking me.”

“Maybe you’re the one who’s the stalker
,” she said and squeezed Graeme’s hand back.

“Ha. You wish, darlin’.”

Marion ground her teeth, wishing she had enough balls to smack him like she really wanted. He gave her a once-over, quirking a brow.

“A little overdressed for t
he occasion, don’t you think?”

“Why don’t you move along, Ethan?” Graeme sugge
sted. “Mind your own business.”

“Marion
is
my business.” He swiveled his glare on Graeme.

“Since when?” she demanded. “Since you decided to come crawling back to me?” For someone who wanted her back so desperately, he sure was
n’t winning any brownie points.

“You’ve always been my business, Marion. Didn’t you know that?” He stepped toward her, getting a little too close for comfort. She could smell whiskey on his breath.

“Don’t you get it?” Her anger flared as she stared at him, loathe to even look at him. “I don’t want you anymore. Leave me alone.”

Ethan ignored her, his gaze on Graeme. The two men sized each other up, both with the rooster crest cocked and ready. Heavy tension hung in the air between the three of them and Marion wasn’t exactly sure what would happen next
.