Virginia woke up alone. She bolted out of bed to stand naked and motionless in the middle of the room-until the aroma of bacon and coffee made it through her not-enough-sleep brain fog. Relief flowed through her, mollifying the surge of anger. "Relax," she muttered as she headed to the bathroom.
She lingered under the warm spray of the shower. Thoughts of the night before had her grinning ear to ear. It's no wonder I'm tired. Spinelli certainly had skills and stamina and-
Comes with experience, came out of nowhere, interrupting all that bliss. She slammed the shower off, refusing to think about it. After throwing on sweatpants and a baggy shirt, she made her way out to the kitchen.
He was standing over the stove, stirring something in a frying pan. Hearing her walk in, he looked over at the doorway and smiled, causing that same old flip in her stomach. Stubble shadowed his normally clean shaven face, giving him a more ominous look. Dangerous, remember that? Not your type, remember that?
He was wearing what looked like gym clothes, black shorts matched with a slim fitting grey shirt. The T-shirt was sleeveless, showing off all the hard lines and ridges that shifted along his arms with each of his movements. Gorgeous. Not that she needed further confirmation of that.
And here she was in her couch potato outfit. She suddenly felt ill at ease in her own kitchen. The morning had a way of changing a person's perspective of the actions of the night before, as if sunlight brings sensibility flowing in with it. She wondered if he had any regrets.
"Did you go work out?" Her voice had that first-thing-in-the-morning croakiness, and she mentally cursed her inability to ooze sexual charisma the way he did.
"No, I had these in my car. I didn't want to go to the grocery store in my tux." He gave her a mischievous grin. "Your neighbors might start talking."
"You went shopping?" She walked to the stove to see what was cooking.
"You didn't have any eggs. This is my breakfast specialty. Basically, it's eggs, bacon, and onions, but you can't overcook it or it loses its moistness. You ready to eat?"
"Sure." She glanced around for something to help with, but he already had toast, butter, knives, and forks set out. She spotted their discarded clothes from the night before, neatly folded and placed on the chair at the end of the table. That chair. Her cheeks warmed. Would she ever be able to look at that seat the same way again?
With nothing else to do, she headed to the coffeepot to pour herself a cup.
Spinelli doled out two helpings of his egg dish and put the frying pan back on the stove. He came up behind her and gripped her shoulders, turning her toward him. "Good morning." He studied her face for a few seconds before placing a quick kiss on her lips. "You okay . . . with everything?"
She only nodded at first, but in a moment of weakness she closed her eyes and let loose with, "I'm glad you're still here." Inwardly she cringed. Don't be so needy.
"You can't get rid of me that quickly." He leaned down to kiss her again, lingering this time. There was a reluctant groan before he pulled back. "Time to eat. You need nourishment before I drag you back to bed." Giving her a swat on the behind, he pointed to the table.
A few bites into it, she found herself bested yet again. "You know, it's kind of annoying, but this is delicious."
His distracted smile had her holding her breath. Something's wrong. As he covered her hand with his own, her heart raced. When his throat cleared, she swallowed hard, expecting a sex-was-great-but-let's-be-realistic speech.
"I hate to say this but—"
"Yes?" Insecurity had her voice cracking again.
"We can't tell people about us. Is that okay with you?"
She shrugged, trying not to let the relief show on her face. "I have no problem keeping my personal life personal. I've always been like that."
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Okay."
The mood lightened as they discussed the merits of the band and the variety of people at the ball the previous night while they finished eating. The dishes were next-she washed and he dried as the conversation continued. When all were done and put away, he leaned back against the counter and peered down at her.
"What." She glanced down at her shirt, hoping it didn't have a big stain on the front of it. Couch potato time tended to be on the messier side.
"There's something else."
"You certainly have a lot of demands." She hid the smile that was blooming.
"You have to start calling me by my first name, all the time, not just when you are on the verge of an orgasm. Or should I say 'orgasms'?"
Oh! The smile got nipped in the bud, but she held it together, knowing he was expecting her to be flustered by the reference to her passionate murmurings. She stood silent, as if his request was one that she really had to weigh. Milking it, she put one hand on her hip and brought the other one up to rub at her chin. "Hmm . . ." she drew out.
He crossed his arms and cocked a brow.
". . . I'll think about it, Spinelli."
He took a menacing step toward her, making her dart off with a squeal. She ran down the hallway, hearing him in hot pursuit. An arm snapped around her waist just as she reached the doorway of the bedroom, and he spun her around to face him.
"Okay, okay, Mark, Mark, Mark," she forced through giggles only to have it muffled as his lips came down on hers.
) l (
Mark's heart sang to the rhythm of her laughter. He started pushing her toward the bed. After all their nocturnal activities, he was surprised he had it in him, but the thought of seeing her naked in natural lighting was giving him renewed energy. He wanted her, but only if she gave the go ahead. For all he knew, she was too tired, or perhaps even too sore.
"Condom . . ." she murmured against his mouth. Guess that was a big 10-4.
He broke away from her to fish around in the pocket of his shorts, ending up with a small square in his hand and a gigantic grin on his face.
"You got more than one in there?"
Good Lord, I've created a monster. A sexy, irresistible monster. "You are going to wear me out, woman," he breathed.
Suddenly, her face grew serious. "Was everything all right? With . . ." As her voice drifted off, her hands took over, and in the middle of all that fidgeting she managed to point at the bed.
Sex? Is she talking about the sex?
"It's just . . . I was married . . . as you know." Her voice was strained. "And for the last few years . . . well, let's just say I'm a little out of practice." She looked away.
Rushing to reassure her, angry that an asshole like Tom had made her doubt her own sensuality, Mark brought a hand up to her face. She relaxed a little, pressing her cheek into his open palm.
"No," he said. "It wasn't all right." Jesus, his voice was so hoarse he hardly recognized it. "It was fucking amazing."
She smiled at that and grabbed onto his forearms, closing the distance to the bed. They fell as one, a heap of entwined limbs. Clothes got pushed and pulled, somehow making it to the floor.
He kissed her long and hard while his hand roamed over the soft skin of every valley, peak, and flat surface between her neck and her navel. Her nipples hardened under his touch, and when he could wait no longer, he shifted down to blow on the tight tips. Her body arched, breasts straining upward to his lips, begging for abuse.
But they weren't his target.
Moving to lie between her legs, he kissed and nipped his way across ribs and abs to her belly button, then down to her hip, lower and lower still to-
"Mark . . . I . . ." She was up on her elbows, uncomfortable with where he was going, shifting higher on the bed while trying to draw her legs together.
If she was worried about not having enough prep time to fully manicure the landscape, she needn't have. That wasn't going to bother him. He wanted all of her, every damn inch, fully exposed and unencumbered by modesty.
He held down her thighs . . . and convinced her with his tongue.
"Mark . . ." she breathed on a desperate exhale, dropping back down to the mattress.
He stayed where he was, ruthless in his duty to make her feel good, increasing the pressure on her sweet, slick flesh until she was fisting the sheets and curling her spine.
When she was close, he pushed a finger inside, loving the feel of her so wet and wanting.
She blew apart under his guidance. Twice.
Mark kneeled up and grabbed the condom. She waited, catching her breath, watching his movements with a sexed-up look in her eyes.
Once it was on, he eased his weight down, their chests coming together in a warm connection that soaked right through his skin, passed muscle and bone, and settled inside his heart. It felt so much better than the cold discontent that normally dwelled there.
"I didn't know I could . . . in a row like that," she whispered.
"You are a beautiful, desirable woman, Ginny. There'll be no more talk about abilities in the bedroom."
"None." She shook her head while wrapping those long legs around him.
Staring into green eyes that showed no regret, he pushed his hips forward-and drove into her. With a groan he lowered his head to her shoulder. God, she felt good. Would he ever get enough of this woman? When he started to move, she moaned a soft "yes" and ran her hands up his back. It was all so perfect, her beneath him, whispering in his ear, touching his skin . . .
She wasn't the only one making a discovery, here, today.
Paradise was the word that came to mind. He had found paradise.
) l (
He left at noon after a prolonged goodbye at the door of sweet kisses and slow caresses. Virginia watched through her front window as he got into his car, resisting the urge to do a pirouette in her living room. Easy, Virginia, she warned herself. Remember, he's just a man.
Uh-huh.
Friday seemed an eternity away. They were going to get together for dinner. His place. He promised to cook something nice. She knew it would be wonderful.
When her parents arrived with Janine later in the afternoon, Virginia still had the ridiculous grin on her face. She kissed all three of them on the cheek as they came in.
"You look happy," her dad said.
She wasn't about to explain why. "Stay for dinner," she offered. "Paul might join us."
"Sure," Barbara Sullivan said, squinting her eyes. "What's going on?"
"Nothing." Virginia shrugged, looking away from her mother's prying stare. "I just want to make dinner for you guys."
Frankly, I could use the practice, she kept to herself.
END OF CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Once it gets hot, you have to keep stoking the fire ;)
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