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Passion is in all great searches and is necessary to all creative endeavors.
–W. Eugene Smith
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MARC
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I SHOULDN’T BE HERE.
Standing in her building, staring at her door. She buzzed me up a minute ago and now . . .
It’s the only place in the world I want to be.
Well, second place, since she’s on the other side.
There’s a little sign flashing in my head. Abort, abort, bad decision.
Brent’s the one that brought her home. By the time I made it back down to the first floor of the club after our little moment in the closet, they were gone.
Brent texted me that he left the car for me to take Candy home and then he took Gwen home in an Uber.
Very considerate of him.
And yet here I am. I drove his car here. After dropping Candy off at her place.
I’m sure he thinks I went home with her. That was his intention. She wasn’t averse either, but she’s not Gwen. She doesn’t make my palms sweat or my heart skip a beat every time she smiles.
There’s only one woman on my mind, and she’s on the other side of the door.
I take a deep breath, thinking about tonight, everything that happened from our interlocked fingers in the car, to her dancing at the club with Brent, to our time in the janitor closet. My emotions surge all over again, from elation to jealousy and anger to pure joy.
I shouldn’t be here. I should leave. Now.
If we get caught . . . it could ruin everything. Brent’s career, the family business, my own relationship with my brother, who’s only the most important person in my life.
But then the door swings open and there she is.
She’s wearing a cropped T-shirt and boy-short-style underwear, looking like she just stepped out of a Victoria’s Secret catalogue.
A groan escapes my throat.
How is it possible that the smile spreading her lips is for me? That glow in her eyes? She grabs my hand and yanks me inside and all thoughts of Brent and right and wrong fly away with one touch of her skin.
I barely notice the door shutting behind us even as she fumbles at the lock. I’m too busy pulling her shirt off, and then yanking her back against me. I want to feel her skin everywhere, all over me, against me, around me.
It’s not enough.
It only takes a few seconds of tugging at her little shorts, then I’m lifting her and her long slender legs are around my waist. I press her against the wall and I’m still wearing way too many clothes.
There’s only a few steps from the entryway through the miniscule kitchen and to the futon. I carry her there, still kissing, her hands in my hair and my hands holding her up and against me. I run into her side table but it doesn’t matter because her couch is already folded down and I set her on it and then we’re scrambling to remove the remaining layers between us. Nothing else matters, not the room, not the surroundings, just her. And me. Us.
She’s unbuttoning my pants.
I’m yanking off my shirt.
And then there’s nothing between our hot skin except our gasping breaths in the quiet air.
I rest between her spread legs. My erection is against her cleft but I’m not moving. Not yet. Our rough and tumble movements have slowed into something else, something infinitely more gentle.
We stare at each other, taking in the moment.
“You’re so beautiful,” she whispers, her fingers tracing a path over my face.
“That’s my line.” I turn my head and kiss her palm.
Her lopsided smile moves closer and then she’s pressing her warm, sweet mouth against my scars and the tenderness of the touch makes me want to cry.
“Gwen,” my voice breaks.
“I want you inside me,” she whispers against my mouth.
The words break the temporary softness between us and I lean over, scrambling for my pants, looking for the condom I found in Brent’s glove box before coming upstairs. She takes it from me, ripping the package with her teeth. I pull myself up slightly so she can reach down and roll it onto my length. The slow and delicate movements of her hand are making me lose my goddamn mind but I bite my lip and bear it.
And then she’s tugging on me, pulling me closer again.
I slide into her slowly, taking my time, wanting to remember this moment and this feeling long after she’s gone.
Once I’m fully seated, I stop and rest for a second. I have to take this slow and make sure she enjoys it.
What if this is it?
“Are you okay?” she asks.
“No.” I drop my head on her shoulder. “You feel too good.”
She laughs, the sound warm and the puff of her breath gentle against my ear.
“You feel better,” she whispers. She tugs on my head, pulling me away from her shoulder and gripping the sides of my face until we’re looking into each other’s eyes. “I want to see you.”
My eyes search hers, seeking the truth I know is there. She wants me. Me. She wants to know it’s me moving inside her.
My thrusts are gentle and my heart is full as I watch her pupils dilate and a flush move up her chest.
Time ceases to exist as I move inside her, slow, and then faster.
I watch her squirm underneath me, paying close attention to her breathing, the flutter of her eyelashes, the way she bites her lip and moans. Taking her cues, I shift angles to hit her in exactly the right spot. Her breath comes out in pants, her back arches as she climaxes, and I think I’ve never seen anything so amazing in my life.
“Marc.” Her voice is like her smell, like honey and sunshine, and the way she says my name as she comes pushes me over the edge. My own body erupts in pleasurable waves that leave me drained and more relaxed than I think I’ve ever been in my life. I sort of black out for a minute and when I come to, Gwen is running her nails up and down my back.
I’m still inside her.
“Am I crushing you?” I lift up but she pulls me back down.
“I like it when you crush me.”
“Well in that case.” I go limp on top of her, the sudden force of my weight eliciting a small scream and then a giggle.
I laugh, and her chest moves against mine as she joins in the chuckles. Her nipples are hard against me and I sit up a little so I can appreciate the sight. “You’re so perfect.” I whisper the words.
“No, you are.”
I lean down again and kiss one of her breasts, flicking my tongue against her areola.
She gasps and my shaft begins hardening inside her.
“Again?” she breathes.
“With you? Always.”
~*~
SUNLIGHT WAKES ME, coming through a crack in the dark curtains and nailing me right in the eye.
For a second, I forget where I am, but then I suck in a breath that tastes like honey and sunshine and a warm hand snakes down between my legs and grips my erection.
“Good morning.” Gwen’s hair is a rumpled mess. She looks like she’s been thoroughly fucked.
I grin at her, knowing I can’t possibly look half as enticing as she does right now, but that isn’t stopping her hand from wandering between my legs.
I groan.
“It’s my turn,” she says. She fumbles in a drawer next to the futon and pulls out a condom. Thank God she had extras. All I had was the one I stole from Brent’s car and we’ve gone through more than a few, in between dozing off and on all night.
She covers my cock with the rubber and then she’s sitting on top of me and I lose all thoughts for a good twenty minutes until she’s the one lying on top of me, all dead weight and delicious, curvy, long limbs. I run my hands up and down her thighs. I don’t think I could ever get enough of this and the thought is both glorious and terrifying.
My mind pokes at me. It wants to think about the future, and about Brent, about how he might feel about last night, but I purposefully shove the thoughts away.
“Shower?” Gwen says.
“And breakfast?” I add.
“It’s like you’re reading my mind.”
The shower takes longer than it should because Gwen all wet and soapy is a dream that I don’t want to wake up from. Gwen shares in the fun, enjoying the moment and not bringing up the future. Or the fact that we’re hiding from the real world. I just want to hang on to whatever is between us for a little bit longer. At least for the rest of the weekend.
After our shower, we’re in the small bathroom together. She’s given me a spare toothbrush and I’m brushing my teeth while she’s blotting her long hair with a towel.
She stops drying her hair and turns toward me, biting her lip. Thoughts swirl behind her eyes. “I wish we could go somewhere today. Do something together, in public. Go to breakfast? There’s nothing to make here but . . .”
I spit out the toothpaste into the sink, my mind whirring with possibilities. I know what she’s really saying. Where can we go where we can be ourselves and not be noticed? Where can we nurture this new and tender thing growing between us without prying eyes?
Nowhere in the city is completely safe.
“I have Brent’s Porsche,” I say, thinking. And then it hits me. “I have an idea. But we’ll have to grab something to eat on the way.”
“What are you thinking?”
I smile. “It’s a surprise. Pack an overnight bag, and dress warm.”
She squeals and hugs me before running out of the bathroom. I’m a little distracted by her exit because, well, she’s completely naked and it takes me a minute to shake myself out of my stupor.
It’s only the work of a few phone calls to set everything up.
Brent has a practice bag in his trunk with some clean jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. He’s bigger than me, especially in the chest and arms, but the pants mostly fit except for being on the long side. I’m thankful I don’t have to stop home and grab my own clothes and risk running into him. Which turns my thoughts to the only thing that could ruin my high from the last twenty-four hours.
Brent.
My brother.
My brother who told me that he’s falling for his fake girlfriend. The same woman I’ve had over me, under me, around me so many times now that I’ve lost count.
Guilt threatens to choke me, but that doesn’t stop the thoughts.
My brother who never took advantage of the fact that my past girlfriends would continually throw themselves at him.
But they weren’t Gwen.
He didn’t have . . . this. This insatiable need for someone.
I should tell Gwen about Brent and Brent about Gwen and then . . . and then what?
I can’t let her go. Not yet.
All thoughts of Brent and what a terrible brother I am get shoved to the side. I’m going to enjoy this time while it lasts. Because it can’t last. Can it?
While Gwen is getting dressed, I run to the bodega on the corner and grab a couple of breakfast burritos. There’s a middle-aged woman at the counter with kind eyes, and I remember what Gwen told me about how she would have starved if it weren’t for Maria at the bodega.
I leave a large tip before heading back to Gwen’s.
She’s ready when I get there and we waste no time.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” She’s got her hair pulled back in funky pigtails and she’s wearing jeans and boots and a sweater. She’s sitting cross-legged in the passenger seat looking like the most delectable thing I’ve ever seen, even with the salsa on her lip.
“Nope. And there’s rules.”
“Rules? What kind of rules? Naked rules?”
My brows lift. “You want some naked rules?”
She taps a finger against her mouth, like she’s seriously considering her reply. “Maybe.”
“We can put those on the table.” I stop at a light and take the moment to turn and cup her face, tilting her head toward mine to flick the salsa from the corner of her mouth with my tongue.
When I pull back, her eyes are shut and her mouth is open slightly. She shakes herself and then blinks at me. “Definitely need some naked rules.”
I smile. “The other rule is no cell phones.” I hold my phone up and shake it. “Mine’s off.” I toss it in the back seat.
“I can get behind that.” She pulls her phone out of her purse and powers it down before throwing it in the back with mine. “I have a rule, too. I get to take your picture as much as I want.”
I grimace. “As long as you don’t show them to anyone else. Ever.”
“Ugh, you’re so annoying. But fine. I don’t mind keeping them all to myself.”
Once we’re out of the city, I link her hand in mine, relishing the feel of her slim fingers in mine.
I want to remember this moment forever.
