Anything You Want (17 page)

“She’s pregnant.”

“I know. And there are thousands of single moms in the world.”

“Sabrina doesn’t need to be a single mom.”

“She doesn’t
need
to be a married mom either.”

Luke turned his attention back on Sabrina. “You came home for a reason. You could have stayed in Seattle. They have everything you need there.”

“I know, but—”

She looked to Marc for help but he had none. Luke was right on this one.

She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply through her nose.

“Okay. I got robbed. Someone stole my credit cards, maxed them out, drained my savings and ruined my credit.”

“You got
robbed
?” Luke demanded.

She frowned at him. “Not on purpose.”

“Jesus, Sabrina,” Luke snapped. “On the street? In your apartment?”

Marc instinctively stepped between them. Luke’s eyes narrowed, noticing the protective action.

“Take it down a notch,” Marc told him. “It doesn’t matter how it happened. She’s here now. And you’re yelling at the woman you bought roses for.”

That seemed to make an impact. Luke looked at the flowers, then thrust them at Sabrina.

She took them, still scowling.

“Will you marry me?” His tone was short and cross.

Marc rolled his eyes. “Nice.”

“Um…”

“Um?” Marc turned to Sabrina. “Um?”

She looked at him. “Well—”

“
Um
?” He repeated. Where was the firm resounding no?

“I guess—”

Marc moved in to block her view of Luke. “Say no.”

“Say yes,” Luke said from behind him. Marc grit his teeth and stared hard at her.

She hadn’t wanted to marry Luke four years ago. But now she was broke and pregnant and she’d always,
always
, leaned on Luke.

Looking at her now he saw something startling. Insecurity.

The feisty women who’d packed up and left home without a look back four years ago, looked unsure.

Marc shook his head. This was a bad idea no matter what was going on in either head.

Besides, five minutes ago she’d been kissing him like she wouldn’t mind having raspberry syrup poured all over her.

“Sabrina?” Luke asked.

“Sabrina—” Marc said at the same time.

She took a deep breath and looked back and forth between them. She let the breath out and finally said, “Maybe.”

They both stared at her.

“What?”
Marc demanded.

Luke simply nodded.

“I said maybe.” She turned and walked out through the kitchen.

Kat was finally back in Justice. Thank God. Sabrina didn’t think she could handle being at Marc’s for another minute. Not after that kiss behind the bar at The Camelot. Damn that guy could kiss.

She slammed the top dresser drawer in Kat’s guest room.

She hadn’t seen her best friend yet and if she’d ever needed girl talk it was now. But Kat had returned from her conference and had been immediately called to the hospital. But Luke had a spare key to Kat’s house and seemed more than willing to help move Sabrina out of Marc’s.

She thought about that as she hung her clothes. Luke seemed to sense something between her and Marc.

Not that it had kept him from proposing.

But how was she going to explain the fact that she and Marc didn’t hate each other anymore? She didn’t think he’d seen them kissing but Luke knew them both. She’d never been able to hide her emotions from Luke. He would be able to tell if something was going on. And she’d never be able to lie if he asked.

But what would she say? That she felt like ripping Marc’s clothes off when he looked at her a certain way? That she felt like ripping her own off when he touched her? That she had
never
felt like she did when he kissed her—not even singing on stage. That had always been the ultimate rush. Until now.

That was where she got tripped up.

There had never been anything like performing for her. It had been like a drug, giving her a high she craved over and over again.

Alcohol had never done it.

Danger—motorcycle racing, skydiving and the like—had never done it.

Sex had never done it. Falling in love had never done it.

But kissing Marc Sterling did it.

Thank goodness she wasn’t stupid.

Marc might make her feel amazing physically. But what Luke was offering was
more
. In a lot of ways.

Security, help, support, a father for her baby—that was all more important, more responsible, less selfish than going for the rush. The rush Marc provided. And the rush her music provided.

The only thing her music had ever consistently given her was a thrill. Sure, she’d made a few bucks now and then but she’d always had to work other jobs to actually pay the bills. Sure, she’d met some great people, but they were good for some laughs, not people she could really depend on or open up to. The music hadn’t provided
enough
of anything.

Marc was giving her a thrill too. No question. The things he could make her feel—the tingles, the goose bumps, the heat—were great at the moment, but they wouldn’t be enough either.

She didn’t need tingles and goose bumps and heat. She needed a good car seat and a crib and hell, a whole bunch of stuff she didn’t even know she needed.

Marc was just a guy responding to the chemistry between them. They’d been flirting, he’d leaned in, she’d turned her head, and he went with it. And why not? They were both single and obviously in the mood. But he wasn’t interested in car seats and he wasn’t making any promises.

She wouldn’t have believed them if he had. They’d just discovered they didn’t despise one another. There was no way she could consider him a part of her plans of any kind.

So if Luke asked about her and Marc she’d say it was nothing, a moment of stupidity, a surprise attraction that didn’t mean anything.

And it didn’t matter that she kind of wished it could mean something.

It was just a temporary thrill and thrills always wore off, leaving her wanting more. Always.

Chapter Seven

Maybe.

She’d said
maybe
to Luke’s proposal.

When Marc repeated those thoughts in his head for the twenty-sixth time, he finally tossed down his spoon and whipped off his apron.

That crazy chick.

They’d talked about this. She was supposed to tell Luke how she honestly felt about him once and for all so he could get over her and move on.

And what did she do with the perfect opportunity? She said
maybe
.

Luke was probably out reserving the church and ordering flowers right now.

Flowers. Marc scoffed at that too. Luke had brought Sabrina roses? She wasn’t a roses kind of girl. She wasn’t a sweet romance kind of girl. She was sexy, fun, up-all-night, stay-in-bed-all-day kind of girl.

Luke was a roses, sweet romance kind of guy.

This was never going to work.

But she’d said
maybe
.

Holy hell. Luke was giving everything up for her.
She
was giving everything up for him.

Did she realize that? Luke was a Justice birth-to-death guy. If she married him she would never leave, she’d never sing again, she’d never travel. And Luke. He thought he loved her. He’d have the white picket fence and the kids and the dog. But he wouldn’t have a woman who worshipped the ground he walked on.

And he deserved that.

What were they thinking?

Marc grabbed his car keys off his desk and headed for the parking lot, barking orders to his staff over his shoulder as he went. He decided to ask Sabrina what was going on first. And not analyze why he wanted to see her so much more than he wanted to see Luke.

He pounded on Kat’s front door seven minutes later.

Sabrina came to the door, her hair up in a ponytail, a pair of short shorts that rode low on her hips and a tight white tank top that bared her stomach. And no bra.

She didn’t even say hello.

Neither did he.

His gaze slid from head to toe and back up. “That’s what you’re wearing around?”

She didn’t look surprised to see him. She spread her arms wide and asked, “Like what you see?”

To anyone else in the world she would look like a woman who’d been moving and unpacking.

To him she looked sexy as sin.

He stepped across the threshold, crowding close to her when she didn’t back up to let him in. “The only thing about your body that I have issue with is your mouth.”

“Really?” She blinked up at him with fake innocence. “But there are so many great things about mouths.”

And he wanted her to demonstrate every single one of them. On him. Twice.

But that was beside the point. “Yeah, maybe when they’re shut,” he said.

“What are you pissed about now?” She finally stepped back and let him in.

“You said
maybe
. What the fuck is that?”

“It’s an answer.” She scowled at him. “He asked me a question and I answered.”

“I thought we talked about what a bad idea you being with Luke is.”

“We did.”

“I thought I said that you needed to tell him you didn’t want him.”

“I thought I told you that I wouldn’t be able to do that.”

“He deserves more than gratitude. He deserves love. Do you want him, Seattle?” Mark moved in close, backing her up against the wall by the stairs. “Because there’s no maybe there. It’s a yes or no. You do or you don’t.” He kicked the door shut behind him.

She looked up at him. He, unfortunately, looked down. And saw that her nipples were beaded, clearly outlined against the soft cotton of her tank top. She was turned on. By him.

He finally admitted that
this
was why he’d come over. They’d been interrupted before and his palm still tingled with the memory of the shape and weight of her breast. And her reaction to him.

Marc lifted a hand, making sure Sabrina knew exactly what he was doing. She sucked in a breath but didn’t stop him.

He cupped her breast, brushing the tip with his thumb and she moaned, her eyes slipping shut. Marc watched her face as he brushed it again, then took her nipple between his thumb and finger and rolled it, squeezing gently.

“Feel that?” he asked gruffly. “
That’s
want.”

She opened her eyes, met his gaze and licked her lips. “I know.”

He bent his head and she came up on tiptoe at the same time, their mouths meeting hungrily. Her breast pressed more fully into his hand and her hand went behind his head, keeping him close.

“Marc,” she gasped as he pressed in pelvis to pelvis.

“I want to see you,” he rasped. This was insane, but he was done thinking.

Without hesitation she reached down between them and pulled her tank top off and over her head.

Her bare breasts begged for him to touch. They were small and round and firm, the nipples his favorite color of pink. He ran the tip of his finger from the base of her throat, where her skin was flushed, to the tip of her right breast, where he played for a minute.

“You look good in pink,” he said, lifting his eyes to hers.

“Thanks,” she breathed with a little smile.

“Show me more.”

“You still think I have more piercings, don’t you?” she asked. Her teasing was breathless but he loved that she was teasing. This wasn’t mindless lust. She knew exactly what she was doing.

And so did he.

“I want to take inventory of a lot more than piercings. I want to know every single freckle on your body.” He kissed her again, his hand moving to cup her mound.

She ground against his hand, moaning. “Yes.”

She was hot, even through her shorts and he needed to feel that heat on his skin. He slipped his hand into the front of her loose shorts. Her stomach tensed, but her back arched, bringing her closer to his searching fingers. He felt a silky strip, leading straight to her clit. As the pad of his middle finger skimmed over it, she moaned his name. Loving that sound he returned to the sweet spot, pressing and circling.

She gripped his biceps in her hands and her head bumped back against the wall. He bent to kiss her neck, his finger sliding lower and finally into the wet heat that he craved. She was panting as he pumped first one finger then two into her, returning to her clit, then plunging deep again and again.

“Marc,” she groaned.

He lifted his head, looked at her with her eyes shut, her breasts bouncing softly, her one leg wrapped around his so that her heel was at the back of his knee.

He wanted nothing more in that moment than for her to come and come hard. He didn’t care about the intense pressure behind his fly. He didn’t care that his heart was pounding so hard he could barely hear her moans. He wanted her to come. For him. “Seattle, look at me,” he said huskily.

Her eyes fluttered open, but they were unfocused.

“Let go,” he urged. He continued to fill her again and again with one hand as he reached to cup her breast with the other. He ran his palm over the hard center, then tugged the nipple gently. “Give it up for me.”

Her eyes met his and she pulled herself forward to kiss him. He ate at her mouth as he found her clit again with his thumb, his middle two fingers deep.

Then he felt her inner muscles begin to tremble. Her tongue stroked his greedily and he pressed and stroked and circled until finally she broke, the orgasm tightening her muscles around his fingers, pressing her pelvis into his hand, his name gasping from her lips.

They both heard the car pull into the driveway at the same time.

She dropped her head to his shoulder and pulled in a deep breath. “Thank God that whoever that is wasn’t five minutes earlier.”

“Or even two.” He couldn’t help the smug smile he felt on his lips. He’d done that to her. He’d made her feel
that.

She pulled away from him and he reluctantly removed his hand from her pants. She grabbed her tank top and started to pull it on.

“Why don’t you go put some clothes on?” he suggested. “I’ll answer the door.”

“I have clothes on.” She glanced down at herself as she said it.

He stopped for a moment and looked at her. She was mussed, her lips swollen, her cheeks were pink from the rub of his whiskers and her nipples were still prominent through the soft cotton.