Tainted Hearts (14 page)

Disbelief flickered in her eyes and anger
spiked through Marc. He took her hand and led her down the hall
into her bedroom. An eclectic mixture of colors and styles
identified the room with its owner, but Marc was looking for
something specific. He opened the closet door and smiled. The
backside was a full-length mirror.

“Tell me what you see.”

“I see me standing in front of you.”

He laughed. “You’re going to have to do
better than that. Start with me. What do you see when you look at
me?”

“I don’t want to do this, Marc. Please, just
make love to me.”

“I can’t,” he said gently. “You won’t let
me. Not really. You won’t let me get close enough to touch you,
much less make love to you.” A shiver shook her. He rested his chin
lightly on top of her head. “Then, I’ll start. Your hair is
amazing. Wild, soft, and it always smells so sweet.”

“I like my eyes,” she admitted. “They aren’t
as bright as yours, but mine are natural.”

He laughed at her subtle slur. He was trying
to seduce her and she insulted him. Very Tuesdayish of her. “I’ve
always thought you look like a woodland sprite. When you get angry
your eyes light up and your cheeks turn pink. That day in the
conference room, I wanted to throw you down on the table and ravish
you right then and there.”

She trembled and Marc cursed his wayward
tongue. “Does that frighten you?”

“No.” She shook her head, surprising him
with a blinding smile. “I’ve…”

He’d expected her to be embarrassed and shy.
Would she never react predictably? “Go on.” His heart thudded as he
anticipated her response. “You’ve what?”

“I’ve thought about you like that. I’ve
pictured us together.”

“Really?” Much to his horror, he felt his
own cheeks heat. “You’ve had sexual fantasies about me?”

She met his eyes in the mirror. “You just
described one of them.”

With his eyes locked on hers, he parted her
pajama top and cupped her breasts. “Were we alone in the room?”

“Yes, but we never knew when someone would
barge in on us.”

“What did I do to you? What pleased you
best?” He felt her nipples gather against his palms and watched her
skin flush. She was so into this. How long had prim, aloof Tuesday
Fitzpatrick been using him as a sexual surrogate?

Jealousy reared and bucked. He shook his
head. How could he be jealous of a fantasy—especially when he was
the fantasy?

“You never had to ask,” she whispered.

Another insult. No, more like a
challenge.

Supporting the soft fullness with his
fingers, he circled her nipple with his thumb. He glanced at her
reflection. She was watching his hand. He touched her, stimulated
her, thrilled by each gasp and quiver. She arched into his caress.
He flicked and rolled her nipples until they tightened into
pebble-hard points.

He wanted to turn her, to test his handiwork
with the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from
their reflection. A rosy flush colored her fair skin. Her lips were
parted, eyelids drooping as she gave herself over to the
pleasure.

His hand skimmed along her gently rounded
belly and sneaked beneath her panties. She caught his wrist just
before his fingers reached their destination.

“Easy. We’ll go nice and slow.”

Her fingers remained around his wrist, which
made the image even more erotic. He pushed into her damp curls and
groaned. God, she was wet. Parting her gently with his middle
finger, he felt her start violently and grinned into her hair.
Target located.

She made a throaty sound and closed her
eyes. He started to protest her visual retreat, but left it alone.
He was certainly enjoying the view and she was enjoying his touch.
That was enough for now. He gently circled her clit, creating a
subtle rocking motion with his hips. Her body’s response coated his
fingers and soaked her panties. His teeth nipped her earlobe,
sucking it slowly into his mouth. She cried out and the spasms of
her orgasm fluttered against his fingertips.

Guiding her away from the mirror, he pulled
her into his arms. She went willingly, shrugging out of the pajama
top. Her breasts pressed against his chest and her arms encircled
his neck. Their mouths came together, meshed in a deep,
breath-stealing kiss. She tasted faintly of wine and fresh, clean
woman. He wanted more.

He threaded his fingers into her hair,
tilted her head and fitted his mouth to hers more completely.
Stroking her tongue with his, he captured her sigh, breathed it in,
savoring her. He nibbled and licked his way to her neck. She
arched, offering her throat and her breasts in a gesture every man
understood.

He buried his face against her soft flesh,
flicking his thumbs across her nipples until she squirmed.
Capturing one tip between his teeth, he laved it with his tongue.
She pushed her hands into his hair and pulled him closer,
encouraging his moist caress. Drawing her nipple firmly into his
mouth, his hands continued downward.

Instead of pulling her panties off, Marc
slipped one hand inside the waistband and cupped her ass. His
fingers traced the deep cleft between her cheeks. Her skin was so
incredibly soft and warm. He wanted to explore her voluptuous
curves with his lips and his tongue, but he feared she’d retreat
into self-consciousness.

Still, he could get a whole lot closer. He
grinned, releasing her nipple and sank to his knees.

Hooking his thumbs under the waistband, he
slowly, teasingly tugged her panties down. He bent and kissed her
stomach, assisting the garment’s descent with his lips, working his
way from one hip to the other and back. The warm, evocative scent
of her arousal wrapped around him.

She trembled, her legs flexed and released,
tense and unsteady. “I have to…sit down,” she panted softly.

He steered her to the edge of the bed,
hurriedly skimming her panties down her legs before her bottom made
contact with the mattress. Kneeling on the floor, he pulled her
close, insinuating his body between her legs. He paused for several
long, leisurely kisses, while his hands explored her back. She
wrapped her calves around his hips, arching toward him.

“Lie back.” Marc guided her down.

Her expression was cautious, her gaze a bit
unsure. Despite her uninhibited response her past lover’s shadow
still covered her. “I won’t hurt you, Tuesday, and we’ll never do
anything you don’t want to do.”

“I don’t want to talk.” She tried to smile
but her gaze darted away.

He cupped her cheek, bringing her gaze back
to his. “Don’t talk, listen. I think you’re beautiful. You’re
brilliant. You’re amazing. Compassionate. You fascinate me.
According to popular standards, your face is unusual and your body
is imperfect, but I find you beautiful.” Arching over her, he
kissed her passionately, deeply, stroking her hips and squeezing
her thighs.

Pulling her steadily toward the edge of the
bed, he went right on kissing her. Their tongues swirled, the
erotic dance taking him from her mouth to his. Her fingers sifted
through his hair and massaged his shoulders, impatiently tugging on
his T-shirt. With one quick jerk, he pulled it off over his head
and flung it aside.

Did she believe it, yet? Had he made her
understand that she was beautiful?

He levered himself off her and whispered,
“You’re beautiful.” Pressing her breasts together, he circled each
nipple with the tip of his tongue.

Her pelvis rocked gently, begging for the
motion he withheld. Her desire thrilled him, made a corresponding
need pound through his body. He didn’t resist it; he accepted it,
embracing the ache, savoring the sweet anticipation.

He parted her thighs and pressed his open
mouth against the inside of her knee. She trembled. “Beautiful.”
His fingers trailed down her inner thigh, passing ever so lightly
over her feminine curls before ascending along the other leg.

“Marc.” She shifted restlessly, her eyes
heavy lidded, lips parted.

“Soon.”

He strained against the confines of his
jeans, but he refused to give in to his own longing. Not yet. Once
he pushed into her heated core, it would be over. Regardless of how
long he staved off his release, it would be over too soon.

Tuesday looked down along the length of her
naked body and shivered. Her white thighs framed his wide chest and
his handsome face bent over her, boldly regarding her most intimate
flesh. She pressed her lips together, battling the urge to snap her
knees together and cover her breasts.

Why wouldn’t he just do it? Leo had always
expected her to be naked and in bed when he got home. He didn’t
want to be bothered with undressing her. Their foreplay almost
always involved oral stimulation—her stimulating him—and then he’d
climb on top of her and pound away.

Marc raised her ankle to his shoulder and
bent her leg, nibbling on the underside of her knee. “That
tickles,” she protested.

He smiled. “Tickles in the warm tingly sense
or tickles in the never do it again sense?”

Here he went with the questions again. He
was still wearing his pants! “Just do it,” she muttered.

His eyes narrowed, his expression hardened
with purpose. “I don’t want to ‘just do it’. I don’t think you’re
ready for what I want.”

She gasped, kicking at him. “What is that
supposed to mean?”

He moved closer, lodging himself securely
between her thighs. She felt his fingers brush against her, sliding
easily against her passion-slick flesh. “Your body certainly
doesn’t want me to ‘just do it’.” He pushed into her slowly with
two fingers. She groaned and closed her eyes. It had been so
long…too long.

Easing up along her body, he dragged his
bare chest against her breasts and slipped his free arm beneath her
neck. Then he found her mouth with his. He moved, slowly but deeply
with his fingers. His mouth drifted to her cheek, then the
underside of her jaw, all the while he continued the steady motion
with his hand.

She arched, her inner muscles clinging to
his fingers. Wrapping her arms around his back, she responded
without reservation. Her breasts felt tight and heavy pressed
against his chest and each gliding thrust sent shocks of sensation
twisting through her. His mouth returned to hers, his tongue
matching the sweet penetration of his fingers.

Her fingernails dug into his back as
pleasure burst within her. He held her close, kissing her tenderly
until the last tingling wave receded. Then he stood and stared down
at her for a long, silent moment.

Muddled and replete, she didn’t understand
that he was leaving until he pulled his T-shirt over his head.
“Where are you going?”

Cupping her cheek with his warm palm, he
pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Back to the mediplex.” His gaze
searched hers for a moment, while his thumb feathered over her
lips. “Tuesday, we hardly know each other, and yet our lives have
been connected forever. I don’t know if I can explain how you make
me feel, but I’ll never be willing to ‘just do it’ to you.”

He paused on his way out the door and
flashed his sexy smile. “Thanks for the shower.”

Something brushed Marc’s hair, drawing him
from a fitful sleep. He sat in a chair next to Elise’s bed.
Carefully folded along the edge of the narrow mattress, his arms
had become a pillow for his weary head several hours before.

“Daddy?”

Marc looked up, blinking repeatedly before
his eyes focused on Elise’s pale face. “Hi there, sunshine.” He
stretched, his back protesting the awkward sleeping position.

“You look terrible,” she whispered, the jibe
softened by her sleepy smile.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I…could fly.” She tried valiantly to
raise her arms but couldn’t manage the gesture.

“You rest. Sleep’s what your body needs
right now.” He gently slipped his hand under hers. “I’ll watch over
you.”

She closed her fingers around his and gave
them a feeble squeeze. “I’d rest better if I’m not worrying about
you. I’m not the only one who needs sleep.”

Carefully bringing her hand to his lips, he
kissed her knuckles. “Did you and Laura rehearse this? She’s been
bugging me to scat for two days.”

Elise’s eyes widened. “I’ve been sleeping
for two days?”

“Mostly. You’ve been in and out a little,
but they’ve got you on some very strong medications.”

“Do we make them?”

He tucked her hand under the covers. “Make
what?”

“The medications?”

“I’m not sure. Probably. Why?”

Her eyes drifted close, but she smiled.
“Don’t want to help the competition.”

Marc chuckled, smoothing her hair away from
her cheek. “I think you’ve been spending too much time with your
grandfather.” He didn’t bother to say more. She was out again.

Elise had spent the better part of the last
two months with her grandfather and her nurse. Marc had scheduled a
series of nonexistent business trips, followed by a spontaneous
vacation, while he recovered from extensive facial enhancements. He
hated being parted from his daughter; another offense he added to
Job’s long list of infractions.

“Did you get any sleep at all?”

He glanced over his shoulder as Laura Finn
strolled into the room, her light brown hair pulled away from her
round face. He saw nothing of her sister in Laura. That was perhaps
the main reason he’d kept her on as Elise’s nurse. That and her
devotion to his daughter. She was efficient and trustworthy, but
more importantly, she genuinely loved Elise.

Their relationship had always been strictly
platonic. Laura dated from time to time, but none of her romances
had developed beyond intimate friendships. She shrugged off the
rumors of their affair as irrelevant nonsense and continued on in
her role as caregiver for Elise. Marc was as grateful for her
emotional fortitude as for her medical skill.