Page 68 of The Hanukkah Hoax
“You taste like sugar.” He groaned, trying to chase her lips but failing as she pulled away, smiling, then rested herself on his hips, triumphantly holding up the condom she knew to ferret out of his jeans. “Bloody thief, you are.”
“A careful thief,” she corrected, rolling it on, suggestively squeezing the tip of him for good measure, delighting in how it caused his top teeth to bite down on his lower lip.
Her heart kicked an exuberant rhythm behind her ribs, making her toes tingle.
How, in all the world, could she ever have doubted this man? Especially when he gazed at her with so much more than mere affection in his eyes?
There wasn’t just heat there, but a compulsion, an essential obligation, as if Alec would run out of air if he could not get to her fast enough.
She’d never been crucial before, and yet there was no other way to describe the impression he made on her.
Alec growled. “I’ll be needing more of your sweet mouth.”
Letting herself fall further under his heady spell, Marisa situated her body above his hard length. “I just need more of you.”
Alec gripped her at the waist, then gently guided her into position, an act that robbed sawing breaths out of both of them. He filled her, stretching her slowly but perfectly, easing her comfort by kissing whatever bits of skin he could access: a finger, a wrist, the fleshy pad at the base of her thumb.
All erogenous zones, apparently, as she leaned her head back and worked her hips against him.
“Oh, God,” she breathed. “You feel so good. You feel?—”
“More.” As promised, Alec rose up again and claimed her mouth as he moved within her, his pace punishing in its depth but not nearly as punishing as the passion he wrought out of her.
“Alec, my skin’s on fire. If you keep that up?—”
“Then I’ll burn happily alongside you.”
“I’m not entirely sure that’s something I should encourage.”
“I am.” Seeming not to care one whit about his imminent demise, he snaked a hand through her hair and secured his possessive grip to the side of her face, once again fusing their mouths as he pushed her higher and higher toward a bliss she hadn’t bothered with for far too long.
Whatever had or hadn’t been said yet, Marisa was a thousand percent sure that Alec owned her heart. Just straight up stole the damn thing out of her chest and tucked it away, protecting the bleeding thing from judgment and scrutiny behind all that adorable Scottish bulk.
Keeping her safe, as he always had.
She moved faster, her body writhing with more insistence now that she’d wholeheartedly decided to claim all this man had freely given her.
Fake, real, none of it fucking mattered.
Because with one sweeping cry rippling through her body, she collapsed against the man, who captured her pleasure into his kiss as he clutched her close and shuddered through his own release.
Somewhere in the distant corners of her mind, beyond all the tense thoughts of Christmas Balls and Argentina and Plant Nannies, sat one little kernel of delight. Marisa plucked that thing and held it close to her heart as she snuggled in against Alec’s warm chest.
I wish I could keep him here forever.
Chapter 27
Alec tugged at the sleeves of his suitcoat for the third time while he waited for Cal to park the car. He probably should have driven, but he didn’t entirely trust his movements.
Or motivations.
Fomenting fratricide wasn’t anything he’d previously given (a lot of) thought to, but when Cal stumbled into the apartment that morning way the fuck earlier than expected, he’d mortified Marisa out of Alec’s arms and sent her scrambling to the bathroom. After a brief introduction and a few parting words of see you both at setup, she’d kissed Alec hastily, ignored Hugh entirely, and left man and beast alike glaring daggers at Cal.
So, yeah, he had zero qualms about sending his brother to park the car in the back lot and have him meet Alec at the Green.
The bastard could fucking walk and freeze his arse off.
Murderous thoughts aside, the few minutes of alone time did give Alec the opportunity to appreciate the splendor that Monica and the rest of the recreation committee put on. He’d have whistled his admiration if his scar didn’t pull at his lip so uncomfortably.
