Breathe with Me Page 37

“It’s stupid. Forget it. Let’s have sex.” I dive for his jeans but he rolls over me, pinning me beneath him.

“No. This won’t work if we don’t talk, so talk.”

“You talk.” I pout.

His lips twitch and his eyes light with humor, making me feel better.

“Okay. I love you. Your turn.”

“I love you too. Your turn.”

“I want to know why you suddenly withdrew from me.”

“I didn’t, I just…”

“What?” He rests his lips on mine for a moment, kisses me softly and pulls up, stroking my cheeks with his thumbs.

“I don’t want you to sell this house.” I bite my lip and cringe.

“Why?”

“I just don’t.”

He growls and laughs as he leans his forehead on mine. “Am I going to have to torture the information out of you? I have ways of making you talk, you know.”

“No you don’t. I’m a vault.”

He cocks a brow in that arrogant way he does and his naughty smile spreads over his mouth and I know I’m in deep trouble.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his lips tickling mine. “Challenge accepted.”

He nibbles my lips and rips the buttons completely off my button-down shirt as he spreads it apart and buries his face in my cleavage.

“That was a new shirt,” I inform him dryly.

“I like it,” he replies, not deterred in the least. He pushes back on his knees, pulls me up to take my shirt and bra off, then covers me with his broad body again, kissing my shoulder and down to my breasts, pulling the nipples into his mouth.

“Holy shit,” I whisper, burying my fingers in his hair then raking my nails down his back, gathering his shirt in my hands. “Take your shirt off.”

He grips his shirt and tugs it over his head then throws it on the floor with my ruined clothes and returns to kissing down my torso to the waistband on my jeans. He rubs his nose on my skin along the top of the denim, sending goose bumps over my skin.

“Mark,” I whisper and wiggle beneath him.

“Yes, love,” he says.

“I’m too turned on to go slow.”

He pops the button on my jeans and watches my face as he slowly lowers the zipper, making me bite my lip and moan in frustration.

“I’m frustrated too,” he says.

“I can help with that.” I reach down for his jeans but he takes my hands and pins them to the bed at my hips.

“Not that.”

I glare at him, not enjoying this game anymore. “I don’t want to tell you this, Mark. Just leave it be and fuck me.”

His eyes flare in anger. “No. It’s a simple question.”

“Not for me.”

He peels my jeans down my hips and legs then tosses them over his shoulder.

“Did you like it when I told you to take your panties off at the restaurant?”

“Yeah, it was fun.”

He kisses my belly, just below my belly button and takes a deep breath.

“You smell like you need to be fucked.”

His words make my entire body clench in anticipation. “I do.”

“God, you’re so fucking sexy, Meredith.” He’s panting now, watching me with molten blue eyes. “I’ll never get enough of you.”

He parts my thighs and gently spreads my lips with his thumbs.

“Your pussy is amazing. Small and pink.” He nudges my clit with his nose, making me gasp. His tongue swirls around my opening before he sinks a finger inside.

“Oh God.”

“Why don’t you want me to sell this house, Meredith?”

“I don’t know.” I bite my lip and then cry out when he backs away from me completely. “Hey!”

“Anticipation,” he reminds me as he kisses my inner thigh. I glare down at him and he laughs, the jerk.

“I’m so glad I’m entertaining you while I need you inside me,” I reply angrily. Suddenly, his face changes. He’s no longer amused. He’s… I don’t know.

For the first time ever, I can’t fucking read him.

“Mark?”

He lays his forehead on my belly, grips my hips in his hands and holds on to me for a moment before looking up at me again with love and fear and… hope?

I sit up, cup his face in my hands and kiss him passionately, breathing him in. God, he always smells so good. His arms wrap around my waist, lifting me against him. I wrap my legs around his hips and press my center against his denim-covered cock, kissing him with everything I have.

I hate that I saw fear in his eyes. What could he possibly be afraid of?

“I don’t want you to sell the house,” I whisper as I place soft kisses over his cheeks, “because I love this house. I could see us living here, having kids here. This is a family house, but the family I see in it is ours. That’s why I don’t want you to sell it.” I press my face to his neck, unable to look him in the eye. “I didn’t want to say that because this is still so new, and kind of scary, but I couldn’t read you just now and I can’t stand that.”

He’s hugging me fiercely. I expect him to make me look him in the face, but he doesn’t, which is very un-Mark. Instead, he cradles my head gently; brushes my hair with his fingers and rocks us soothingly. Finally, he lays me on my back, shucks out of his jeans and covers me completely, resting his pelvis against my own.

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