AllFreeNovel
Share Us
My confusion must show on my face because he caresses my cheek. “You, Bailey. You’re my anchor. You ground me. I don’t know how, or why. I do know that I’m going to kiss you.”
His fingers slip to the back of my neck as he eases me closer, giving me the opportunity to deny him. As though I would—considering I’ve been thinking way too much about kissing him, too.
He nips at my lips, teasing with quick darts of his tongue. He’s trying to go slow, but I want none of that. I want his lips hard against mine, his tongue exploring and determined. No tentative pressure, just heat and desire. I turn my head and whisper, “I want a real kiss, Marcus.”
He jerks back, surprise parting his firm lips. “A real kiss? Every kiss I plan to give you is a real kiss.”
“I’m… I’m attracted to you.” My face flames. Damned fair skin. “I want to know if you… I mean it’s okay if you don’t. I?—”
His lips firmly on mine stops my rambling speech and calms my whirling thoughts. The masterful way he takes my mouth is exactly what I’d hoped for. Fisting a handful of my hair, he pulls my head back to press hot kisses at the base of my neck. His teeth trail a hint of sharpness to the tender spot where my neck meets my shoulder where his bite is no longer gentle.
His rough chuckle vibrates deep in my core and I moan and undulate against him. With the sharp sting when he tangles more of my hair in his fist I offer him the other side of my neck. He strokes his tongue over my collarbone then sucks hard on my skin.
“Yes,” I moan, clutching his shirt in my fists. I want him to mark me. My breath catches in my throat. I want what? That’s not like me. What am I doing? Then his mouth covers mine again. Hard, Demanding. Yes, oh god, yes… this is what I want.
Despite my moan of denial, he lifts his head. His expression is as amazed and confused as my emotions. There are no words spoken as he disentangles his fingers from my hair and I smooth the wrinkles in his shirt. We remain in a soft embrace, simply looking into each other’s eyes until he slowly pulls back. I frown until the rude buzzing of the stove’s timer registers past my sensual haze.
I ease from his warmth but he grabs my hand before I escape and kisses my palm. “We’re not done, Bailey. Not by a long shot.”
“No, we’re not, Mars. But the casserole is.”
Conversation while we eat is easy as we tell each other about our lives. From the hesitancy of his speech, I know he’s holding back, hiding something. I’m not much better, only saying that a disagreement over methodology caused me to leave my previous position. Hopefully I made it sound like I made the choice to leave, not that I was summarily fired.
Mars doesn’t talk much about the life of a rock star, keeping his focus on the music itself. He confides that someday he’d love to write music for movie soundtracks—not necessarily rock and roll though. I haven’t listened to much of his music, I’m more of an oldies girl, but from what I have heard, I sense the talent behind the hard riffs and powerful drumbeats.
Mars stretches then stands and reaches his arms toward the ceiling, lifting his shirt and exposing his taut stomach and the hint of powerful abs. “I need to move,” he says as he twists his torso. “Nearly a week cramped over compositions or sleeping off my creative hangover has made me stiff.”
I can’t help myself. My gaze drops to the bulge at the front of his sweats. I swear it’s the only thing holding them on his hips.
He clears his throat and uses two fingers to point to his eyes. “Eyes up here, beautiful. I need to go clean up the mess I left. Can I come back when I’m done?”
“What if I help?” I can’t bear to let him out of sight. He won’t be here long and I’m discovering how greedy I am. I want as much time with him, as much of him, as possible.
He hesitates for a long moment. “No one’s ever seen the aftereffects. But I guess you already have. I would appreciate the help.” He gives me a wicked grin and the nearly physical touch of his gaze skims me from head to toe then back to settle on my mouth. “Then we’ll get back here sooner.”
“Yes, we will.”
“I’m thinking maybe a movie and popcorn? I haven’t had the opportunity to see any of the recent releases. Uh, you do have streaming?”
Dragging my mind back from my own longing, I find myself laughing. “I do. And plenty of popcorn and butter.”
“I’m in heaven.”
As we walk to his guest house he grows serious. “The reason I didn’t want anyone to come clean is because sometimes I discover hidden bits of lyrics or melodies mixed in with the trash. And often those bits complete a song. Or hint at another. It feels like… like I’ve hidden parts of myself so that no one can put the whole me together.”
“That’s deep.”
He gives a self-deprecating snort. “Everyone has hidden bits. Let’s not worry about them and see if we can make taking care of this mess fun.”
By the time we have the cabin cleaned and messaged Alice about the trash, the sun hovers low over the rolling hills to the west. His steps are slow, dragging. We should have taken the ATV. He’s not recovered from his song writing bender. As much as I want to invite him to my bed tonight, he needs more rest and healing. I drizzle butter over a huge bowl of popcorn while he chooses a movie.
The fourth time his eyes close and his hand drops to his side spreading puffy kernels over his lap, I turn off the movie. He sighs when I kiss his cheek. “Marcus, go to bed.”
His eyes remain closed. “With you?”
“Not tonight. You still need to rest. I’ll be here in the morning.”
“We goin’ plum pickin’ tomorrow?”
