Page 35 of Marcus

“I think you should.”

“Close your eyes first.”

Cella raised a brow. “Why?”

“Trust me, Cella, and close your eyes.”

She did, making those long lashes of hers fan upon her skin as her head tilted down. He took a second, but no longer, to admire her soft, pretty features, and then he guided her after turning her around to the clearing just fifteen feet ahead. A little further, into the middle, they entered a building made of stained glass and coated on the outside with vines that grew all over the windows that acted as walls.

In the summer, it would be filled with roses.

Right now, it was only just coming back to life.

“Tilt your head up,” he said behind her, whispering the words into her ear. She did, and he rounded to her front, watching her face when he told her, “Now open your eyes.”

Cella stared up at the sky through the glass ceiling of a rose solarium that he remembered his mother spending a good portion of her time in during the summer months.

Another favorite place of hers.

Yeah, Cella stared at the sky.

But he watched her.

“My darling,” he repeated in English, “you are more beautiful than the sky and the stars, and I am not worthy of it.”

The column of her throat jumped as her gaze dropped to him, and he had the greatest urge to find out exactly what that soft-looking skin of hers would feel like under his palm while he kissed her, so he did just that. The palm of his hand found her throat under her jaw, curving tight and soaking in all her silky warmth as he closed the distance between them in a breath.

He’d been lucky enough earlier to find out there was nothing sexier in the world than this woman’s kiss. And the way she gasped against his mouth when he dragged the plump flesh of her lower lip between his teeth just to see if she might like that.

God, did she ever.

Her fingers fisted into the soft fabric of the vest under his suit jacket, and she yanked him close enough that her soft curves molded perfectly to his hard lines. Given how hesitant Cella had seemed to be about the prospect of a date or even the possibility of more with this night and him, there was no shame in the way the woman yanked at his pants, determined to open his belt and fly.

Brazen.

Bold.

Determined.

She knew what she wanted, and she was going to take it. That alone had his cock pressing against the line of his pants when her fingers drifted down to work at his zipper once she’d finally gotten his belt off.

“You have something, right?” she asked.

Her words whispered against his mouth, as he still refused to break that kiss until all he could think about and breathe in was everything that made up her.

From that spiced vanilla perfume that she wore, to the way her skin tasted just like sugar with a hint of salt. The sounds she made when his fingers flexed at her throat, and how her body ground against his without a care but had his cock harder than ever.

“Do you?”

Her hot demand had him putting just enough space between them that his lips hovered over hers as he asked, “What—”

A pink tint heated her cheeks. “A condom?”

Ah.

And there, even in her need and shamelessness that he found so sexy, there was still that part of Cella, he realized, that hadn’t done this type of thing in a while. She’d basically told him that, hadn’t she?

His first thought was to slow this down. Give her a moment. Let her think about whether or not this was really what she wanted to do with him tonight. In this situation and place, no less. But he knew better. She’d been sure of what she wanted a minute ago … Without even needing to hear what this woman wanted, Marcus already knew it.