Chapter 14 Marlowe
FOURTEEN
marlowe
Dancing is muscle memory—one of the only things I still recognize about myself.
Ballet was never my obsession. I loved it, sure, but it didn’t own me the way it owned the other girls in the company. And yet, ever since Declan “injured” me and yanked me out of Swan Lake, it’s like my body keeps begging for the structure. The form. The escape.
I miss modern. I miss street. I miss moving like I’m not caged.
But here, in my sham husband’s house, this is all I have. A few minutes of music. A few feet of floor. A stolen slice of air where no one is watching.
I close my eyes, let my body take over, let everything with Declan fall away.
And then—
I feel it.
A shift in the room.
Someone’s watching.
Little Raff stands at the edge of the mat.
He’s got Lola tucked under one arm, the cat’s belly exposed, yellow eyes full of hate as his tail swishes angrily.
He’s with two girls, one about his age and one who is taller, maybe about six or seven—telling the age of small humans is hard—stands behind him, her hand locked in Arnold’s fur as Clawzilla and Petal sit at her feet.
Monarch and Fiona cower in the doorway of the gym, as though they’re unsure if they want to cross the threshold.
The little girl is gorgeous with big, curious eyes. “What’s under the floorboards? Pepper said it’s under the floorboards, and I didn’t see a thing. Then he said bad words.”
“Very bad,” Raff says. “Like fuck. What are you doing?”
“Dancing.”
“Why?” the taller girl asks.
It’s a fair question.
“Some people like it.” I do a plié.
“Dumb people.” Raff giggles as he lets go of Lola, who hisses and swipes the air, stalks up to Petal, smacks the dog, and then stalks away.
I haven’t seen Declan since last night, and I decided to come in here to shave the edge off my stress. I need some semblance of normalcy back in my life. But right now, I wouldn’t put it past Declan to have the entire house spying on me, making sure that normal is a luxury just out of my reach.
“Can you show us?” the younger girl asks.
The only children I’ve ever interacted with are the very young dancers who would show up for fundraisers put on by the company. I never spent much time talking to them during those events. We just danced and took pictures together. But these kids…I’ve come to like them.
“Sure.”
I take them through some basics, and poor Raff falls over a lot as he tries to mimic my movements. He’s small and chubby, and his coordination isn’t quite there yet.
But he still loves it, and soon they’re all trying hard, giggling, and having fun. What’s more amazing is that I am, too.
A sudden sizzle makes my skin tingle. I turn my head and freeze.
Declan.
“Carry on,” he says, a sexy smirk curling his lips. “I’m entertained.”
Clawzilla saunters up to him and stretches in such an elegant way I’m almost positive he’s showing off.
But I end the lesson, flustered and hating myself for it. Raff rushes up to me and hugs my legs. “Tomozzow?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Tatty will still be here.” He lets me go and takes the taller girl’s hand. “Come on, Tatty.” The smaller girl follows behind them.
Then Raff sees his uncle and runs to hug him. “Dec!”
Declan hugs the little boy back, and the girls hug him next. Then Callahan steps into the room behind him.
“Daddy!”
Cal’s face lights up as he picks up his son and tosses him in the air. “Raff, have you been good?”
The kid looks at me. “Yes?”
With a laugh, Callahan lifts the kid on his shoulders. “Let’s go see your mammy.”
Clawzilla and Bruiser follow, just as a warm little hand slides into mine. I look down at one of the girls smiling up at me.
“This is Tatiana. Ava’s stepsister,” Declan says. “And Natasha, Seamus’s daughter.”
“Pleased to meet you,” I say to them.
Tatiana tips her face up to me. “Will you really teach us more?”
“I’d love to.”
“Thank you.” Arnold barks and Tatiana giggles, running over to the dog. The girls walk out of the gym together with Petal zooming after them. My animals are probably all in hiding now.
And I’m alone. With Declan.
“You didn’t hurt Leon, did you?” I ask, not having seen him since Ava escorted me into the house last night.
The muscle in his jaw tics. “Not yet.”
Anger bubbles up in my chest. I push past him, pure, carnal need spiraling deep inside of me as he takes my arm and backs me against the door so hard, a small hiss of breath escapes my lips.
He’s no longer touching my arm. No longer touching me.
“I’m going to ask you a question, so answer it carefully and honestly, Molly.”
“What?” I glare up at him, wanting to claw at him, drag him to me, devour him.
But I don’t move.
“Did you try to set me up in that truckyard?”
“Of course not, why would I?” I spit out. “How would I even know you’d be there?”
He shifts a little closer, and it’s maddening, his close proximity and his refusal to touch. It’s just cruel.
“You had me arrested.”
I let out a sharp sigh. “Yes, my father did. But that was a long time ago. And like I said, I didn’t know you’d be there at the truckyard.”
“True,” he mutters, finally grazing the prickled skin on my arm. My pussy throbs as he takes me by the chin, then reaches behind me to lock the gym door. “But you also like danger.”
“I don’t like danger.”
He kisses me, a deep kiss where his tongue plays mine like an instrument, sucking and coiling and taunting. I’m so lost, yet I have no desire to be found in that heated moment.
Declan traces his hands down over the length of my body like he’s learning every curve and line. He swallows my gasp when he slides a hand into my shorts and toys with my throbbing clit.
I kiss him harder as his fingers invade my slick lips. His voice buzzes against my mouth as those deviant fingers thrust in deep, making me tremble in his strong arms.
Then I hear his words.
“There’s a price on your head.”
He massages my clit as he delivers that message. But my body is already too far gone for my brain to react. And even though it’s shocking, wild, and scary, my pussy clenches and I come. Hard.
He pulls away, chuckling as he thrusts harder. Then his lips move to my throat, biting and licking my flesh. “See? Danger makes you come.”
I want to say he makes me come because it’s true. I want to say danger turns me on, but only when he’s touching me, protecting me, with me. I shudder, another orgasm crashing over me once again.
I push him away once the waves subside and my head is back in the game.
“No,” I rasp.
“Then what is it, Molly? Me? It’s me, isn’t it?”
He kisses me again and I kiss him back, hating he can pull so much from me, hating the softness and pressure from his mouth, the way his lips invite gentle, slow kisses that could melt a glacier and burn hotter than the sun. Soft, firm, hard, and demanding, I’d fall to my knees for all of them.
This man makes me lose my damn mind. He has always had that power over me.
And I hate that he makes me feel special in his eyes.
Especially when I’m not.
To him, I’m nothing at all. He’s said it plenty of times.
But I fall prey once again, each shared breath vanishing my common sense and replacing it with my insatiable need for him.
He lifts his head. “Well?”
“Yes,” I hiss, “it’s you, dammit, and it makes me hate you more.”
“Right back at you there, Molly girl.”
He lifts me like it’s nothing, carries me to the weight bench, and puts me down—slow, deliberate, like he’s placing me exactly where he wants me.
Then he drops to his knees in front of me, pulls off my shorts and my soaked underwear, and spreads my thighs with a possessiveness that makes my breath hitch.
His tongue drags up the entire length of me, starting at my perineum and ending where he seals his mouth around my clit. The suck, the swirl, the obscene precision of his tongue…Christ. It’s dark magic, the kind that can unravel with one single stroke.
I want to come again.
I want more.
I want everything he can take from me—and everything he can give.
I want him to take my ass.
He locked the door, I know he did.
But in my head it’s wide open, anyone could walk in, anyone could see us. That thought sends a jolt straight through my core. I grab him, haul myself off the bench, wrap my arms around him, and crush my mouth to his.
Our tongues clash, hungry and reckless. His cock grinds against me, thick and heavy and there. My God, I want him. I want all of him.
“We’re pretending to be husband and wife,” I breathe against his lips. “So I’m demanding you take me now.”
“That’s my line,” he murmurs, a wicked smile curving his mouth, “but I’m listening, Molly.”
I pull him toward me and kiss him like I want to tear his soul out of his body.
“Take my ass.”
His eyes darken. “You need to be—”
“Obeyed.”
“Oh, shite.” Declan’s grin is sinful. “You’re one of those modern brides, aren’t you?”
“Damn straight.”
He flips me onto all fours, my stomach braced against the bench, my ass up and spread for him.
Declan’s palm cracks against my bare cheek with sharp, stinging perfection.
A shocked gasp catches in my throat.
He does it again, slower, harder, drawing heat to the surface of my skin.
“Now that,” he murmurs behind me, “is a holy sight. Enough to make the heavens cry.”
My heart jerks, a painful twist I don’t understand.
I see him in the mirror, his gorgeous face carved with lust, almost savage. But his touch is soft as he drags a finger along my soaked slit, then to my tight rim, circling it with wicked promise.
Something inside me trembles. Cracks. Wants.
He’s devastating, too handsome, too intense, too much. His fingers move over me like he already knows every weak spot. And dammit, they’re all weak for him. He slips through my folds, teases my clit, sends every remembered orgasm roaring back to life…and then he pulls away, leaving me shaking.
My gaze flicks toward the door.
It’s…not closed. Or maybe it is.
There’s a shadow, dark and thick, right at the edge.
Or is it in my head?
I don’t know anymore. All I can think about is him.