10. Chapter 10 Marcus
Chapter 10: Marcus
" Y ou're making this worse," I tell Scout, who's rearranging my pillows for the fifth time. Luna's already cleaned her food bowl twice, both dogs more anxious than I am about tonight.
The cabin's spotless. My latest work visible in the shop. Daisy likes watching me carve, and she is my weakness.
Steaks are ready. Wine's breathing. I even changed the damn sheets, just in case.
A truck engine echoes up the drive.
Shit.
She's early.
Scout and Luna bolt for the door as headlights sweep the windows. I take one last look around, candles lit, fire stoked, nothing too obvious, and open the door.
My brain shorts out.
Daisy stands in the porch light wearing a little black dress that should be illegal in at least three states. Her hair's down, falling in waves past bare shoulders. She's traded her work boots for heels that make her legs go on forever.
"You're staring."
"You're early." My voice is rougher than intended. "And you look like you're freezing."
"Couldn't wait, and it's worth the cold to see your face now." She moves past me into the cabin, filling the space with her scent. The dogs circle her legs, tails wagging. "Nice place."
I follow her inside, watching her explore. She moves like she belongs here, trailing fingers over my bookshelves, examining carved pieces, studying photos.
"Your family?" She stops at one showing three generations of Steel men.
"Grandfather, father, me. Before the war."
Before the scars. Before everything changed.
She touches my younger face in the photo. "You're smiling."
"Used to do that sometimes."
"Still do." She turns, closing the distance between us. "When you think I'm not looking."
Her perfume fills my head. The dress dips low in back, showing smooth skin I want to taste.
"Wine?" My voice sounds strangled.
"Please."
I escape to the kitchen, needing space to breathe. She follows, because of course she does.
"Need help?"
"Got it covered." I hand her a glass, careful not to touch her fingers. One spark and I'll combust. "Dinner's almost ready."
She perches on a barstool, crossing those legs. The dress rides up and my mouth goes dry.
"So." She sips her wine, watching me over the rim. "This is where the mountain man hides."
"Not hiding."
"No?" She tilts her head.
"Steaks are done."
She laughs softly. "You can't deflect forever, Marcus."
Watch me.
I plate the food, aware of her eyes following my movements. We eat at the kitchen island because the dining table feels too formal. Too much like a real date.
This isn't a date. It's just a get to know you dinner.
Right.
"This is amazing." She takes another bite, making a sound that tests my control. "You have hidden talents?"
"Basic survival skill."
"Nothing basic about this." Her fork drags across her lower lip. "Any other skills I should know about? You're too far away though.”
Fuck.
I am. I've kept the island between us, maintaining safe distance.
She slides off her stool, wine glass in hand. "Show me the rest of your sanctuary?"
Bad idea. But I lead her through the cabin, the living room with its wall of windows, small office, workshop in back. She studies everything, asking questions about pieces I'm working on.
"And up there?" She nods at the loft.
"Bedroom."
Her eyes darken. "Show me."
"No."
She steps closer. "Please?"
That word in that tone. I lead her up the stairs.
The loft is simple with a huge bed, dresser, another wall of windows showing the mountain view. She moves to the glass, silhouetted against stars.
"It's beautiful up here." She sets down her wine. "Lonely, though."
"I like lonely."
She turns, moonlight painting her curves. "You like control."
My hands clench. "Same thing."
"Is it?" Another step closer. "Or are you just afraid?"
"Of what?”
"Of me." She challenged. "Touch me."
Christ.
I reach for her before I can stop myself. She meets me halfway, melting against my chest as my hands find her waist.
"I’ve been thinking about this all day," she murmurs.
"Just today?"
"Every day." She rises on tiptoes, bringing her mouth to my ear. "Every night."
I growl, pulling her closer. The dress is silk under my palms, her skin fire beneath.
"I can stop if you need me to.”
She nips my jaw. "Don't you dare."
My control snaps.
I capture her mouth, swallowing her moan. She tastes like wine and want. My hands roam her back, finding the zipper and then bare skin.
She tugs my shirt up, nails scraping abs.
I back her toward the bed. Her knees hit and she pulls me down, shifting until I'm cradled between her thighs. She grinds against me, her dress around her waist and I can feel her heat through my jeans.
"Please." She arches, bringing her core against me. "Marcus."
The sound of my name on her lips is pure heaven. I trail kisses down her throat.
Her hands find my belt. "Get naked."
"Wait." I catch her wrists, pinning them above her head. "Slow down."
"I’m done with slow." She wraps her legs around my waist. "We’ve been slow for weeks."
Can't argue there.
"Let me do this right."
"This feels pretty right." She rolls her hips and I groan.
She makes a hungry sound as I claim her mouth, hands fisting in my shirt.
She tugs my shirt up. "I need to feel you."
I let her strip it off, her hands exploring newly exposed skin. Her fingers trace my scars like she's learning braille.
"Marcus." Breathy plea.
"Patience."
"I’m done with patience." She rolls her hips against me. "I’ve been patient for weeks."
The dress falls down, revealing black lace underneath. The sight short-circuits my brain.
"Like it?" She smirks. "Bought it special."
I trace the edge with rough fingers, watching her shiver. "For me?"
"No, for the other mountain man I'm seducing." She gasps as I nip her collarbone. "Okay, yes. For you."
My hands span her waist, thumbs stroking bare skin. I explore her skin with mouth and hands, learning what makes her gasp, what makes her moan. She writhes under my touch, growing desperate.
"Please."
"Please what?"
"Touch me." She grabs my hand, guiding it where she wants. "Here."
Jesus Christ.
I trace her through black lace, watching her fall apart. Her nails dig into my shoulders as she rocks against my hand.
Her hands find my belt, clever fingers working the buckle. I catch her wrists, pinning them over her head.
"Behave."
Her eyes darken. "Make me."
I kiss her hard, swallowing her moan. Keep her wrists pinned with one hand while the other travels south again.
"Like that?" I murmur against her throat.
"More."
I oblige, watching her come undone. She's magnificent, all wild hair and flushed skin, fighting my grip.
"Let me touch you," she begs.
"No."
She swears creatively, then gasps as I find a sensitive spot. "Marcus."
"Hmm?"
"I hate you."
I bite her pulse point. "No you don't."
Her response is lost in a moan as I increase pressure. She's close. I can feel it in the tremors wracking her body.
"Let go," I murmur. "I've got you."
She shatters beautifully.
I hold her through the aftershocks, pressing kisses to her temple. When she can focus again, her eyes are molten.
"Your turn." She reaches for my belt again.
***
A phone rings.
We freeze.
It rings again, with Jake's ringtone.
"Don't answer it," Daisy begs.
But we both know I will. Jake wouldn't call this late unless something was wrong.
"What?" I growl into the phone, putting it on speaker.
"Sorry." Jake sounds grim. "But we've got trouble. Big trouble."
Daisy sits up, reading my expression. Her lips are swollen from kisses, hair mussed. It takes everything I have to focus on Jake's words.
"Where?" I'm already moving, Daisy following.
"Miller's Creek. There’s been a washout. Just took out three cabins. Families trapped."
Damn it
"How many?"
"At least eight people. Maybe more."
Daisy's already handing me gear, reading the situation. Her dress is askew but her eyes are clear.
"Ten minutes," I tell Jake.
"Copy that. Teams mobilizing."
I end the call, turning to Daisy. She's stepped out of her heels, all business now.
"I'm coming."
"Like hell."
"Those families will need somewhere to go." She grabs her keys. "Trading Post is closest. I can prep supplies, coordinate with emergency services."
Can't argue with that logic.
"Daisy." I catch her arm. "We will finish tonight.”
She rises on tiptoes, kissing me hard. "You can count on that!”
I watch her stride to her truck, still in that damn dress, I can't wait to strip her out of it.