30. Chapter 27 - Marley #2
My brain—my pain—stopped for the tiniest moment in time.
He coaxed my lips apart with the gentlest of nudges with his tongue and slid into my mouth with a careful caress.
He tasted salty and sweet, masculine sweat and mangos, and an unexpected burst of unadulterated want seeped into my shorts as his lips grew firmer—less exploratory and more dominant.
Ambrose was kissing me and I … liked it.
He tilted my head upward, deepened the kiss, and turned my brain into air-puffed cotton clouds.
Fuck, did I ever like it. I could get lost in his body and forget the entire world, but it wouldn’t take away the pain when I had to sleep tonight, without Nikki. Without Maddox.
He was an insufferable meathead, and a good man. I didn’t want to use him.
Hesitantly, I pulled away, immediately mourning the loss of his lips.
He gazed at me with a quiet intensity, cheeks flushed, as mine were sure to be, and lust glossed his eyes.
“That was really … great,” I said lamely. Jesus Christ, Marley. “You should know … I have feelings for Nikki, which is why this is hurting so much, and I—well, there was this thing with Madman and—” I am so fucking bad at this.
“I really liked that, but I don’t want to use you to escape my pain, okay?”
The words came out in a rush like I was racing to the finish line of sentence structure and stumbled over my own feet.
Ambrose cocked his head, but not an ounce of surprise showed in his returning stare. His gaze darkened to pitch, and he bit his bottom lip as if posing for a sexy fashion shoot.
“What if I want you to use me?”
Fuck me.
What was the harm in giving him that? To pour my pain into him with a dose of temporary pleasure? My heart and brain were at war, but my body was already signing the peace treaty to taste his lips one more time.
“Marley, are we going to get anything to eat?” Tessa’s voice, sounding like a timid child, scared and tentative. My heart broke for her, but it was the reminder I needed to get back to my responsibilities. I attempted a soothing smile and turned.
“Yes, of course, Tessa. You sit back with Brooks and we’ll go gather some fruit.”
Pushing away from temptation and completely ignoring the wetness in my panties, I shuffled backward, putting a few feet of distance between Ambrose and me as I stood.
He rose with me, his eyes no less molten, staring through me with such charged energy I’d disintegrate at another touch.
“I don’t have a lot of self-control right now, so I’m going to need you to stop looking at me like that.” My cheeks burned brighter at the admission, but they flared to nuclear temperatures when he shot me the most satisfied of smirks. The Cheshire Cat would have been proud.
“Come with me to get some fruit?” I asked, choosing the responsible route instead of jumping the hot man’s bones and grinding him into a tree. Without waiting for a response, I headed toward a known mango grove, in the direction of the plane.
Charlie’s floating form hovered above me as I trekked, and Ambrose’s footfalls crunched along a little behind.
It was a lot drier up here on the sloping ground, the tree canopy so thick it absorbed much of the rain before it could get through.
We hopped over smaller puddles and avoided the muddier patches of clay, but thankfully, we’d have a relatively protected place to sleep tonight—minus the animals.
Whether it was panic, desperation, or sheer apathy, the thought of snakes in this jungle didn’t seem to matter anymore.
We walked the five-minute journey in companionable silence with a new energy between us, an intimacy we hadn’t shared before. Instead of being uncomfortable, it was … nice.
Read a thesaurus, Marley.
The mango grove was just as we’d last left it, still overburdened with ripening fruit.
We didn’t have baskets to carry it in, so I scanned the trees around me for a large fallen leaf we could use.
My gaze caught on the familiar figure of a man about fifty feet away, sodden and stumbling through tree roots with a determined grimace.
My heart stuttered. Was he an apparition? Was I so far down the rabbit hole I was seeing Nikki now, too?
His head lifted, and all air caught in my throat.
“Marley?” he shouted, that beautiful British croon echoing through the trees. “Thank fucking god. Marley!”
“Nikki!” I screamed, in terror, in delight, in complete inconceivability.
My feet moved of their own accord and I raced through the ferns and bushes without care until his arms wrapped around me, warm, and strong, and real.
“Oh, thank god,” I cried into his damp shirt, my tears barely absorbing into the already saturated fabric. “Thank god, you’re okay.”
His grip tightened to the point of bruising, but I didn’t care. Nicolas Seymour, my flight attendant, my friend—and fuck me, I could love him if I gave it a chance—was here, in the flesh, alive.
“I’m here, baby girl.” He spoke as if hearing my inner thoughts, repeating his assurances over and over into the top of my head. “And I’m never leaving you again.”
Without missing a beat, he released me from his hold, cupped both cheeks in his palms, and kissed the ever-loving shit out of me.