Chapter Sixteen #2
Remy turned back to her, eyes radiating warmth as he took her in. After seeing his wardrobe choice, she was glad she went with her high-waisted skinny jeans and a tucked-in primrose fitted tee. She didn’t wear a lot of jewelry, so it was a simple gold pendant necklace over the shirt.
“You also look wonderful,” he said, then leaned forward and placed a kiss on her cheek. She swore Alex swooned in her peripheral. Marcee breathed him in, and the familiar scent, sharp and spicy, wreaked havoc on her hormones, taking her back to the night at camp.
“Ready to go?” she asked. She had to lean away to clear her head.
“Of course.” With his hand on the small of her back, he directed her to the front door, holding it open while she walked out. Those light fleeting touches were as heady as a glass of red wine.
A black sedan sat idling in the driveway and Marcee was pleasantly surprised when Remy opened her door for her.
She slid into the passenger seat, a smile taking up permanent residence on her face.
It was exactly what she needed after the week she’d had at work.
The time between Thanksgiving and Christmas was the worst at school.
No one actually wanted to do any work, and the girls were ready for an extended break.
“Right then. You’ll have to direct me to the theater. I’m still learning my way around.”
It took them longer to get there than she expected, due in large part to Remy driving like a senior citizen, white-knuckling the wheel. When they got to the parking lot and exited the car, he let out a sigh.
“Don’t worry, gramps, you got us here in one piece. Ten years later, but in one piece.”
“Fair enough. I haven’t adjusted to driving in America yet. It goes against every fiber of my being to drive in the right lane.” His hand rested on the small of her back again, steady and sure. A girl could get used to it.
The lobby was empty, aside from them and the two teenagers at the concession stand. While Remy paid for admission, she scoped out the candy selection. It was a date, after all. You gotta splurge a little at the movies.
“Okay, I’ll take one packet of Twizzlers, a box of Mike and Ike’s, and another of chocolate-covered raisins.” She turned to Remy, who’d come up beside her. “Popcorn?”
He looked insulted. “Of course.”
Marcee finished the order, including a soda, and handed over some cash, staring Remy down when he protested.
“I let you pay for the tickets.”
“They were two dollars!” he scoffed.
The clerk handed us the food, grinning. “Dude, go with it!”
She flashed him a smile. “Thank you.”
Remy took the popcorn and drinks. “I’m carrying this, then.”
“No objections here!”
The theater itself was almost empty, with a singular couple seated at the front near the screen. Remy picked a spot in the back, middle of the row. She was giddy, as if they were two teenagers headed around second base.
“Planning on making out?” she whispered, settling into her seat and opening the candy.
The lights dimmed, but not before she saw him smirk.
“If you’re lucky.”
God, did she want to get lucky.
The movie started, and for a while, they sat comfortably next to each other, swapping candy and popcorn while a bachelor party went awry in Las Vegas.
Half an hour in, Remy rested his arm around her shoulders, tucking them closer together. She’d dated plenty of cocky guys who knew their way around a good pick-up line or move. Remy was different. His self-assuredness and charm weren’t from years of practice; they were just a part of who he was.
The heaviness between them grew, making her want to sink against him and never get up. Every little touch was the most delicious game of foreplay.
His fingers stroked the skin below her shirt sleeve, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
As she crossed her legs, their knees brushed, his warmth seeping through her jeans.
When she cackled at something particularly witty in the film, a strand of hair fell forward from behind her ear. Before she could push it back, Remy’s fingertips grazed her jaw and cheek.
The sensuality in that faint touch was almost her undoing.
When he tucked the hair back behind her ear, she leaned into his hand. Their eyes locked, both as intense as they were when focused on a soccer field.
There was only one goal Marcee wanted to score that night.
Their kiss was slow and deep, an exploration of ground they’d only briefly visited. There was a promise in it, of something more—something potentially earth shattering.
She teased his lips with her tongue, an invitation he readily accepted.
“You taste like butter,” she murmured, pulling in a shaky breath. The desire coursing through her body made her second-guess whether she’d ever been properly kissed.
“And you taste like paradise.” He pulled her against him, hand wrapped in her hair while the other stroked gently down the side of her neck. God, she loved the way he kissed with his whole body, leaning into her and making her feel like there was nothing else in the world.
Desire raced through her, leaving her shaky with need.
She pulled away, lips swollen and aching for more. “Wanna take me home, superstar?”
He grinned and Marcee knew she was a goner.
“More than anything in the world.”
The car ride to Remy’s house was a blur, her mind glazed over with the promise of what would come next. She couldn’t stop looking over at him, resisting the urge to make him pull off the road and have his way with her in the backseat.
“If you keep staring at me like that and squirming in your seat, we might not make it home,” he said between clenched teeth. If she thought he was white-knuckling it before, it was nothing compared to then. His arms and back were rigid, as if he might burst out of his skin at any moment.
The stars were a blanket of shimmering glory above them as she tilted her head and looked out the window, breath fogging the glass. She’d never wanted anyone so much in her entire life.
“I can’t help it,” she replied. “All I can think about is every single way I’m going to make you squirm when we get there.”
Remy groaned. “Jesus, Marcee.”
The tension in the car reached an unbearable level by the time they pulled into his driveway.
“You drive me mad, you know that?” Remy opened the door and, when she stepped out, backed her into the car, his breath skimming down the column of her throat. His erection pressed against her, and she moaned, arching into him.
“I didn’t think you were into exhibitionism, Coach.” Marcee ran her nails down the back of his neck, the other snaking up the back of his shirt. He felt so good. His muscles rippled and tensed beneath her, barely a taste of what was to come.
Remy let out a half chuckle, half growl before reaching around and gripping her ass. “Nobody is seeing you squirm but me. Stop talking and wrap those legs around me.”
Was there anything hotter than bossy Remy? She jumped and latched onto him, squealing a little as he carried her effortlessly to the front door.
As soon as the world was shut out, Marcee unraveled herself and backed him against the door, pressing every inch of her body flush to his. She wanted it—him—so much she was vibrating with need, ready to rip her clothes off. It was as if everything about him was made just for her.
Her lips molded into his, then trailed across his jaw before she slowly traced her tongue down his neck, nipping above the spot where his pulse pounded furiously.
His groan was low and primal. “You have no idea how badly I want you, Marcee.”
Oh, she knew. If it was even half of how bad she wanted him, then they were likely to explode.
“Hmmm, let’s see. Do you want me more than… a cup of afternoon tea?”
She tugged off her shirt and threw it on the couch, ready to bare it all, ready for him. His hands encircled her waist as he drank in her ivory lace bra, sheer enough her nipples peaked through.
“Hell yes,” he said, hands flexing over her skin as he licked his lips.
Marcee stepped back out of his reach. “Do you want me more than you wanted to win at camp?” Slowly, she unbuttoned her jeans and shimmied them to the floor until she was in nothing but her matching panties.
He closed the gap between them, his breathing labored as he traced a finger down her stomach and along the silken edge of fabric, making her gasp. “Oh, yes.”
Smiling, she took a step back and reached behind her back.
“And do you want me more than a winning season?” It was playful, sure, but part of her needed the response.
She needed to know that he was ready to go to the same lengths she was.
She unhooked her bra and slid the straps down one by one, letting the lace fall to the floor.
He was on her in an instant, hoisting her up and around his waist. “If you don’t know that by now, then you haven’t been paying attention.
” He dipped down, flicking his tongue across her nipple, then the other.
His breath tickled her chest as he added, “I want you more than I want to win. I want you more than any championship trophy. I want you.”
His words wrapped around her as he walked them to his bedroom. She was throbbing with need, wet and ready for him. She arched upward, brushing her nipple against his lips, and when he took her in his mouth, sucking and biting, she swore she almost came right there.
Remy’s room was tidy, of course, but bedecked in elegant mahogany furniture with a massive four-poster bed taking up most of the space. He laid her across the down comforter and undressed, standing at the foot in nothing but his boxer briefs.
“Now. Please.” She needed her hands on that chest or digging into his muscular ass as he moved above her.
Their mouths met halfway, crashing together like waves. She savored the noise he made as she reached inside his briefs and stroked him, slowly at first and then faster, before pushing him onto his back.
God, was she ready for a ride. She wanted a ride so punishing and hard her thighs would be on fire the next day when every step she took reminded her of him.
“Is this okay?” Marcee asked, pausing. She’d always been an aggressive lover and not every partner had been okay with that.
“Fuck, yes. Don’t stop.” Remy slid his hand under her panties, teasing her with a finger until she bucked. “Condoms are in the bedside drawer.”
She could barely take her eyes off him as she crawled across the bed and dug around in the drawer, going off touch. He slid his boxer briefs down and her mouth went dry. Finally, she could observe him at her leisure, touch him how she wanted.
“May I?” She ripped open the package, the latex poised over her thumb.
“Please.”
Marcee slid the condom down his shaft, teasingly slow. “Such good manners, Coach.” Victory was in her grasp. All that was left was to take it.
Her panties were off in a blur of ivory, and she was bare before him. Her thighs were smooth against his as she mounted him, teasing his tip and biting her lip when his hands braced her hips.
She didn’t ease onto him slowly, nor did she do it fast. It was the perfect combination of restraint and power, allowing her to experience every inch he had to offer. And talk about inch by perfect inch. He shuddered beneath her hands splayed across his chest.
“Remy,” she breathed, closing her eyes and rolling her hips. “I’ve wanted this for weeks.”
“Take it, then.” His words came out in a growl, and she wanted, needed, to know what her name sounded like on his lips as he lost control.
She didn’t hold back. He was strong enough to take whatever she threw at him, and she wanted him to know she wasn’t a delicate flower to be crushed. When he pushed up from the bed and seated her in his lap, his hands pressing her down and into him were all she needed to find release.
Marcee wasn’t sure what tumbled from her mouth while her body exploded, back arched as she clenched and unclenched around him—it was more incoherent sounds of ecstasy than words.
His hips thrusted upward, each burst of inner friction lighting all of her already sensitive nerve endings on fire until something happened that never had before: she came again.
“Oh my God, Remy!”
His body shook and with a final, hard thrust, he found his own release. “Damn, Marcee.”
Tenderly, he laid them back on the bed and she mourned the separation. It was on the tip of her tongue, something she knew she absolutely couldn’t say: she could do this forever.
This was ridiculous, nothing more than post-orgasm hormones. You didn’t know that sort of thing after a few dates… right?
Shit. She was so screwed.
Remy rolled onto his side, a satiated smile making his face glow. “Where did you come from, Marcee Ackerman?”
“Brooklyn, New York.”
His laugh filled the darkness of the room, a candle flickering in the night, and he trailed kisses down her neck, nuzzling into the crevices.
“I love that smart mouth.”
“It’s pretty good at other things, too,” she murmured, shivering as he brushed her ribcage with his fingertips.
“That so?”
“Mhmm.”
“I might need a minute here, tiger.”
“Challenge accepted.”
Just as she suspected, he didn’t need a minute.