Make You Mine (15 page)

“I’m still not allowed to talk to him?” Allie asked.

“Patience, Grasshopper. Now that he can’t reach you by phone, he has to come over. He should be here in a few minutes.”

Allie sighed while sliding a tray of fresh muffins into the display case. “I feel like I’m trapped inside an episode of
Scooby-Doo
and we’re fixin’ to set a trap for Old Man Jenkins.”

“Just stick to the plan. Before long, the curse will be broken, and you can skip off into the sunset.” Holding up a finger, Dev clarified, “After you take me to Vegas.”

“Fine, but don’t shock him again. That was unnecessary.”

Dev giggle-snorted. “But fun.”

“You’re such a sadist.”

“No worries, little sister. At this point, we want to encourage him, not drive him away.”

Though Allie didn’t say so, her faith in the plan was beginning to waver. She would continue to play along because it was her only hope, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that deceiving Marc was the wrong way to change him.

“Get ready,” Devyn said. “He’s here!”

After avoiding Marc for so long, that first glimpse of him was like a taste of chocolate after Lent—so satisfying that Allie wanted to weep.

Sun-kissed golden brown waves brushed his broad shoulders, showcased beneath a faded blue T-shirt that was sexier on him than a tux on any Hollywood actor. A pair of worn jeans hung low on his hips, and when he removed his sunglasses and locked those dark eyes on her, she couldn’t have held back her answering smile if she’d wanted to.

As he pushed open the door, Allie saw her excitement mirrored in his face in the way he gazed at her all soft and warm, with a grin that said she was the only woman in his world. Clearly, he’d missed her, and that validation lifted her spirits.

She only hated what she had to do next.

Shifting her focus to a point behind Marc’s head, she wiped all traces of emotion from her face, relaxing her shoulders and dropping both arms to her sides.

Mingled pain and disappointment widened his eyes, but she maintained her vacant expression and refused to indulge in tears. This step was too important to the plan, and thus, their future.

This is for the best
, she reminded herself.
Tough love, and all that.

“Allie?” Swallowing hard, Marc approached the counter and peered at her from above the glass bakery display. “Are you with me, hon?”

She remained silent, and through her peripheral vision noticed Dev tipping her head to study her. Dev snapped her fingers in front of Allie’s face.

“Hey,” Devyn said. “Wake up.” When her repeated efforts failed, she gripped one hip and asked Marc, “See what I mean?”

Allie began chanting under her breath, and as intended, it didn’t escape Marc’s notice. “What’s she saying?” he asked Devyn.

Dev bent an ear to Allie’s mouth. “Sounds like
pickled dove
.”

“Pickled dove?” he asked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“No, wait.” Dev pretended to listen again. “Scratch that. I think she’s saying
fickle love
.”

Marc huffed a breath and ran a shaky hand through his hair. “It’s the same line from Juliette’s curse.”

“Makes sense,” Dev said. “That old magic is keeping you away from Allie so you can’t hurt her like your great-great-granddaddy did to Memère.”

“But I don’t want to hurt Allie.” Marc’s gaze traveled over the chalkboard of bakery specials while he scratched the back of his head in contemplation. “Don’t you have some gris-gris lying around?” he asked. “Something we can tie around her neck to break the trance?”

“It’s not that simple,” Dev said. “Jinx removal isn’t one-size-fits-all. I need a broken chain and ingredients specific to our memère, like—”

“Dirt from her tomb?” Marc interrupted. “Allie keeps some in her backpack.”

Devyn spent the next several minutes assembling a gris-gris bag with Marc’s help using, among other things, a broken silver anklet from Allie’s jewelry box. When the bag was ready, Devyn tied it around Allie’s neck and stuffed it down the front of her shirt so it lay directly against her skin.

“There.” Dev patted the lump beneath Allie’s shirt, then linked their hands and chanted a prayer in Creole. She stepped back and joined Marc in waiting for a reaction.

“Purest faith will set you free,” was all Allie said.
Come on, Marc. Show some faith
.

He scrubbed his face with one hand and groaned in frustration. “What now?”

Devyn shrugged. “I’m not as talented as Memère was. Maybe we should wait and see what the mambo says.”

Marc closed the distance and took Allie’s cheeks between his palms, bringing with him the scents of sunshine and soap. She hoped he couldn’t see the pulse pounding at the base of her throat.

“Allie,” he murmured, gazing into her eyes.

When she didn’t respond, he lowered his mouth to hers and nearly ruined everything. The soft brush of his lips made her breath hitch, a reaction he must have noticed, because he pulled back in surprise. Then he did something that caught Allie completely off guard.

Leaning into her midsection, he tossed her over one shoulder and pushed open the door to the storage room. Her eyes flew wide as her hair tumbled toward the floor and all the blood rushed to her head.

“Hey, what’re you doing?” Devyn called.

“We tried it your way,” Marc said as he hauled Allie into the back room. “Now it’s my turn.”

Allie’s head throbbed in the awkward upside-down position as Marc carried her past the storage room and up the stairs to her apartment. This wasn’t the reaction she’d wanted from him.

She’d hoped Marc would demonstrate his faith by proclaiming his love, maybe asking for a long-term commitment or a weekend away, not by slinging her over his shoulder like an industrial-sized sack of flour. What was his strategy here? To lock her inside the bedroom until she snapped out of it?

As it turned out, she had the bedroom part right, but he had no intention of locking her inside without him.

He slammed the door behind them, and the next thing Allie knew, she was standing with her back to the wall, both wrists pinned above her head while Marc pressed his body against her. With his free hand he tipped her chin. Allie barely had time to gulp a breath before his mouth slanted hard against hers and turned her knees to pudding.

She kept her lips immobile, but Marc tasted of sweet cola and lust, his lithe hips pushing her into the wall and electrifying every cell in her body. Holding back was nearly more than she could bear.

“Come on, Allie,” he whispered into her mouth. “Wake up for me.”

She dug her thumbnails into her palms and gave him nothing.

He refused to accept defeat, taking her bottom lip and sucking it gently while stroking her cheek with his thumb. Lord help her, he felt so good—a cool drink of water after a week’s drought. The blissful assault went on and on, weakening her defenses with each tender touch. She was only able to resist until their tongues met; then she folded like a cheap suit.

She’d missed him too much to pretend otherwise.

She closed her eyes and leaned into his kiss, opening to him with a sigh that betrayed the depth of her need. At her reaction, Marc made a male noise of contentment and lightened his touch, teased her with the tip of his tongue without allowing her to catch him. He brushed his lips back and forth against hers and whispered, “You’re back.”

Silently, she strained against the hold on her wrists so she could run her palms all over him, but instead of releasing her, he tightened his grip.

“I’m glad.” He moved to her ear and took her lobe between his teeth, then kissed a trail down to the base of her shoulder. “I missed you.”

While she struggled with whether or not to admit the same, Marc captured her breast in his palm and wiped her mind clean. He thumbed her nipple in lazy circles, bringing it to a hard point beneath her bra.

“Did you miss me, too?” he asked.

She answered with a gasp, and he bent low to gently bite her through the thin cotton shirt separating them.

“Did you?” he asked against her breast. When she didn’t respond, he wedged a muscular thigh between her legs and pushed against her in just the right spot. A jolt of pleasure tore through her. “Answer me.”

“Yes,” she whispered, gazing at him from beneath heavy lids. “I missed you, Marc.”
More than you can imagine
.

He pulled back his thigh and replaced it with his hand, then slipped it beneath the hem of her skirt. Without missing a beat, he cupped the dampened fabric of her panties and massaged her there.

“How much?” he asked.

It was all she could do to contain a moan. She arched against his palm for more pressure, but he halted his movements.

“I said
how much
?”

“A . . . a lot.”

He chuckled quietly to himself while teasing her with a brush of his knuckles. “Did you mean that, or was it a confession under duress?”

“I meant every word,” she said, tugging at her bound wrists. “Let go of me and I’ll prove it.”

“Uhn-uh.” He pressed closer until she was trapped between two walls—one of plaster, the other of solid muscle. His thumb slipped beneath the bottom of her panties, and he started petting her, making her slick and swollen with desire. “Let me take the wheel.”

Allie’s legs trembled. She would have collapsed if Marc wasn’t holding her in place. She quit struggling and surrendered to his control, allowed herself to savor the decadent play of his fingers, the graze of his teeth against her neck, the sinful whisper of breath in her ear. The minutes passed in delicious agony as he stroked her with masterful skill. Marc’s dominance topped her most erotic fantasies, his devotion to her pleasure drawing a series of wild moans from her throat.

She closed her eyes and let him have his way with her, but just as her muscles coiled for release, a knock sounded on the bedroom door. Marc flinched and withdrew his hand, nearly sending Allie into hysterics.

“Allie?” Dev shouted from the hall. “Everything okay in there?”

God bless her, Devyn was a wonderful sister, but Allie needed her to go away—now. “I’m fine,” she called, the desperation clear in her voice. “We’ll be down in a few minutes.”

“A few minutes?” Marc repeated and shook his head. “Not for what I have in mind.”

“Make that an hour,” Allie hollered.

From the other side of the door, Dev grumbled, “Pass the brain bleach,” before her footsteps retreated briskly down the hall.

As if nothing had happened, Marc squeezed Allie’s inner thigh and began kissing a trail along her jawline. “If you missed me so much,” he said, “why didn’t you call?”

Allie was pretty sure she’d prepared an answer for that, but all the blood had left her head and traveled south. After a moment’s hesitation, she told him, “I wanted you to come to me.”

Which was the truth, more or less.

“It worked, didn’t it?” he said. “I couldn’t stay away.” With a challenge in his eyes, he used the dull edge of his thumbnail to draw swirls along the inside seam of her panties. “So now that I’m here, what else do you want me to do?”

Heat crept into her face, but she was too far gone to stay quiet. “Touch me, like before.”

He licked his lips and glanced down at the hand moving beneath her skirt. Again, he tucked his thumb beneath her panties and skimmed her with a whisper graze. “Like this?” he asked. “Or . . .” Gingerly, he pinched her slick bud between two fingers and slid them up and down, sparking to life a thousand nerve endings that lit her up like the Fourth of July. “Like this?”

Allie’s eyes rolled back and her knees gave out. Marc reacted instantly; otherwise she would have collapsed to the floor.

Pride lifted the corners of his mouth. “I guess I have my answer.” He stopped his erotic slide and speared her with a look so hot she nearly climaxed right there. “But I still want to hear you say it.” He used one thumb in a taunting tickle. “How should I touch you, Allie?”

Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears when she told him, “The second way.”

“Did you like that?”

“Yes.”

“Ask me nicely.”

She swallowed her pride and begged. “Please? Please touch me again.”

After a lingering kiss, he resumed his massage, and for the next several minutes, they each watched Marc’s wrist tendons flex as his gifted fingers rubbed sweet, mounting tension low into her belly. Both their breaths were deep and shuddering, Marc’s control clearly slipping as he thrust his erection against her thigh. But every time she skated near the brink, he’d lighten the pressure to bring her back down, promising, “When you come, I’ll be inside to feel it.”

“Now,” she said. “I want you, Marc.”

“Not yet.” He withdrew his hand and trailed a glistening index finger along her collarbone, then licked her skin clean. “I want to taste you first.” Pulling back, he glanced at her wrists, still held high above her head. “But to do that, I’ll have to let you go.”

She bit her lip and nodded, both eager and disappointed to regain control of her hands.

Marc pointed at her wrists. “Keep them where they are. No matter what happens, you don’t move. Understand?”

The dangerous timbre of his command sent a thrill through her. “Yes.”

He released her, and she rotated both wrists to restore circulation while keeping them in place. Marc knelt on the floor and shoved her skirt around her waist, then shucked off her panties and tossed them aside. While guiding her heel atop his shoulder, he glanced up as if to make sure she’d obeyed him, and only then did he lift his mouth to the juncture of her thighs.

The first lick weakened her, arms slipping an inch. Marc used his mouth with just as much skill as his fingers, but that was the problem. With each decadent suckle and lap of his tongue, Allie found it harder to support her body, let alone her hands. Eventually, she couldn’t stay vertical any longer.

“Please,” she said. “I need you.”

When Marc stood from the floor, she noted the change in him—the feral hunger in his gaze and the way he tore at the button of his jeans and jerked down his zipper. He took possession of her wrists with one hand while freeing his erection with the other. Allie widened her stance in anticipation of taking him inside her, smooth and hot and hard. In her impatience, she writhed against him, unable to wait a second longer.

Marc’s desperation must have matched hers, because he didn’t even bother to lower his pants before nudging his rounded tip inside her. At the contact, they shared a long groan, but he withdrew as abruptly as he’d entered.

“No,” she pleaded. “Don’t stop.”

Marc tipped their foreheads together and reached into his back pocket for a condom. “This will just take a second.”

“We don’t need one,” she said. More than anything, she longed to feel his warm, naked skin inside her, no barriers between them. “I’ve been on the Pill for years.”

But a tear of plastic proved he was unwilling to take the risk.

He rolled the latex down the length of his shaft and wasted no time burying himself to the base in one powerful thrust that emptied Allie’s lungs. Her disappointment vanished. All that existed was the rush of pleasure as he pinned her to the wall with his hips and slid in and out of her aching center in strokes so slow she wanted to scream.

Her breaths came in pants, her nerve endings glowing impossibly hotter while he ground a hard rotation against her, then another. Pleasure mounting, she whimpered and looked to him for release.

As always, he knew what she needed. Lazily, he traced her mouth with an index finger and stared at her in wide-eyed wonder. In that infinite moment, something beautiful passed between them. The last bit of Allie’s heart melted in surrender, every piece of her now in Marc’s possession.

He plunged deep, her lower back pounding the wall with each quick stroke. Marc never released her gaze, and as tension broke into ecstasy, her inner muscles shuddered in wild spasms that coaxed a cry from her lips. With another deep thrust, he held inside her, stiffening in his own climax. Connected as they were, both in flesh and soul, Allie didn’t think it was possible to love him any more than she did right that second.

A few breaths later, Marc moved his hands to her face and kissed her, soft and slow—the kind of kiss that told her this was more than sex for him. Finally free, she twined her arms around his neck to extend the intimacy.

“I want to be with you, Allie,” he said, still cradling her between his palms.

“I want that, too.” She pictured their future together—a thousand exquisite moments just like this one—and she wanted it so badly it hurt. Any other outcome was unthinkable.

“But I need your help.”

She listened as Marc recounted the previous days’ events, down to reading his great-great-great-uncle’s letter. She nodded and feigned surprise in all the right places, but her heart sank when he asked for assistance breaking Memère’s hex. No matter how she justified the deception, she was still lying to the man she loved.

“We’ll have to do some research,” she said, unable to meet his gaze. “I’ve never tried anything this powerful.”

He nuzzled the side of her neck. “Whatever it takes.”

Those were the words she’d wanted to hear, but Allie had to force a smile. “Don’t worry, baby. We got this.”

She had to stay strong—she loved Marc too deeply to fail him.

•   •   •

Twenty minutes later, a very satisfied Marc took Allie by the hand and led her downstairs to the bakery shop, where her sister was leaning over the sales counter, using one of those handheld icing bags to draw cartoon dicks onto oblong sugar cookies.

Never a dull moment around these Mauvais women.

“Secret hobby?” he asked. Knowing Devyn, she’d probably take a rolling pin to all those innocent schlongs when she was finished. “Or wishful baking?”

She rolled her eyes while piping a pair of balls beneath a member that hooked a little too far to the left. “We got a last-minute order for a bachelorette party tonight.” She slid a glare at Allie. “And since the owner was taking an extended break, I got stuck with this glamorous job.”

“Oops,” Allie said with an apologetic grin. “Thanks for being on top of it.”

“While you were
under
it,” Devyn muttered. “But no problem. It’s my lifelong dream to sit around all day drawing dicks.”

“Let me help.” Allie filled another bag with white icing and began frosting the tip of each cookie.

Marc frowned at the implication. “That’s disturbing.”

“This is nothing,” Allie said. “Once I had to bake a giant red velvet penis cake—with cream filling inside.”

“Classy.” Who knew women had such dirty minds? “Why don’t you give me that voodoo book you were talking about so I can research spells while you two give those cookies their happy ending?”

Allie jerked her head toward the far end of the counter. “Second cabinet from the end. But be careful; it’s older than mummy dust.”

She was right. The volume of yellowed journal pages was hand-stitched together and bound in something that looked like aged burlap stretched over wood. A chill skittered down his spine when he rested it on the counter and opened the front cover.

“What am I looking for?” he asked.

Allie turned to her sister. “What do you think?
Lave tet
?”

“Nah, that takes three days.” Devyn focused on her cookie art until she’d finished another wang, then turned a thoughtful gaze to the ceiling. “A smudge stick cleansing with extra gifts for Memère might be enough. We can always try the
lave tet
if that doesn’t work.”