Taming the Wolf (14 page)

He cleared his throat. “No electricity, huh?” Unless you counted the electrical currents pulsing through his veins, heating his blood.

She shook her head. “I just got out of the shower and was about to blow-dry my hair when it went out.” Stepping away from the door, she moved soundlessly through the living room, lighting fragrant candles that cast long willowy shadows against the walls.

Marcus watched her, unable to tear his gaze away from her. In the white robe, with her dark hair clinging sleekly to her face and neck, she looked like a mythical creature silhouetted against the flickering flames.

Finished with her task, she started back toward him. “Did you get wet?”
Blood rushed straight to his groin. “What?” he said hoarsely.
In the candlelit gloom, he saw her eyes glitter. “Were you caught in the downpour?” she clarified, and he wondered if he’d only imagined the breathless note in her voice. “I can get you a towel.”
He shook his head, even as rainwater trickled into his ear. “I’m fine, thanks.”
A streak of lightning flashed across the sky, briefly illuminating the room. Their gazes locked, crackling with awareness. His body burned. His heart pounded so hard, it threatened to shatter in half.

Samara drew a soft, shallow breath. “I’m going to put on some clothes,” she told him, turning and starting away. “I’ll be right—”
Reaching out, Marcus caught her arm to halt her retreat. She didn’t resist as he curved an arm around her waist and pulled her against his body so that her head fell back on his shoulder. The feel of her lush, shapely ass pressed against him made his dick throb with need.
He bent his head to nuzzle her throat, brushing his lips over her silky, fragrant skin, catching droplets of water with the tip of his tongue. She trembled hard.
“I couldn’t stay away any longer,” he whispered huskily in her ear. “I tried, but I couldn’t do it. You’re in my blood, Samara.”
Her breath quickened as he drew her earlobe into his mouth and gently suckled. Taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he turned her face toward him. Dark, heavy-lidded eyes met his. Holding her gaze, he leaned down and kissed her, slow and seductively. Her lips were warm and incredibly soft, parting for him as he swept his tongue inside the velvet nectar of her mouth. She hungrily responded, sucking on his tongue as her body strained closer. His erection swelled painfully against her buttocks. His fingers tangled in her wet hair as he kissed her harder, crushing her lips under his, stealing her breath and giving it back as they panted into each other’s mouths.
With his other hand he reached inside her robe and cupped her left breast. She gasped, arching upward as he tweaked and tugged the nipple into a tight bead. She moaned and closed her eyes as he used both hands to fondle and caress her breasts until she writhed against him in mindless pleasure.
His heart thundered as he reached down to untie her robe, then slipped it from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. He stroked his hand slowly down her side, tracing the voluptuous curves of her body, splaying his fingers across her flat belly. She shivered beneath his touch, her lids at half-mast as she gazed at him over her shoulder.
“Marcus…” Her voice was barely audible.
“I want you,” he murmured thickly, bending to touch his mouth to the nape of her neck, then trailing lower, kissing between her shoulder blades and running his tongue down her spine until he felt her shaking. “I want to do unspeakable things to you,” he continued, sinking to his knees behind her. “Things you can’t even begin to imagine.”
“Marcus…” she whispered pleadingly.
The breathless desire in her voice only fueled his own arousal. He wanted her so bad it hurt, but he wanted to savor every moment of the seduction, prolong their satisfaction for as long as he could.
He cupped the juicy swell of her rump and began to knead the muscles, groaning deep in his throat from the exquisite pleasure. “You have the sweetest ass I’ve ever seen,” he uttered, low and rough. “Makes a man lose his damn mind.”
She quivered uncontrollably as he kissed her buttock, the back of her knees, between her upper thighs.
“Bend forward and open your legs for me,” he huskily commanded. When she obeyed, he pressed his mouth to the hot, pulsing mound of her sex. She groaned sharply and arched her back.
Lust raged through his body, throbbing in his groin. Grabbing her hips, he rasped his tongue over her slippery feminine lips, murmuring hoarsely, “Damn, you taste like honey.”
“Oh God, oh God…” she whispered brokenly as he licked, nibbled and suckled her, filling his mouth with her essence. He tortured her until he thought she might explode, her hips undulating against him, her breath loud and gasping.
He brought her to the brink of fulfillment, then pulled away and lurched to his feet, drawing a protesting moan from her. Hands shaking, he unzipped his pants, almost breaking the zipper in his haste. He removed a condom from his wallet and quickly sheathed his engorged penis, so stimulated he nearly came from the pressure of his own hand.
As a rumble of thunder shook the house, he led Samara into the candlelit living room, bent her over the arm of the sofa, then entered her from behind. She cried out wildly, clasping him in her tight, wet heat. Too ravenous to be gentle, Marcus thrust hard and deep, taking her roughly and possessively. She moaned loudly, holding her bouncing breasts as he rammed in and out of her, showing her no mercy.
“Marcus…I’m coming!” she cried as her inner muscles contracted around his dick and her body trembled violently beneath him.
Moments later he exploded inside her with a force that tore a raw expletive from his throat. He gripped her waist and shuddered against her, rocked by one of the most intense orgasms he’d ever had. Fitting that it should be with Samara, the first and only woman he’d ever fallen in love with.
It was several minutes before he could even attempt to move. As he slowly withdrew from her body, a rush of warm liquid seeped out and slid down her inner thighs. He’d never been with a woman who came as hard and freely as Samara did. It was unbearably erotic.
He turned her around and lifted her onto the arm of the sofa, then wiped some of the slick moisture from her thigh. As she watched in heavy-lidded arousal, he put his fingers in his mouth and sucked her nectar from his hand.
“Delicious,” he pronounced huskily.
Her eyes rolled back in her head as a ragged moan escaped. Without another word, Marcus lifted her into his arms and started from the living room, in search of a bed for round two.
He was inside her, her legs wrapped around his waist, before they even made it to the hallway.

Hours later, they lay spent in each other’s arms, listening to the rain lashing against the windows, drowsily counting the number of times lightning arced across the night sky.

“Aren’t you glad you didn’t stay away?” Samara murmured, sprawled on top of him, her thick hair spread across his bare chest.
Marcus smiled lazily in the darkness. “Mmm, most definitely.”
She hesitated, then admitted, “I was beginning to think you’d lost interest.”
Hearing the wistful note in her voice, Marcus felt a sharp pang of guilt. He kissed the top of her head. “I don’t even think that’s possible.”
He felt her smile against his chest, and it filled him with warmth. “Before I forget,” he drawled wryly, “My father and brother send their regards.”
“Yeah?” There was unmistakable pleasure in her voice. “Well, tell them I said hello. I really enjoyed meeting them.”
“Believe me, the feeling’s mutual. Dad called me this morning wanting to know when you’d be returning for another visit.”
Samara chuckled softly. “I didn’t think he’d welcome me into his home again after the way I beat him and his friends at poker.”
Marcus grinned. “Where’d you learn how to play like that anyway?” he asked, angling his head to get a better look at her face. “I meant to ask you on Sunday.”
“I worked as a bartender during college. One of the other bartenders was a diehard poker player, so he thought it’d be fun to teach me.”
Marcus chuckled. “Let me guess. You became greater than your master.”
“You know it.” A flash of lightning revealed her satisfied grin. “I beat him so many times that he finally dared me to sign up for one of those national poker tournaments. Naturally, I couldn’t resist the challenge. A bunch of us rented an RV and drove cross-country to Vegas for the tournament and…” she trailed off, lifting one shoulder in a modest shrug.
“You’re kidding me. You’re a national poker champion?” When Samara nodded sheepishly, Marcus threw back his head and roared with laughter.
She lifted her head and glared playfully at him. “What’s so funny about that?”
Shaking his head, Marcus wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. “You never cease to amaze me, Samara Layton. A humanitarian executive by day, a blues-singing poker guru by night.”
“I wouldn’t exactly say I’m a guru.”
“You beat Sterling Wolf. Trust me, you’re a guru.”
She grinned. “He took it pretty well though.”
“That’s because he likes you. Come to think of it, you seemed to have all of his buddies wrapped around your finger when it was all said and done.”
“I liked them. A few of them even reminded me a little of my grandfather—or at least how I’d always imagined him to be. He died in a car accident before I was born, but my grandmother told me so many stories about him that I felt like I knew him personally. I always wished I did.” She paused, then added a little forlornly, “I envy you and your family, Marcus. The three of you seem very close.”
“We are,” he soberly agreed. “We had no other choice.”
Silence lapsed between them for a few minutes. Thunder rumbled in the distance, signifying that the storm was finally moving off.
“I saw my mother today,” Marcus said quietly. He hadn’t planned to tell Samara about his mother’s visit, but the moment the words left his mouth, he knew it was the first of many private things he’d be sharing with her.
Samara grew very still against him, understanding the import of his announcement. “Where did you see her?”
“She showed up at my office late this afternoon. She and her husband are in town for a medical convention at Johns Hopkins.”
“Your mother remarried?”
Marcus flinched in the darkness. “Yeah, she did.”
“How long has it been since you’ve seen her?” Samara asked gently.
Marcus drew a long, deep breath. “Ten years. I’ve stopped counting the days and months,” he added, a shadow of cynicism twisting his mouth.
“It must have been very hard for you to see her again, after all this time,” Samara murmured.
He nodded, then surprised himself by quietly admitting, “I didn’t know whether to ask her to leave, or beg her to stay.”
He could feel Samara’s compassionate gaze on his face. “What did you do?”
“Neither. She left her card for me to call her at the hotel where she’s staying.”
“And will you?”
Marcus stared up at the darkened ceiling, his gaze unfocused. “I honestly don’t know, Samara. A part of me knows I should forgive her for cheating on my father and causing the divorce. I’m thirtyfive years old, too damn old to be holding grudges from childhood. But any time I see her, or just think about her, all I see is her betrayal. And for the life of me, I can’t get past it. Know what I mean?”
“I know exactly what you mean,” Samara murmured, and Marcus remembered she did understand where he was coming from. Understood it better than anyone he’d ever known.
He couldn’t remember whether that was a good or bad thing.
Shoving aside the unsettling thought, Marcus rolled her onto her back and pinned her beneath his body.
“I have just one question for you,” he said, smiling down at her, wishing he could see her beautiful face better.
Lazily she rubbed the sole of her foot along the length of his calf. “What’s that?”
“Do we have a game of strip poker in our future?”
Samara threw back her head and laughed.

hen Marcus strode through the door of the conference room the next morning—fifteen minutes late to a meeting with his senior associates—three pairs of eyes regarded

him in surprise.
“Sorry for being late,” he said as he took the seat that had been
left vacant for him at the head of the conference table. Someday
he’d like to shake things up a bit and see what would happen if he
sat somewhere else.
“How’s everyone doing this morning?” he asked, opening a thick
manila folder crammed with notes and filings he’d brought to discuss
during the meeting.
When his query was met with silence, he glanced up from the
table. Donovan, Timothy and Helen Whitlaw were staring at him as
if they’d never seen him before.
Marcus frowned. “What?”
Donovan spoke first, hitching his chin toward Marcus’s open
collar. “You forgot something.”
Marcus glanced down and saw that, in his haste to get dressed
that morning after leaving Samara’s house, he’d forgotten to put on
a tie. It was an uncharacteristic oversight, but he didn’t think it
warranted the strange looks he was getting from his colleagues. “I’ve got some extra ties in my office,” he said briskly. “I’ll grab
one after our meeting. Now—”
Timothy discreetly cleared his throat. “Uh, boss?” When Marcus
looked at him, he pointed to his jaw. “You’ve got a little shaving
cream…No, right there.”

Marcus wiped the dab of foam from his face and reached inside his breast pocket for a handkerchief. When he didn’t find one, he swore softly under his breath.

“Don’t worry about it,” Timothy said, an amused note in his voice. “You got all of it.”
“Anything else?” Marcus demanded, looking around the table. “Do I have toothpaste on my chin? Is my fly open?”
Donovan, Timothy and Helen exchanged startled glances. And then, without warning, they burst into laughter.
Even Marcus felt a smile tugging at his lips.
The conference room door opened, and Laura stuck her head inside. “Sorry to interrupt—” She broke off, staring at the three laughing attorneys.
“What’s up, Laura?” Marcus asked, since he seemed to be the only one capable of speech at the moment.
“There’s a phone call for Ms. Whitlaw,” Laura said. “I wouldn’t have interrupted, but the caller said it was very important.”
“Who is it, Laura?” Helen asked, sobering.
“It’s your realtor. She said she tried to reach you on your cell phone, but—”
Helen jumped up from the table. “I’ll take it in my office. We’re engaged in an intense bidding war over my house in Atlanta,” she explained to Marcus as she hurried to the door. “I’ll be right back.”
“Take your time.” As Marcus poured himself a cup of coffee from the carafe on the table, Donovan and Timothy continued grinning at him.
“That must have been one helluva night you had, boss,” Timothy remarked.
“Uh huh,” Donovan chimed in. “Coming in here all disheveled. No tie, shaving cream on your face…”
“How is that such a big deal?” Marcus muttered.
Donovan laughed. “If we were talking about anyone else, it wouldn’t be a big deal. But we’re talking about you, man, so that changes the whole conversation. Marcus Wolf doesn’t show up