WickedSeduction (5 page)

Was the goon in this city or another? Was he following her?

Each time Tor had run past Alice’s Wonderland, he’d searched
the area for anyone who looked out of place. The only people he saw were
middle-aged or elderly shoppers, their faces red from the soupy air.

Somehow, he had to bring up the subject with her tonight.
Not to pry but to see if Marnie needed protection. Tor would see she had as
much as she needed. All he had to do was give Dante a call. The cops here would
do anything for Dante…or for Tor, for that matter.

Only, how to approach such a troubling subject with Marnie?

Tor pondered the problem for most of the day and still lacked
a solution by the time he reached her door, ten minutes ahead of schedule. One
strap of his backpack hung over his shoulder, his art supplies inside. In his
other arm, he carried a large bag of goodies from the restaurant, his stomach
growling at the heavenly odors. There was boliche mechado for him, fricasé de
pollo for Marnie, tamal cubano for them to share, and to top everything off,
flan de caramelo for dessert.

He knocked, eager to share his bounty, along with whatever
else Marnie allowed.

If she was here.

Despite his raps, seconds passed without her acknowledging
him. Maybe she was in the bathroom. He knocked again.

“Tor?” Marnie asked through the door.

She’d answered so quickly this time, he realized she’d been
there, on the other side, all along. Suddenly he noticed there was no peephole.
Given what he suspected she’d been through with an ex-boyfriend or ex-husband,
she should ask the building manager to install some security.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m a little early.”

“That’s okay.” There were three metal clunks and a pause
before the door swung in.

Tor stared, unable to help himself. She had on a touch of
mascara, clear gloss on her lips. Marnie’s hair looked and smelled freshly
washed, her apartment scented with soap and her perfume. She’d worn another
skirt tonight, one of those long jobs with lots of tiers, this one in a
beautiful Indian print, the orange, gold and green threads complementing her
coloring. Unlike her last skirt, the waistband of this one hung low, grazing
her navel, the hem reaching her ankles, swishing just above her bare feet. He
liked her long, slender toes.

Her top, made of a stretchy green fabric, had a scoop neck,
sleeves long enough to cover the scars on her arm and ended approximately an
inch below her breasts, baring her torso, hugging her curves.

Tor’s throat constricted with lust, heat pouring into his
needy cock. Thankfully, his jeans were too heavy for his damn rod to tent the
fly.

Especially since Marnie just so happened to be looking in
that direction, before her attention inched up to his chest and the white knit
shirt he wore. Although Tor would have preferred a tank top in today’s heat, he
hadn’t wanted to appear too casual.

“Hi.” Marnie lifted her face to his, her beautiful eyes
sparkling with pleasure, color rising in her cheeks.

Damn.
She looked good enough to eat. “Hey.” He
smiled.

Marnie did too, at last glancing at the bag in his arm. Her
lids slipped down with the deep breath she took, her delicate nostrils flaring
slightly. “Wow, you smell good.”

He laughed. “That’s the food, which you have beat by a mile.
You smell awesome and look even better.”

Her blush deepened, though she didn’t seem embarrassed. Tor
thought Marnie looked happy, maybe even free, emotionally. Whatever had
happened between the last time they’d seen each other and now, he was grateful
for the change, hoping he’d had some small part in the transformation.

“Come in, please.” She stepped aside.

Tor noted three things instantly—the place was immaculate,
she’d closed all the blinds even though the angle of the sun kept the rays from
pouring inside, and her queen-size bed dominated everything else in the room.
At least, in his mind. He stared at the gold-and-cream comforter, a rush of
heat making his jeans feel too tight. Forcing himself to look elsewhere, he
took in the small nightstand, a lamp with a shade boasting pink fringe, an
old-time wardrobe to the side, the narrow kitchen table, two chairs and a
closed laptop on one of the counters. The furnishings reminded him of the kind
his grandparents had in their homes. Dated pieces you couldn’t buy at Sears or
Penney’s. Tor wondered if this stuff was from the shop downstairs. He’d noted
vintage pieces in the windows when he’d run by earlier.

“Let me help.” Marnie reached for the bag of goodies.

Feeling mischievous, he turned away. “You don’t want to take
my art supplies?” He dipped his shoulder, as if the weight of his backpack was
dragging him down. “If you want to help, they’re heavier.”

“Maybe, but are they edible?”

Laughing, he handed her the bag. “Appetizers and dessert are
on top, your stuff’s next, followed by mine. I wasn’t sure what you wanted to
drink so I brought Mountain Dew and beer, both in the bottom of the bag,
wrapped good enough to keep in the cold and make sure everything else stays hot.”

Marnie hugged the bag with the same affection Tor wanted her
to show him…as soon as she was ready.

“Did you thank your uncle Rafe for me?” she asked.

“With one of his cooks out, he was elbow-deep in flour. Not
a good time to talk. I figured you could gush over his food the next time, when
we actually go inside the restaurant.”

She glanced from the bag to him, her smile fading.

Tor’s mood took a nosedive, the same as hers apparently had.
Here it comes.
If Marnie wanted their relationship to remain strictly
business despite her obvious attraction, now was the time to tell him.

“I—“ She stopped.

He waited.
Come on, honey, give us both a break. I won’t
hurt you.
Fuck, he’d cut off his nuts first.

She turned away and put the bag on the table, pulling out
Styrofoam containers filled with their food.

Tor wasn’t certain whether to comment or not. Was she going
to ignore these last moments between—?

“I’d like that,” she said, breaking into his thoughts.
“Going to the restaurant with you the next time.”

He grinned as if she’d given him a zillion dollars. “Me too.
Hungry?”

“Oh yeah. You?”

In every possible way. “Let me help.”

The moment he reached the table, she left to go to the door,
throwing the three locks. “Do you want a glass for your beer?” she asked.

Tor studied the hardware she had on the door. As far as he
knew, this area didn’t have a lot of crime. Mostly fights when guys got stupid
at the bars, a few marijuana busts… “Sure.”

She grabbed two glasses, plates, silverware and napkins from
a cabinet and drawer, bringing them to the table. Once they had the feast
spread out, he pulled out a chair for her. “Dig in. Enjoy yourself.”

Marnie smiled so gratefully, Tor would have liked to give
her a huge hug but held off, not wanting to spook her.

For the first few minutes of their meal, the only sounds
were the clacking of forks against plates and her soft moans as she tasted one
thing after the other—chicken cooked with olives and potatoes, drenched with a
thick, Spanish sauce, the appetizer of seasoned pork and cornmeal wrapped in a
cornhusk and smothered in sautéed onions, and finally the sweet caramel
dripping off the flan.

“Oh my God,” she said with a full mouth. “I never want to
stop.”

“You don’t have to. There’s always more where this came
from.” He speared a bite of his round steak stuffed with Spanish sausage. “Try
this.” With one hand beneath her chin, he eased the food to her lips.

Marnie’s lids fluttered, her cheeks rosy with what appeared
to be delight. After tonguing the meat into her mouth, she licked red sauce
from her bottom lip.

She’d missed some. Tor wiped the sauce away. Before he could
lick his finger, Marnie wrapped her hand around his and held on as she
continued to eat.

Tor’s pulse went into overdrive at her gentle yet enticing
move.

“Try this,” she said, giving him a bite of her chicken.

He chewed quickly and swallowed fast, not tasting what he
suspected was the superb seasoning. Marnie’s hand on his, her scent, the desire
in her eyes made everything else fade away. They gazed at each other as they
ate, not speaking or making any sounds. Hell, Tor could barely breathe.

When Marnie squeezed his fingers, his balls started to ache.
His cock felt as though the skin might split, the fucker was so hard. Her
nipples were tight, the tips pushing against her top, though not from the
air-conditioning in here. Oh no. The room had been slightly warm when he’d come
inside; now the air felt stifling, his temperature rising fast.

Fuck, he was loving this. Hoping she felt the same, he
lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles.

Marnie pressed her leg against his. He pressed back.

Before Tor knew what was happening, she’d left her chair. He
pushed back in his and was about to get up—worried she was ready to flee—when
she came to him, straddling his body, running her fingers through his hair,
bringing her mouth down to his.

He tasted of the spices they’d enjoyed, the lingering
sweetness of caramel. His mouth was breathtakingly warm, cheeks hot and smooth
from his recent shave, his scent intoxicating. Marnie moaned in delight,
needing more. She angled her head and slipped her tongue into Tor’s mouth,
filling him, wanting this.

Being in his arms was all she’d thought of last night, today
and during their meal. He was life, joy, freedom to her, everything she’d
missed until now.

His hands on her were a gift. Marnie relished how Tor
pressed his palms against her back, easing her into him, her breasts snuggled
against his chest. He growled in obvious pleasure, suckling her tongue, giving
that small part of her a home.

Delighted, she deepened her kiss, grateful when Tor accepted
more of her passion. She hadn’t meant to make the first move with him. Being
bold wasn’t something she’d done with any other guy. Marnie had learned early
on that men were born to lead, women charged with watching moods and
expressions, listening carefully to verbal cues so they never rocked the
proverbial boat. To give until they hurt.

No more. No fucking way.

By God, her turn had come to go after what she wanted, to
enjoy and be happy like the women she admired did.

Marnie buried her fingers in Tor’s hair, the waves softer
than she’d imagined, wonderfully thick. He smelled of his citrusy fragrance and
the beer he’d had, male scents that made her head swim. She growled as Tor had,
liking when his tongue pushed hers aside so he could fill her mouth.

She allowed him to take over, welcoming his masculinity,
enjoying a strong man as long as he could also be gentle and kind.

Tor was, proving himself repeatedly, not rushing Marnie
tonight, giving her space.

His patience made her bold and allowed her to surrender.
When he cupped the back of her head to keep her to him, Marnie yielded to his
move, not wanting to be anywhere but close to him. Deep inside, she knew Tor
would never hurt her. She’d come to the conclusion last night as she’d compared
his behavior to Ethan’s and—

No.
She fought against the intrusion of the past, the
bad memories trying to ruin her bliss. This time, she wouldn’t make the same
mistakes. She’d allow herself to enjoy everything as men did so easily, never
again molding her future to meet the needs of others. Sacrifice she’d learned
as a little girl where males had rights, females nothing except
responsibilities. For a woman to think any other way was selfish and
unacceptable.

Mistaken beliefs that had ruined too many lives, though not
hers. Not any longer.

Marnie celebrated her and Tor’s kiss, wanting his tongue
deeper inside. She suckled him with a need she couldn’t suppress any longer.
Too many months had passed without her knowing a man’s intimate touch, the
thrill of having his hands on her.

She arched her back, delivering her body to him as Tor
covered her breast with his hand, his long fingers squeezing the soft globe,
thumb stroking her erect tip. Arousal pulsed through Marnie, her pleasure
centers awakened and starved from too much denial. She ran her hand over his
back to his biceps, slipping her fingers beneath Tor’s sleeve to stroke his
tat. His inked skin seemed slightly raised, hotter than Marnie had expected.
She traced what felt like a prominent vein.

Tor’s muscles bunched beneath her touch. He made a sound,
proving his passion, deep and unguarded, slightly feral. She found the noise
exciting rather than frightening and she softened even more.

Her acceptance of him clearly turned him on. He pressed his
mouth to hers for greater penetration, working his hand beneath the lower edge
of her top to touch her satin bra. Pretty underwear Marnie bought earlier
today, the same as the rest of her clothes. An extravagance she couldn’t afford
or resist, wanting to be young and attractive for once, not defeated and
scarred.

Her imperfections hadn’t seemed to bother Tor, a fact that
drew Marnie to him for everything he could give.

She inhaled sharply at his fingers gliding over her nipple.
He paused at the noise she’d made, as though he’d gone too far.

Hell no.
They’d barely begun.

Marnie pressed herself against his big body, telling him
without words she wanted to experience his basest needs and free her own.

He released her breast and cupped her ass, pulling her into
him. Instinctively, she wreathed her arms around his neck and held on. Tor’s
strength impressed her as he pushed out of the chair, holding onto her, his
movements coaxing Marnie to wrap her legs around his lean hips.

As he crossed the small space from the table to her bed,
they continued to kiss, the noises they made artless and enchanting. He brought
her down to the mattress more gracefully than Marnie would have guessed he
could, given his size. Her hair spilled over the comforter. He slid his hand
across her top, touching, exploring. At last, Tor eased the stretchy fabric and
her bra cup up, exposing her breast.

The tepid breeze from the air-conditioner glanced off her
nipple, feeling somewhat cool. Tor’s palm was feverish, his touch unhurried as
he fondled her, exciting Marnie beyond reason. Whimpering, she lifted her torso
as much as she could, giving herself to him.

He tore his mouth free and gulped air as if he couldn’t get
enough. For her, the room seemed to spin, desire out of control. She snatched a
breath, losing it on a soft moan as he latched on to her nipple.

Tor’s palm had been deliciously hot—his mouth was beyond
compare, the wet heat sending frissons of delight through Marnie. Her panties were
already damp from her arousal, body aching for relief only he could give her.

She wanted no other man.

His thickened cock pressed against Marnie’s thigh,
electrifying her. He dragged his tongue over her nipple, making the tip even
harder, licking, suckling, his fingers stroking until Marnie wanted to shout in
joy. But she could barely manage a sound, her breathing too fast, head swimming
with the sensations barreling through her.

She grabbed his biceps for support, needing an anchor.

Tor ran his hand down her torso to her belly. Her muscles
quivered at his touch, the slight tickle making her smile. He slid his fingers
lower to her skirt, bunching the fabric in his hand, easing the garment up to
uncover her. His hand was hot against her thigh, his palm resting on her worst
scar.

Marnie tensed without meaning to then tried to relax but
couldn’t manage to do so quickly enough.

Tor licked her nipple more slowly and finally stopped as
though sensing her tension. He lifted his head, his expression as dazed as she
felt.

She cupped his face, wanting to bring his mouth to hers, but
he held back this time and pushed to a sitting position. His shoulders rose and
fell with his harsh breaths. He dragged his hand through his hair.

Marnie wanted to touch him again but didn’t, uncertain as to
why he’d stopped. His passion had been as out of control as hers was…until
she’d stiffened. Reminding him of her scars?

She didn’t want to believe her imperfections mattered but
wouldn’t have been surprised if they had. Before she’d come to West Palm Beach,
Marnie had heard daily how ugly she was, how unworthy.

Tor wouldn’t say anything cruel; he was too kind, a
genuinely nice guy. But he wasn’t blind.

She pulled her bra and top back over her breast and rolled
away.

“Hey,” he said immediately, his hands on her shoulders,
directing her back to him. With more gentleness than she’d ever known from a
man, Tor eased her into his embrace, holding her close.

Marnie swallowed repeatedly, trying not to cry at his tender
embrace. What was the matter with her? She was supposed to be a badass woman
now. How could she have forgotten such a basic point, a milestone in her life
she’d fought so hard to reach?

“You okay?” he asked.

She shook her head, unable to help herself.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered.

What else? Even if the truth hurt, Marnie needed to know
what was going through his mind. “Why’d you stop?”

“Had to,” he said.

She eased away and searched his face. To her surprise, Tor
still looked aroused though stricken, as though he didn’t know what to do with
his desire.

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

He sighed. “Did you expect us to go farther than we had?”

“Didn’t you?”

“Not without condoms. Do you have any here? I sure as hell
didn’t bring any with me.”

A moment passed before she’d understood what he said. When
Marnie did, she couldn’t have felt more foolish. She’d thought he’d found her
wanting, when he was simply trying to be wise about their situation.

Not that she could do anything to make matters better.

She’d spent most of the day shopping for tonight but hadn’t
thought to buy protection. Of course, he hadn’t considered the problem either
until now. Why? “Don’t guys usually carry one or two with them in their
wallets?”

Tor smiled sheepishly. “I guess you could say as a rule we
do, however…” Sobering, he didn’t continue.

She had to. “Did you think I wouldn’t want to get naked with
you…because of my scars? I mean, it’s okay if you did; they are a huge turn-off
for me. I try not to look at them, ever.”

He kept frowning. “What are you talking about? Hell no, I
wasn’t thinking about your scars. They never entered my mind until you brought
them up. But since you have…”

He pushed her skirt higher and swooped down, planting a kiss
on the worst imperfection, the healed wound that seemed as wide as a crater to
Marnie.

She had to force herself not to pull away.

“They’re a part of you,” he said, straightening. “They don’t
bother me, never will. Coming here tonight, I wasn’t sure…I didn’t think…I
didn’t know if…”

“What?” she asked.

“If you’d want to sleep with me,” he said. “Usually, I am
prepared but I figured if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t come on too strong. I’d be able
to take this as slow as you wanted. I didn’t want to do anything to spook you.”

“Clearly, I’m not spooked.” She gestured to her mussed clothes.

He lifted his face to her ceiling and huffed out a sigh.
“Maybe you aren’t now, but before you kissed me, I sure as hell never expected
you to do so. Not that I’m complaining.” He looked at her. “What you did was
great but you took me by surprise because you practically ran away from me the
first day I saw you. You seemed to want Van Gogh to work on your tats rather
than me. You didn’t want me to do your portrait. I don’t know why. Damn, I
don’t anything about you. You won’t tell me anything.”

As warm as she’d been a moment ago, Marnie felt as cold now,
the old disquiet returning.

Tor rubbed his fingers over his mouth. “I shouldn’t have
said what I did. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You’re not. I’m doing that to myself.”

He dropped his hand. “If you want to talk, believe me, I’ll
listen. No way will I ever judge. I’m so far from perfect I’m surprised my
parents kept me when I was born.”

Marnie laughed in spite of herself. “They would have been
crazy not to. You’re beautiful.”

“What?”

“In a manly way,” she said. “Like the Greek gods.”

“What?” He smiled self-consciously. “Are you serious?”

“Never been more so in my life. You’re also talented beyond
anything I’ve ever seen. I was looking forward to tonight to ask about your
work. Where you get your ideas. How you can make such spectacular designs from
nothing.”

“Really?” He seemed surprised.

Marnie rested her hand on his. “Talk to me. I’ll listen.”

“Okay.”

“So how do you come up with the designs?”

Tor lifted his shoulders. “I’m not sure.”

“How can you not be?”

“I see images in my mind that seem to come from nowhere and
I simply sketch them.” He took her hand between both of his. “What about you?”

“I’m not artistic at all. Even my penmanship is awful.”

He laughed. “No, I mean your work. Do you like the
giftshop?”

“Alice is wonderful.” So much affection welled in Marnie for
the old lady, tears stung her eyes. “She’s a great friend. I love her to death.
You have to meet her.”

“Say the word and I will. Do you like sales? I’m assuming
that’s what you do there.”

“I prefer to look at my job as guiding customers to the
right purchase.”

He laughed.

The rumbling sound stirred Marnie as much as his touch. She
curled her fingers into his palm. “Although I love working with Alice, I really
want to be a social worker.”

“Yeah?” He grinned. “You going to school?”

“Online. I don’t have a car to get to classes. Bus fare gets
to be expensive too. This is the cheapest way.”

“Will you specialize in some part of that work? Wait.” He
made a face. “That was a dumb question, right? Do social workers even have
specialties?”

They did. However, Marnie wasn’t ready to tell Tor what hers
was at this point even though she knew their conversation would eventually turn
toward her past. A part of her wanted to run to avoid revealing anything. A
greater part longed to be close to him, building intimacy…over time. Right now,
keeping things more on the physical side—except for sharing a few bits of
personal information—seemed the safest course.

Given what Tor had said, he wanted more than to simply sleep
with her.

In the most protected parts of Marnie’s being, she did too
but didn’t yet trust what might happen.

“Yeah, there are specialties,” she said. “Substance abuse,
military and veteran care, community work. I haven’t decided what I most want
to do. Actually, I’m just starting out.”

“You love the work though. I can see how happy you are.”

Having him here had a good deal to do with her mood.
Smiling, she inclined her head toward the table. “How about we discuss my
college dreams and your art while we finish dinner?”