Claimed. Tracy Wolff
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Her beautiful breasts trembled against the deep V of her neckline and Marc’s fingers itched—ached—with the need to touch her there. To hold the warm, firm weight of her in the palms of his hands while he kissed, licked, sucked her nipples until she orgasmed.
It had been one of his favorite things to do when she’d been his.
As he stood there, watching her, an image came to him. One of Gideon on his knees in front of her, pleasuring her the way Marc used to. Rage exploded within him, turned his voice harsh and tinted his vision with red. Or maybe that was green.
Within seconds he was next to her. “Who is this Gideon guy to you?” The question came out before he even knew he was going to ask it.
Isa’s eyes flew open and she whirled to face him, one shaky hand pressed to her chest.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“What are you doing out here?”
“I followed you.” He stepped forward, ran his fingers down the sweet softness of her cheek.
“Why?”
He ignored her question, focused instead on the sudden increase in her breathing. She was either nervous or aroused. Or maybe both. He wanted to revel in her reaction, probably would have, if he hadn’t been struck by the sudden realization that her response might be for Gideon instead of him.
“Who is that guy to you?” he asked again.
“Gideon?”
He didn’t like the way she said the guy’s name, all soft and familiar. It pushed at him, made him snarly. And more determined than ever to have her in his bed again. “Yeah.”
“He’s my escort. And—and my friend.”
Her voice broke as he slid his hand from her cheek to her jaw to the pulse that fluttered wildly at the base of her neck. “Is that all?”
She wet her lips with her tongue and he nearly groaned. It took every ounce of control he had not to lean forward and brush his own tongue against hers.
“Is what all?” She was breathless now, her chest rising and falling unevenly.
The knowledge that she wanted him, too, sent a shot of lust straight to his groin. He stepped closer, brushed her body with his even as he circled her neck with his thumb and fingers. It wasn’t a threat or an attempt to intimidate. No, it was simply a gesture of the possessiveness ripping through him like a freight train, one he couldn’t have stopped even if he’d wanted to.
And he didn’t want to. Not when need for Isa was a fire in his blood, a haze in his mind.
He leaned forward until his lips were only an inch or so from hers. “Gideon. Is he just a friend? Or is he more?”
“G-Gideon?”
He liked the confusion in her voice, liked that she couldn’t remember who he was talking about. “The guy who brought you here.” Marc leaned closer still, brushed his lips over the corner of her mouth. “Are you with him?”
Isa shuddered, trembled, against him. “No.”
The denial came out as a whisper, but it was good enough for him. More than good enough as her skin flushed and her nipples peaked against his chest.
“Good,” he said, right before his mouth closed over hers.
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