I bit my bottom lip. “You’re addicted to me?”
“Don’t be obtuse. The second I heard your name, I was on to you in a heartbeat.”
I raised a brow questionably. “Why when you heard my name?”
“Maybe it sounded pretty.”
I rolled my eyes. “Bullshit excuse, but nice try. So now talk.”
He didn’t respond for a moment, silently deliberating with himself about something. I tried to think of what my name had to do with anything, and I came up absolutely short. There was zero reason, at least, that I knew of.
Licking his bottom lip slowly, he finally whispered, “You once said to me… help is for the weak.”
I stilled.
What?
“I don’t get it,” I replied slowly, but deep inside, I kind of did. My brain was making connections – important connections – grasping moments in my life that had meant something to me.
He waited for me to acknowledge it, but I simply shook my head. No. No way. I needed more to be sure.
“Alley cat,” I whispered to myself just then as another memory flashed through my mind. I had wondered too often why he called me that, and now…
What the fuck have you been up to all night, alley cat?
“It was you?” I asked, still treading carefully because I could have been wrong, though my gut told me I wasn’t.
He smiled softly. “Yeah, it was me, and you certainly weren’t a dainty flower, were you?”
I didn’t respond. I almost didn’t believe it. He looked nothing like the guy I pictured in my head that night. It’d been so dark, and I’d been so shaken up and scared, I’d never really taken the time to have a good look at the man that saved me.
What were the chances? It was almost impossible to think that man was Marcus Borden, someone I’d always known from afar and had never realized I’d brushed against sometime in my life.
“Why are you crying?” he softly asked, running his thumb across my cheek.
I didn’t even know I was.
“I’m shocked,” I answered him quietly. “I can hardly believe it. I thought about you a lot after that time. When I came to my senses, I realized I owed you my thanks, but I knew I would never be able to pass it along because I didn’t know who you were. I didn’t even remember what you looked like. How did you remember me?”
His smile reached his eyes, and it was the first time I’d seen such a real smile on him. “Because how could I forget eyes like those?”
God, he couldn’t say things like that and not have me tripping over myself. My heart burst in my chest.
He took my arm and pulled me to him, silencing my thoughts with the touch of his lips. Soft and gentle, he deepened it, stroking my tongue with his. Exploring me, unravelling me, all from a simple kiss. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me up the bed, resting me on my back. He was half over me, languidly making out while his hand slowly ventured down the side of my body.
There was nothing rough about this at all. His light touches made my body more acutely aware of what he was doing, and my pulse quickened. I breathed harder against his mouth, my fists clenched at his shirt as his hand trailed along the waistband of my pyjamas.
“Borden,” I whimpered, just as he slipped beneath it, brushing lightly against my sex.
He pulled back and stared down at me, his eyes lust-filled and warm. He watched me carefully as his movements quickened, and I shut my eyes.
With another light kiss, he whispered against my lips, “Marcus. You can call me Marcus, okay?”
I nodded, kissing him back. Charged, we tore our clothes apart, and he settled between my legs, those kisses turning deeper and lasting minutes. Leaning on his forearms, he kept his weight off of me, gliding his erection up and down my sex. I shook, and my fingers trailed down his muscled back, stopping at his ass. I gripped him there, and pulled him down to me, kneading my fingers in his flesh, silently begging him to take me.
Gripping his length with one hand, he slowly guided himself into me, this tender euphoric look on his face. He pushed in, moving one inch at a time, and I stilled, savouring the feeling.
“You always feel so fucking good,” he murmured against my lips, brushing them softly as he looked down at me. “There’s no walking away from me after this, Emma. Yeah?”
I nodded. I knew what he wasn’t saying out loud. He was going to make love to me, and after that, my fate was sealed. I would belong to Marcus, and that didn’t bother me at all. Because he would also belong to me.
He thrust in and out, moving his hips in circular motions and the movements rubbed against my swollen clit, sending delicious sparks straight through me. He buried his face between my shoulder and neck, his hot breaths tickling my skin as he buried himself within me, moaning every time he filled me.
I gripped him hard, digging my nails into his ass just as I exploded, trembling beneath him. He raised his head and looked down at me, his face radiating with awe and pleasure. Still moving with tenderness, I watched him unravel, and I kissed him, swallowing his moans as he came inside me.
Afterwards, his head lay on my chest, and I stroked his hair. He held me like I was his anchor, this tight grip that sent tiny spikes straight into my heart.
He wanted to be cared for.
I don’t know how I realized it then, but I felt it. He wanted the love of a woman. After all, that was why he came back to this city in the first place. To love and be loved.
Sort of like me, and every person who grew up feeling like they were abandoned. I may have pretended to be impenetrable, like my independence would somehow erase the needs I’d buried deep inside my soul. But Marcus changed all that. He dug beneath my layers and made me realize it was okay to be vulnerable.
And while he was still a mystery in so many ways, and there were still so many questions lingering around us, I was willing to wait for the answers to each and every one of them. None of them even mattered to me in this moment.
Truth was, I… I think I loved him.
Twenty-Four
Borden
He waded into the waters.
It was still red and it still tasted like blood.
As usual, Kate was floating a distance away, her blonde hair swaying in all directions.
He swam to her, but his heart didn’t feel so bad this time. There was no knife-like pain, no sadness coiling itself around his heart. There was purpose in his movements. There was a liveliness he hadn’t felt in years. He was swimming quickly, as if reaching her would end this nightmare once and for all. He just knew this would be the last time he saw her.