Free Make You Mine by Macy Beckett Page A

he ached deep inside where nobody had stirred him before.
    “If you still don’t feel anything,” he whispered, “we can probably try that kiss now.”
    “No lightning here.” Allie reached up and unfastened his hair, sending it spilling down like a curtain. “How about you, baby?” she asked with a seductive grin. “Anything scary happening in your pants?”
    Chuckling softly, Marc aligned their hips and rocked, long and slow, against the terry cloth between her thighs to demonstrate exactly what was happening inside his pants. He must have hit the right spot because her eyes rolled back, mouth widening as she arched her neck and strained against him. Marc seized the opportunity and lowered his face to hers in a gentle kiss.
    Or at least he tried to be gentle.
    Once their lips met and she sighed into his mouth, he lost all control. A growl emanated from the back of his throat as he took her mouth with the force of nine years’ pent-up longing. She fisted his hair and angled her face to take his seeking tongue, luring him deeper into her mouth in wet thrusts that mimicked the unconscious motion of his hips.
    If he thought Allie’s throat tasted good, it was nothing compared to her candied lips. He fed from her mouth, dizzy with the sensations of her warm scent and the noises rising from her chest. When she broke from the kiss and moaned his name, Marc quit caring whether or not the curse was real. If he woke up tomorrow with his head on backward it would be worth it.
    “Marc,” she repeated, bucking against his erection, her eyes closed in rapture.
    His body heated, and he rushed to shrug out of his captain’s jacket without leaving the decadence of Allie’s embrace. With that accomplished, he gazed past his waist to the long, tanned leg wrapped around his hips . . . the very
bare
leg.
    “You naked under there?” Marc asked in a husky voice, not sure if he wanted to hear
yes
or
no
. It would be so easy to untie that white robe, unzip his fly, and slip right inside her.
    But part of him knew it was a bad idea.
    She answered by taking his hand and leading it up the length of her thigh, stopping where their clothed bodies met. He shifted aside so he could continue all the way to the top, and when he arrived at his destination he found her exposed, waxed baby-smooth, and already slick with desire.
    God bless. He was going to burst in his drawers.
    Bending to kiss her again, he ran one fingertip along the length of her slippery seam and stroked her with a whisper touch, teasing and tickling until she spread herself wide and dug her heels into the mattress in a silent plea for more pressure.
    “How ’bout now, sugar?” he whispered against her mouth. “Feel anything?”
    She only groaned and slurred a strand of incoherent Creole.
    He didn’t need a translation to know what she wanted, and he gave it to her—massaging circles over her slippery flesh and swallowing her cries of pleasure. She was petal-soft and hot beneath his touch. Marc wanted to watch his fingers as he worked more tension into her coiling muscles, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave the sweetness of her mouth. So he let his fingertips send images to his mind, imagining the sheen of arousal glistening at the juncture of her thighs, the pink pout of her sex as he slid a finger deep and felt the first wave of orgasm clench around him.
    Then in the worst imaginable timing, someone began pounding on the bedroom door.
    “Don’t get that,” Allie gasped, thrashing her head from side to side.
    “I have no intention of stopping,” Marc promised. Nothing short of a fire would get him out of Allie’s room—or her body.
    He added a second finger and pumped deeper, then twisted his hand palm-up to massage her sweet spot. The next surge crested in a climax twice as hard as the first. Marc covered her mouth with his, smothering her moans of release. Her pleasure rang inside his head like music, pride washing over him until he nearly burst with