Make You Mine (10 page)

“I didn’t mean to break up your party,” Allie said, pulling her cell phone from her back pocket. “I just wanted to show you this.” She tapped her
message
button and turned the screen to face Marc.

Squinting, he leaned in and read,
If that overgrown weasel asks about me, remind him that the quickest way to a man’s heart is through his chest with a sharp knife
. Marc wrinkled his forehead. “I don’t get it. Is that supposed to be a threat?”

“What?” Allie glanced at her phone and discovered a new text from Devyn. “Oops, wrong one. My sister’s not exactly turning cartwheels at the idea of running into Beau.” She pulled up the message from the Natchez fire department and handed Marc the phone. “Read this one.”

Marc scanned the text and nodded thoughtfully. “Huh. Faulty battery.” Then he added a casual, “Good to know,” and went back to sipping his Coke.

Good to know? How did he not see what a big deal this was? Allie shook the phone in his face. “This proves I didn’t cause the fire.”

Marc sucked a drop of cola from his bottom lip. “Nobody said you did.”

“Oh, come on. You were all thinking it.”

He shook his head. “Not me.”

“Liar,” she said, lifting the shot glass to her lips. “I saw it all over your face that day in Regale’s suite.”

“Naw, honey, that was pain,” Marc said with a grimace. “I had a raging case of blue balls.”

Allie sputtered tequila into her fist and choked on a laugh, doing her best not to snort liquor up her nose.

“But Regale believed it,” Marc went on. His impish twinkle faded as he dropped his gaze into the glass of cola. “And you stepped up and left the galley to keep him on board.” He peeked up at her with respect in his eyes. “That was mighty big of you.”

Allie threw back what remained of her shot, wincing at the burn. She cleared her throat. “I know how important the
Belle
is to you.” The dark circles beneath his eyes proved he’d run himself ragged this week. “You look exhausted. Why don’t you turn in?”

He flapped a hand and poured her another shot, waiting until she downed that one, too. “I’m all keyed up. I need to unwind first.”

At least they agreed on one thing. Marc needed to blow off some steam, and Allie was happy to help—they were even in the perfect place for it. “Then let’s play a game.”

Marc glanced over her shoulder to the rows of dormant slot machines and empty roulette tables in the darkness. He pressed his lips together as if weighing her suggestion and finding it intriguing. “What’d you have in mind?”

“Well,” she began. “You’re probably tired of poker.”

He nodded in agreement. “Especially the Texas variety.”

Which left blackjack, but then they’d have to take turns representing the house, which didn’t sound like much fun.

“I don’t know a lot of card games,” Allie admitted. “We could play Go Fish.” She’d meant it as a joke, but Marc’s lips tugged in a wide smile that drew out the cleft in his chin. He seemed to take it seriously for a moment, then laughed in a low, masculine chortle that turned her thoughts from gaming to sinning.

“Haven’t played that in a while,” he said, nudging another tequila shooter in her direction. “What should we wager?”

“Do we have to bet?”

“Of course,” he said. “That’s half the fun.”

In general, Allie didn’t carry much cash, and what little she had was in her suite. “I don’t have any money on me.”

“That’s okay. I don’t want your money.”

She glanced around the bar for ideas, then pointed at a bowl of salty snacks. “We could play for pretzels.”

“Pretzels?” He scoffed in offense. “What are we, twelve?”

Allie scowled at him. “Well, what do you want?”

His gaze took a slow trip down the length of her body, from shoulders to toes and back up again. Her skin heated as she began to understand the stakes he had in mind. “I wouldn’t object to seeing what you’ve got on under those clothes.”

Reflexively, Allie darted a glance at the strong contours of Marc’s chest, barely visible as shadows beneath his white dress shirt. Truthfully, she wouldn’t mind seeing what he was hiding either. “Are you suggesting we play Strip Go Fish?”

He answered by toasting her with his Coke and eyeing her shot in a silent message to drink up.

“Right here in the casino?” she added.

“The door’s locked, and the cleaning crew isn’t scheduled to come around till third shift.” He nodded to a dark corner on the opposite side of the room. “We can sit back there if you want. That way nobody will spot your bare-naked backside through the glass doors.”

Allie pointed at him. “I think you mean
your
bare-naked backside.” Which she was going to enjoy ogling—immensely.

“Sugar, you’re going to be very cold, very soon,” he teased. “So you’d better take another shot.”

“I
will
have another, but only to prove I can still trounce you half-drunk.”

She tossed it back, then slid off her barstool, feeling warm and floaty as she led the way to a round table in the corner. Marc found one of those battery-operated candles that mimicked a flame’s flickering glow and set it on the table, so he could “see what he was winning.” They continued their Go Fish trash talking until they’d found a pack of cards and settled in their chairs.

“Wait,” Allie said while Marc shuffled the deck. “First we should make sure we’re starting out with the same number of clothes.” She counted her polo shirt, bra, skirt, panties, and clogs. “I’ve got five.”

“Are we counting socks and shoes as one item?”

She shook her head. “Separate.”

“Then I’ve got six.”

He quickly remedied the injustice by unbuttoning his dress shirt and pulling his arms free. Beneath it, he wore a white T-shirt that fit him like a second skin, stretched unmercifully tight across his broad shoulders. Even in the dim light, his bunching chest drew Allie’s eye and watered her mouth.

She swallowed hard. “That’s better.” So much better.

Marc caught her staring and faked a stretch to show off the inside curves of his biceps, then turned it up a notch, flexing them so they strained the hem of his T-shirt sleeves. A hint of dark ink peeked at her from beneath the fabric.

Oh, heavens. Allie loved a good tattoo, especially on a properly muscled body. She wanted to see all of it . . . and hunt for more.

“You’re not distracted, are you?” he asked with a smirk.

“Not one bit,” she lied. “Prepare to lose your other shirt, Captain.”

“Got any fives?”

“Go fish,” Allie said, twirling her hand in a
take it off
motion. She hoped Marc would remove his T-shirt this time. When she’d rejected his request for threes, he’d simply shrugged and kicked off his shoes, mirroring her first move. Shoes and socks were always the first things to go in stripping games.

“Whatever.” He set down his cards and reached below the table to peel off his socks. “Now we’re both barefoot.”

Allie’s mouth pulled into a frown, but she reminded herself that he didn’t have any more barriers left. By default, it would be the shirt or the pants next. “Got any twos?”

His teeth flashed white in the darkness, a wicked grin providing his answer. “You get a line; I’ll get a pole. We’ll go fishin’ at the crawdad hole.” He waggled his brows at her shirt. “Lose that top, sugar.”

She reached for the deck to draw a card and accidentally knocked the pile askew. Maybe she’d overdone it with that last tequila shot, especially on an empty stomach. After drawing a ten, she placed her cards on the table and pushed to standing. “I’ll keep the shirt for now.”

“The skirt, then?” he asked, his voice thick with teasing. “You think you’re safe because we’re sitting down, but I can always peek under the table.”

With great deliberation, Allie unbuttoned her denim skirt and lowered the zipper. She didn’t intend to play it seductive; the tequila had simply clumsied her fingers. But when she glanced up to find Marc transfixed by her labored movements, his neglected Coke poised at his lips, she took extra care to roll down the waistband and smooth the fabric over her hips inch by meticulous inch. By the time the skirt dropped to the floor and revealed her black satin panties, Marc looked ready to choke on an ice cube.

Even though she’d lost an article of clothing, she felt victorious. She ran her hands over the tops of her thighs and let him get an eyeful before lowering herself to her seat and telling him, “Go ahead and peek, baby. I’m not shy.”

Marc kept his gaze above the table’s oak rim, but he seemed to have trouble swallowing his cola. “Nah. I’ll wait for the full monty.” He fanned out his cards and studied them for far too long before asking, “Nines?”

Allie sat straighter and smiled. “Nope! Say good-bye to that T-shirt.”

He muttered a curse under his breath. “Lucky for you, I’m not bashful either.”

Marc reached behind his head to grab hold of his collar and pulled off the thin garment with one brisk motion. He shook back his hair and followed with some more trash talk, but his words faded into obscurity as Allie stared at his naked chest.

God bless, he was a sight to behold.

She’d seen him shirtless a time or two, back in high school when he’d run track and played on the soccer team. He’d turned her head then, all lean and solid and tanned. But gorgeous as he’d been, there was no comparison between that boy and the man sitting before her now.

Marc’s shoulders had broadened with time and hard work, rounded with muscles that made her want to hold on tight for a wild ride. She could almost feel the heat of his smooth, hard chest against her own, the ripple of his abs pressed to her flesh.

It was suddenly too hot inside the casino. Allie fanned herself with her cards.

“Like what you see?” he asked with a grin, clearly pleased with himself. When he leaned back in his chair, the tattoo on the inside curve of his tight biceps winked at her—a fleur-de-lis symbol. Allie’s gaze traveled across his torso to another tattoo directly over his heart. This one was burgundy and poorly formed, like a splash of wine staining his skin.

She pointed at it, ignoring his teasing. “What’s that?”

He glanced down at himself and chaffed a thumb over the spot. “This right here?”

Allie nodded.

“A birthmark,” he said. “Must be hereditary, because my daddy and brothers all have it. Pawpaw, too.”

Allie tipped her head and studied the mark, finding it odd that the Dumont men would share the same skin irregularity. Allie didn’t remember much from her high school genetics lessons, but she didn’t think birthmarks ran in families. “All in the same place?”

“Yep.” He shrugged. “Same shape, same color, same location.”

She didn’t recall seeing it when they were kids. “Has it always been there?”

“Since the day I was born.” Marc leaned forward as if to get down to business. “Now quit stalling and move it along. I want that top on the floor.”

“Fine,” she said. “Got any queens?”

Grumbling, he handed over the queen of hearts, but when Allie asked for an ace, he released a low chuckle and pointed at her polo shirt. “Go fish.”

“Don’t get too excited,” she told him while unfastening the buttons below her collar. “I have bikinis that show off more goods than this bra.”

She pulled the polo carefully over her head so as not to snag a curl and placed it in the chair beside her. True to her word, two stretchy panels of black satin covered her breasts, displaying nothing but a deep line of cleavage.

Apparently, that was enough to render Marc speechless. He held up three fingers in a wordless request for cards while shamelessly eyeballing her boobs.

A few moments later, it was Allie’s turn to gape at the sight of Marc in a pair of tight gray boxer briefs that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. They hugged the tops of his strong thighs and drew her gaze upward to the trail of dark hair encircling his navel and dipping below a waistband of cotton so thin it should be a crime. Allie caught herself biting her lip in disappointment when he sat down, something that didn’t escape Marc’s notice.

He teased her until the time came for Allie to remove her bra. Then his words died as he watched her slide each strap down the length of her shoulders with deliberate care. She held his gaze while unfastening the back, then flashed an impish grin and shook her hair in front to conceal both breasts when she pulled off her bra and let it fall onto the next chair.

Marc glared at her. “That’s evil, right there. Pure evil.”

“Quit whining and give me your queens,” she said on her next turn, right before remembering she’d already asked for that card.

Marc’s glare transformed into a triumphant glow that enlivened his entire face. He sat back in his seat and tossed his cards onto the table, mouthing the words
Go fish
.

Allie closed her eyes, mentally kicking herself for being so careless. This was it—the game was over. He’d won.

If only she hadn’t been so distracted by Marc in his underwear . . .

“Want some help?” Marc asked, his voice thick with anticipation. “I’m an expert panty remover with years of dedicated experience. I can have them around your ankles, lickety-split.”

Allie took a deep breath and stood from her seat. After taking a moment to fortify herself, she let her lids drift open. But when she glimpsed Marc again, something in him had shifted.

He wasn’t bragging now, instead watching her with a wolfish hunger that tightened her stomach and sent it dipping south. Clearly this was no childish game to him—not anymore. He wanted her, and her body responded to him at once, flushing with warmth despite the fact that she was practically naked in an air-conditioned room.

“Why don’t you come on over here,” he murmured, dark and husky, “and let me do the rest?”

Allie didn’t have to tell her feet to take a step forward. They moved toward Marc of their own volition and didn’t stop until she reached his chair. For a pregnant beat, he used his eyes to take her in, scanning her legs while holding his breath in a charged anticipation she felt as tangibly as static electricity.

He let out a lungful of air and brought both palms to the outside swell of her hips, then simply held her like a man savoring a moment he’d waited a lifetime to experience. Allie knew that wasn’t the case—Marc could have any woman he wanted—but it made her feel special all the same.

He used his work-roughened hands to skim the length of her thighs, all the way down to her knees and back up again until he reached her backside. There, he tucked his fingers beneath the satin fabric of her panties and took two handfuls of flesh, groaning appreciatively at the weight of her in his palms.

“Goddamn, Allie,” he swore and moved in to kiss her navel. “You’re a walking wet dream.”

While he nuzzled and tickled her with the fine whiskers peppering his jaw, she tangled her fingers in his chestnut waves and held him nearer to her core, pulling him in as close as they could get. They stayed like that for a while, touching and stroking, savoring the quiet intimacy until Marc hooked his thumbs around her panties and tugged them down over her hips and to the floor. She stepped free and kicked them aside, standing before him completely nude for the first time.

Marc’s gaze didn’t linger. In the span of two heartbeats, he placed a gentle kiss between her thighs. Allie felt a ghost of warm breath, and the next thing she knew, Marc had run his tongue fully up the length of her femininity.

She wasn’t prepared for the shock of pleasure that tore through her. Breath catching at the top of her lungs, she clutched the back of his chair for support. He only gave her a moment to recover before he did it again—flattening his tongue in a lazy assault that left her knees weak. Next he used the tip to flick and tease, sending her pulse rushing between her legs.

“Marc,” she began, not sure whether to ask him to stop or keep going. It felt exquisite, but she wanted more from him. She wanted all of him.

When she remained silent for too long, he made the decision for her by positioning her left heel atop his knee and deepening his erotic kiss. Between nips and licks, he groaned decadently and made torrid promises of what he’d do next. Allie could hardly stand the intensity. Her limbs grew weak and heavy, her eyelids sinking as the pressure built inside her.

He latched onto her most sensitive spot and drew it into his mouth with gentle suction, eliciting a loud moan from her in response. Allie tipped her head forward and tried to keep standing upright, but with each wet tug, she sank farther into his lap. Finally, Marc conceded the battle and let her drop down to straddle his thighs.

He pulled her against his bare chest and slid his mouth against hers in a kiss that tasted of sweet cola and her own salty arousal. She twined both arms around his neck and explored his mouth while her hips sought friction against the massive erection straining the front of his Jockeys. Their mingled breaths grew choppy until Marc slowed things down, pulling back to gaze at her, his lips wet and swollen, eyes dark with lust.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered while brushing her long curls behind both shoulders to expose her breasts. Tenderly, he took one in each hand and admired them, skimmed his thumbs across her nipples while repeating, “So beautiful.”

Allie bit her lip to contain a moan. She had a feeling where they were headed, but she needed to ask anyway. “Are we really going to do this?”

Marc took her by the hips and rocked against her. “Jesus, I hope so. I might die if we don’t.”

Smiling, Allie skimmed her palms over his strong shoulders, down the firm curves of his biceps, and across his smooth, hard chest, wishing she had another pair of hands to feel all of him. She’d fantasized about this moment for so long, but making love with Marc wasn’t enough for her now. She refused to be just another notch on his bedpost.

She deserved more.

“I want to be the only one, Marc,” she said, using her index finger to trace the birthmark over his heart. “Or we need to stop right now, before we go any farther.”

He froze. Judging by the terror etched into his face, you’d think she’d demanded a two-carat solitaire and a minivan.

“Calm down, baby.” Allie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “I mean the only one sharing your bed. If you’re sleeping with me, you’re not sleeping with anyone else.” When his shoulders unclenched in relief, she added, “I don’t like to share. Do you?” She tossed back her hair and arched against him. “Do you want me doing this with another man?”

“No.” Possessively, he tightened his grip on her hips. “No sharing.”

She stifled a grin. “So we’re clear?”

He moved in to kiss the side of her throat, stopping just below her ear, where he whispered, “Crystal clear. You’re the only one I want, Allie.” Then he took two handfuls of her backside and pulled her against his steely length as if to show exactly how much he wanted her. Which seemed like a whole lot.

“Good,” she managed. “Then it’s sett—”

She gasped when he latched onto her nipple and tugged it deep into his mouth. As soon as she gulped a breath, he turned to the other nipple and caught it gingerly between his teeth, barely grazing her until he’d teased it to a tight point.

Allie couldn’t wait any longer. She reached into his Jockeys and freed him, taking a moment to stroke his long, thick shaft from top to bottom, then used her thumb to spread a bead of arousal over his velvety tip. Eagerly, she poised herself above his erection. She was on the Pill, they were both clean, and she wanted him inside her five minutes ago. She sank an inch onto him, her eyelids fluttering shut with fulfillment, but just as she opened her thighs to take him deeper, he halted her movements.

“Stop,” he said, contradicting his words with an expression that pleaded for more. “Let me grab my wallet so I can suit up.”

“We don’t need a condom,” she told him. “I’m on the—”

“I use one every time, sugar. It’s not worth the risk.”

He reached down to snag his pants, and in less than sixty seconds he had the condom rolled on and firmly in place. Allie reminded herself this was the responsible thing to do, but she couldn’t help it—she wanted to feel the warm friction of his naked skin inside her.

But she didn’t pout for long.

Marc took her by the hips and seated her atop his rounded head, then dipped into her from below, working inside by gradual degrees and stealing every coherent thought from her mind. By the time he was buried to the hilt, she could barely recall her own name.

He held her still for a while and fed her gentle kisses while she stretched to accommodate his considerable girth. Patience waning, Allie grasped Marc’s shoulders and began a slow rock against his base. When she felt ready, she dug her toes into the carpet and lifted halfway up the length of his shaft before sinking down again.