He pulled her into his arms and held her to him. Her skin was warm and soft. Warrick buried his face in her neck. Marilyn trembled in his arms. His hips rocked her. Warrick hooked a hand behind her knee and drew her thigh high against his side. Marilyn moaned and pressed tighter against him. She covered his chest with nips and kisses, licking his nipples and grazing his pecs. She lifted her head and claimed his lips. Her touch made him feel wanted, cherished. Warrick opened his mouth and let her in. His head spun as she pulled his tongue deep into her mouth. She suckled him, caressed him, stroked him. Each intimate caress stoked his desire.
Her hands moved up his back and Warrick trembled. Her fingertips kneaded his muscles and he sighed. And when her nails scratched his bare skin, he stiffened. Her delicate physician’s hands grasped his glutes and worked him against her. Warrick felt her dampen.
He turned with her in his arms, settling her hips on the kitchen table. Warrick reached behind Marilyn and unhooked her bra. He stripped the garment from her and tossed it aside. Warrick dipped his head and kissed Marilyn’s nipples, first the left, then the right. He drew her right breast into his mouth. Her taste was full and sweet. He palmed her left breast, its weight familiar in his hand. Her skin was delicate to his touch.
Warrick lifted his head and looked at her. Her hot chocolate gaze scorched him. Her features were tight with a shared hunger.
He kissed her quick and hard. “You are so beautiful.”
A slow smile curved her lips. “So are you.”
Warrick chuckled and kissed her again. He loved the way she tasted on his mouth, the way she felt in his arms. Marilyn wrapped her legs around his hips and shimmied closer to him. Warrick cupped his hands under her and lifted her from the table. With Marilyn’s arms and legs around him, Warrick sank to the floor. Marilyn released him, allowing Warrick to shift back between her long limbs. His gaze touched on her firm breasts and tight waist before returning to her face.
Her eyes glowed with desire. “I need you now.”
Warrick reached out and stroked her cheek. “I need you forever.”
He closed the distance between them. He kissed her neck, then nibbled his way down her chest to cover her right breast with his mouth.
Heat shot through her breast and settled between her legs. Her head pressed back and her lips parted in a gasp. Warrick’s mouth worked her breast. Marilyn ached with desire. She held her breath as his teeth grazed her nipple. His tongue licked and laved it, twirling its tip. His mouth suckled her harder. Her hips pumped against him, matching the rhythm of his mouth.
Warrick released her. Marilyn bit her lower lip, rolling her head back and forth. He’d lit a fire with his mouth that coursed a path between her breasts and her thighs. He paused at her navel, stroking his tongue in and around the dip. He kissed and licked her before moving on to her hips.
His mouth teased and tormented her as it drew closer and closer to her femininity by centimeters before moving away. Again and again she felt his breath nearing her core before Warrick shifted course. He kissed her hip bone. He nipped her thigh. His tongue grazed her belly—but always at a distance.
“Rick, please.” Marilyn’s fingernails scraped against the smoke and white marble tile flooring.
“What is it, honey?” His breathing stirred between Marilyn’s legs.
She gasped. Her heart tried to punch its way free of her chest. “Stop torturing me.” Her voice was tight.
Warrick’s laughter was low. “All right.” He drew her knees up over his shoulders and kissed her deep.
Marilyn screamed her surprise at the intense sensations igniting her body. She arched her back, lifting her hips higher. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her, liquefying her bones. Her muscles strained. Her nipples tightened. Blood rushed through her veins. The muscles inside her pulled to the breaking point.
Then Warrick stopped.
Marilyn gasped. Her eyes shot wide. Her muscles shrieked in frustration. Warrick surged over her. He captured her mouth with his own. His hands clasped her hips and he dove into her. Marilyn screamed as pleasure burst inside her. She trembled in Warrick’s embrace. His lips gentled on hers until she finally caught her breath.
Warrick’s hips moved with hers, longer and deeper. Slower. Harder. He pressed into her. He rocked inside her. Their sweat mingled. Pressure built again. His scent was soap and sandalwood, above her. Warrick released her mouth. His breath came in short, sharp pants like music to her ears. Intense and exciting. She’d missed him. She’d missed this—and so much more.
Tension stretched tight as Warrick continued to move in her. Blood pounded in her ears. Marilyn’s muscles strained. Warrick lifted his head and caught her left nipple with his lips. A jolt shot through Marilyn to her deepest muscles and shook again. Warrick’s back arched. His hips crushed into hers—hard. He buried his face into her neck. Marilyn wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he shivered above her. She kissed his throat. In this moment, nothing and no one else existed. It was just the two of them. If only they could stay like this always.
Warrick didn’t want to move. He didn’t think he could. His body was firmly planted to the ground, warm and relaxed. Beside him, Marilyn stirred, pulling a smile from him. “I’m too old for this.”
A wicked grin parted her full lips. “Oh, I don’t know. I think you’re in your prime.”
Warrick chuckled, happier than he’d been in weeks. “I mean too old to be making love on the kitchen floor. I need a bed.” He rolled to his feet and stood. He stretched his arms above his head. A movement in his peripheral vision drew his attention to the kitchen window. “What the hell?”
Marilyn sprang into a sitting position. “What’s wrong?”
Warrick pulled on his pants. “I saw someone at the window.”
“What?” Marilyn snatched her blouse and pressed it against her chest. “Someone was watching us?” She leaned over as though trying to make herself smaller while straining her neck forward to see through the window five feet away.
“Stay inside.” Warrick circled Marilyn on his way to the back door.
She wiggled around on the floor, trying to put on her clothes and still remain out of sight. “Wait. I’ll come with you.”
“No, you won’t.” Warrick pulled open the door and stepped outside, wearing only his hastily zipped khakis.
He crossed the cedar deck in two long strides, then jumped its four steps and landed lightly on the lush green lawn. He rounded the house toward the left side yard past their vegetable garden. Marilyn had planted lettuce, tomatoes, carrots, green beans, and other vegetables days after they’d moved into the house two years ago. He must have the best diet in the NBA.
The side yard was empty. Warrick glanced at the kitchen window. The blinds were turned up to allow light in while still protecting their privacy. But, if you stepped closer to the window, you could see the kitchen table. A chill rolled down his spine. Warrick continued to the front of the house. The gate was closed and no one was nearby. The movement outside their window must have been his imagination. He was chasing shadows.
Warrick turned back to his yard—and almost walked into Marilyn.
“Did you see anyone?” She leaned to the left, trying to see around him.
Her thick brown hair was tousled. The straight tresses swung around her shoulders with her every move. Her cream blouse hung loose over her baggy brown slacks and revealed much of her cleavage. Her narrow feet were bare. Her neat toenails, polished silver with multicolored sparkles, peeked from beneath the pant legs.
Marilyn’s buttoned-up physician’s identity had slipped, exposing his wife’s sensuality. He wanted her again.
Warrick swallowed to ease his dry throat. “I asked you to wait inside.”
Marilyn stilled, frowning into his eyes. “If there was an intruder, I could help you.”
She was fit and toned from regular and strenuous workouts. Still the mental image of her confronting an intruder would keep Warrick awake for weeks. “Help me by calling nine-one-one.”
With his hands on her shoulders, he turned Marilyn toward the backyard. Warrick wrapped his right hand around her slender waist and escorted her back to the house.
She looked around the side yard, glancing up at the window. “Maybe you were imagining things.” She sounded hopeful.
“Maybe.” He pulled her closer.
They continued into their home in contemplative silence. The scent of grass and blossoms carried on the late-spring breeze. It felt so good to have her back in his arms after a month without her.
The longest month of my life.
Now they could put the media and public scrutiny of their private lives behind them, and get back to being married. He stepped aside to let Marilyn precede him into their home.
“Rick, I’m going to check into a hotel.” Marilyn’s words came from behind him as he locked the door. They were like knives slipping into his back.
Warrick forced himself to face her. His voice was tight, controlled. “Why?”
She shrugged as she turned to walk farther into the house. “I can’t continue to impose on Em’s generosity.”
Emma Mane had been Marilyn’s best friend since college. She gave man haters everywhere a bad name. What was she telling Marilyn while his wife was deciding whether to stay with him or leave? The possibilities made his blood run cold. Still, the fact Marilyn hadn’t asked for a divorce after four weeks with Emma told Warrick their love could survive an apocalypse. Why couldn’t Marilyn see that?
Warrick unclenched his jaw. “How much longer are you going to keep us apart, Mary?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know.” Warrick dragged a hand over his scalp. If he hadn’t already shaved his head, he’d have ripped his hair out by the roots. Marilyn sounded like a broken record and the lyrics were worse than the bubblegum pop she enjoyed.
He exhaled a soul-deep sigh, trying to lessen the pain that threatened to bring him to his knees. “You don’t know how long it will take to decide whether you can live with me. You don’t know what to do about us. What do you know?”
“I know this situation would be a lot easier if I weren’t still in love with you.”
The words weren’t enough anymore. “If you love me, come home.”
She shook her head, tangling her hair even more. “I don’t know if I can live with you
and
the media.”
“Then what was this?” He nodded toward the kitchen table and gestured toward the floor. “What were we doing here?”
Color darkened Marilyn’s brown cheeks. “I do love you, Rick. But I don’t know if love is enough.”
Her words were a sucker punch. Warrick struggled to stay upright and breathing. What more did he have to do to prove he was worth loving?
“Not enough for what?” His voice was raspy with fear. Could she hear it?
“I’d never planned to live my life in the spotlight. I don’t want strangers judging me, my husband, or our marriage.”
“I can’t control the media, Mary, no matter how much I want to.”
“I understand. That’s why I have to decide whether I can live under this constant pressure. What will it do to our marriage? What will it do to us?”
Warrick fisted his hands in the front pockets of his khakis. Were these Marilyn’s words or Emma’s influence? “I think our marriage is worth fighting for. Do you?”
She wrapped her hands around her arms. “How do you fight the media? Troy tried and lost his job.”
Troy Marshall, the Brooklyn Monarchs’ vice president of media and marketing, had had a tough time with the increased press scrutiny as the team had entered the play-offs for the first time in fifteen years.
Warrick closed the gap between him and his wife. “But he kept fighting until he got his job back.”
Marilyn waved her arm in an agitated gesture. “Thanks to that newspaper reporter, Andrea Benson.”
Troy and Andrea had jumped through a lot of hoops to find their happily-ever-after. In contrast, Warrick and Marilyn’s love story had been a slam dunk—until recently. Had their easy courtship made him too confident about their marriage?
Warrick ran his hand over his head again. His fingers shook just a bit. “They make a good team. I think we do, too.”
Frustration swept across Marilyn’s features. “I don’t want to be judged by people, like when the Monarchs Insider wrote that I ‘wasn’t worthy to be seen on a professional athlete’s arm.’”
Warrick’s jaw clenched. He’d never get over his anger with the blogger who’d called herself the Monarchs Insider. She’d posted insults about his wife on the Internet, causing them both pain.
“Honey, I’m sorry about that blog, but it was written by a jealous woman with an ax to grind.”
Marilyn turned away. Her voice was sad. “And hundreds of readers agreed with her.”
“Don’t let other people come between us, Mary. What they think or say doesn’t matter. All that matters is what
we
think and what
we
feel.”
She gave him a cynical smile. “You know you can’t fight public opinion, Rick. How long will it be before you start believing what other people write about us? How long will it be before one of those young, scantily clad women who wait beside the tunnel to your locker room catches your attention?”
This wasn’t Marilyn talking. Emma’s cynicism sounded in those words. “I’ve been walking past those women since I was in college. You’re the one who caught my attention.”
She gave him a skeptical look. “Are you telling me you never slept with any of those groupies?”
He crossed his arms over his bare chest. “I’m not going to give you a report of the women I slept with before I met you—”
“Of course not—”
“And I won’t ask you to give me one, either. But I do expect you to believe me when I say I haven’t slept with anyone else since I first laid eyes on you.”
Marilyn’s gaze dropped. “I don’t want to argue, Rick. I just wanted you to know where I’ll be in case you need me.”
Warrick took a breath. “I need you now.”
She shook her head. “That’s not a good idea.”
Warrick lowered his arms. “Fine. The team’s traveling to Miami Wednesday night.”