Marco (The Men of Indecent Exposure #1) (33 page)

A memory flashed inside my head of another time we’d been here. Well, not exactly here, but in a similar situation, one that resulted in a bond neither of us had any idea we forged.

The room filled with the sound of heavy breathing and clothes being removed as our need for one another became clear. I pushed my boxers down mid-thigh as Brynn freed herself of her gown and turned her back toward me the second the material fell to the tiled floor. She leaned over the sink, planting both palms flat against the mirror. Her eyes caught mine in the reflection and all I saw was desire there.

Standing behind her, I surveyed her body, trailing my eyes down her spine. My hands gripped her, fitting perfectly at the bend of her waist, in that space where beautiful hips flared outward, leading down to parted legs.

I entered her rough, but only because that’s the way she wanted it. She pushed her hips backwards into me, forcing me balls-deep from the first stroke. She whimpered with pleasure and I pushed inside again, reveling in the wet friction as her tight pussy yielded to the curve of my dick.

In the mirror’s reflection, large tits bounced and swayed back and forth to my rhythm. Unable to help myself, I took one, feeling the heated flesh against the palm of my hand as I sank my dick deeper inside her, digging as deep as I possibly could.

The sound of the moisture between her legs reminded me of wet kisses and I got even more turned on listening to it, listening to the evidence of how much she wanted this. My balls smacked against her skin every time I thrusted and this became the soundtrack that filled the cramped space.

Long lashes fluttered closed and her glossed lips parted. One hand fell away from the mirror she used to brace herself and I watched as she pushed it between her legs, moving her fingers in quick circles as she played with her clit.

Why did she look so damn good touching herself?

The head of my dick tingled as a jolt of pleasure shot up my shaft. My senses all became heightened in an instant and I was more aware of
everything
—the dusky scent of her sex in the air, the sound of her soft, breathy moans, the tiny beads of sweat forming on her back. I could see them glistening even through the darkness.

Those once quiet moans grew louder and I squeezed her breast in my hand. She worked her fingers faster between her legs and I watched, plowing into her deeper, faster, harder as she came. Her juices soaked me and the sensation was my undoing. I felt the moment my seed shot inside her as her walls continued to constrict and release around me. It rendered me speechless and I could barely even move. The sweet, sexy cry that passed through her lips rivaled the volume of the grunt that left mine.

I heard our conversation from earlier ring in my thoughts and it was on the tip of my tongue to settle this once and for all. I was tired of holding in how I felt. I was tired of holding back for fear of her thinking I wasn’t good enough. I was tired of not owning the fact that I couldn’t think of anyone else in the world I wanted to be going through this with.

She turned to face me and my hands moved over her naked body, settling at her waist when she kissed me deep, making me feel her all the way down in my soul. Those words almost slipped out again, but this time I was able to hold them in. There was a possibility she might not readily say it back and that would only ruin the moment. I mean, I
suspected
she felt the same way I did, but then there was always this sense that she was holding back for some reason. That’s why I didn’t want to risk it. That’s why I chose to keep my feelings to myself.

So, for now, I let myself believe this was enough.

Brynn

Several kisses being placed on my shoulder roused my eyes open a few minutes ago. Waking up in the solid arms of a fully nude man, feeling the heat of a bare chest pressed to my back, firm thighs warming the backs of my own—it was almost enough to make me say to hell with whatever plans I had for the day. However, that wasn’t an option because I heard movement in the bedroom down the hall where Naseem had crashed the night before.

He had never been much of a drinker, so for Marco to find him so far gone last night, something had to be wrong. And seeing as how we hadn’t spoken in nearly two months now, I hadn’t the slightest clue what that something might be.

Marco didn’t try to hold me when I slipped out of his arms, but I was sure he would’ve if he hadn’t already known where I was headed. Our evening ended with us showering together and clothes felt unnecessary after that. Now, as I scrambled to find something to put on, I realized that probably hadn’t been the wisest thing. If Naseem had needed something last night, neither Marco nor I would’ve been ready.

The first thing I found to put on was a light-turquoise v-neck and maternity jeans, the kind with the stretchy, cotton lining in the front. Groaning a bit as I bent to slide my legs into them, I eventually looked presentable enough to go see about Naseem.

“I’ll be right back,” I said, turning to Marco before I stepped out into the hallway.

A call came through to his phone just as I was leaving and it sounded like business. The timing was perfect; he could handle that while I dealt with Naseem.

As I left, there was nothing in Marco’s expression indicating that he took issue with me checking in on Naseem. I liked that he had confidence in my judgment, my character. Considering that he knew of my involvement with Naseem before he came into the picture, he could’ve easily been jealous or suspicious that I harbored some type of feelings, but I never got that from him. I never felt like he didn’t trust me.

A string of words came back to mind—a string of words that contained three short ones in particular that had me wondering where Marco and I were really headed. In a roundabout way, he said he loved me, but the ‘
roundabout’
part was where things got confusing. And on top of that, he hadn’t brought it up again to clarify, so I assumed I read too much into it. Besides, love? There was no way he felt that way about me. We weren’t there yet.

At least that’s what I told myself every time I felt that little tug in my heart at even the
thought
of his name.

That’s what I told myself when he’d call just to check on me and I couldn’t stop smiling.

That’s what I told myself whenever we were together and his emotions, whatever coursed through
his
veins, bled right through my skin and seeped down into my bones. That’s how deeply he touched me. That’s how deep my feelings for him ran.

Still, I’d been on a mission to stop letting myself believe that what we had was more. Despite how easy things seemed to flow when we were together, the truth of the matter was: Marco and I were complicated.

For one, I hadn’t forgotten how he earned a good portion of his living and I’m woman enough to admit that I’m still bothered by it—no matter how good things are going. In a sense, the night I visited him at the club had opened my eyes in many ways. It brought his reality right to my face where I couldn’t ignore the nature of his job. His dance was sexy, it was alluring, it was… a
fantasy
. A fantasy that didn’t belong to me alone.

That performance was almost two months ago, which means that, since me, there had been at least one other woman in that seat on stage with him. She’d been given a show, had been given nearly full access to the man currently in command of my heart. I was sure that she, too, wanted him and was made to feel like
she
had him all to herself.

Because that’s what he does for a living. Making women want him was his superpower.

But the truth was…
no one
truly
had Marco Rios all to themselves. Including me. And call me selfish, but I wasn’t okay with that.

This was one hell of a pill to swallow.

Approaching the door, the sound in Naseem’s room had ceased but I knew he hadn’t gone anywhere. For one, he had no means of transportation at the moment—with his car and keys still being at the bar from last night.

When I knocked at the door, it was so soft and I thought he might not have heard, but then a somber, “Come in,” let me know I was wrong about that.

I entered with my head down because, despite being angry with Naseem when everything happened, I also felt like this had gone on for too long. And that was on both of us. We should’ve been better than this and I had to take responsibility for not reaching out to him either. We were both at fault, but maybe in different ways.

His hazel eyes appeared dim this morning as I looked into them. There was something behind that stare when he glanced up from where he sat on the edge of the bed. The darkness wasn’t anger or anything of the sort; I detected it was sadness.

“How’re you feeling?” I asked, noticing the glass of water I left him last night was now empty.

Pursing his lips into a thin line, he shrugged, the tips of his loose, black curls dusting his shoulders when he did. I came from around the door completely and moved closer.

Naseem’s gaze quickly drifted down to my midsection, most likely noting how much more prominent it was now compared to when he’d last seen me. A couple months had changed me a lot, but not just physically. For one, while I still took Naseem’s feelings into consideration, I was owning the fact that Marco and I were definitely closer than before—although, I admit to being unsure of what that meant entirely. However, if Naseem and I were
ever
going to mend this rift in our friendship, I wanted us to
both
be comfortable being open. So, if Marco and I did decide to be more, I hoped Naseem could respect that.

The likelihood of them being friends was a longshot, but maybe one day it wouldn’t be a stretch for the two to be in the same room without there being animosity. It wasn’t lost on me that, had it not been for Marco, there was no telling what would’ve happened to Naseem last night. An accident where he hurt himself or someone else, or it could’ve been much worse than that.

But this wasn’t Naseem. This behavior wasn’t like him at all.

“Mind if I sit?” I asked, taking slow steps toward the bed.

Those sad eyes that had looked into mine a moment ago, turned away, staring straight ahead now. Naseem gestured toward the spot beside him as an invitation.

I eased down and fastened my hands together in my lap, not really knowing where to start, but knowing something had to be said.

“I’ll uh… I’ll be out of your hair in a few. The cab I called should be here soon,” he said flatly, making it clear that he at least remembered
some
of what transpired the night before, enough to know his keys and his car weren’t here.

“There’s no rush,” I assured him, because there wasn’t one. “You’ve
always
been welcome here, Naseem. You know that and that won’t ever change.”

He nodded, but his expression told me he didn’t believe a word that just left my mouth. He was still cold, still closed off, and we’d never get anywhere like that. Not if he didn’t stop blocking me out.

The feel of my hand in his brought his eyes my way.

“What’s going on with you?” I asked, and I was sure he knew what I meant. Even in college, he didn’t really drink and when he did, it was maybe one beer just for the sake of being sociable. Naseem wasn’t the kind of guy to go to bars and get wasted by himself.

A deep breath left his lips and my hand squeezed a little when he decided to reciprocate the gesture. However, words didn’t come right away. They were drowned out by whatever he was dealing with, whatever he was carrying.

“I heard from my mother yesterday afternoon,” he began. “My father… he passed away night before last… in his sleep.”

I sucked in a breath and felt my stomach sink with Naseem’s statement. As someone who knows the pain of losing a parent, my heart went out to him.

“My flight leaves out tonight,” he added.

“Naseem… I’m so sorry. I had no idea his health had taken a turn.” The last I heard, his father had been doing much better. It came to mind that I
would’ve
been up to speed had the line of communication between us not been severed. It’s things like this that make it so necessary for people who care about one another to stay in contact. Had it not been for Naseem’s episode last night, I might not have known of his loss for months.

“I’m okay, I just… It hit me hard,” he said, doing his best to mask the emotion hidden just below the surface. I only knew this because I knew
him
.

Being in the States without his parents had always been hard. There was a considerable amount of guilt for having so many miles separating him from the pair as they aged, but they were adamant about Naseem staying right where he was and flourishing. And he’d done that. He was successful because his parents pushed him to persevere.

As his father’s only son, Naseem took great pride in the way his dad doted on his accomplishments, but that guilt never went away. It faded some, but never fully disappeared. So now, as he mourned the loss of the only man he looked up to, I imagined it weighed on him heavily.

I came in here intending to eventually speak about our disagreement, but that all seemed unnecessary now. As I continued to hold his hand, I was incredibly aware of how petty our falling out had been in the big scheme of things. Life was too short. We’d talk about all the details later. For now, all Naseem needed to know was that I was here for him.

“Anything you need, Naseem… Just say the word.”

He nodded and his free hand rose to his face. Following his movement, I watched him swipe his index finger beneath his eye to collect a tear. In all the years I’d known him, I’d never seen him cry and the sight of it broke my heart.

“I appreciate that,” he answered, his voice still even.

A sound in the hall caused both Naseem’s and my gazes to shift that way, acknowledging that we weren’t alone in the house. Marco’s heavy footsteps moved down the stairs. A moment of awkwardness passed between Naseem and I as we were both made aware of the reason we’d fallen out two months ago. Not that either of us had forgotten, but hearing Marco was just a reminder, pulling us out of this moment where that falling out had almost been forgotten.

Naseem’s head lowered and I knew he was now struggling with more than just his recent loss. Not that our issues even came close to measuring up, but I saw the moment his thoughts shifted back to us—the version of ourselves that hadn’t gotten along all that well lately.

The words, “I owe you an apology,” spoken in his deep tenor brought my eyes to him. While, yes, I came in here thinking we’d hash out our disagreement, that was before I knew about his dad.

“You don’t have to apologize. We can talk about this some other time. Right now you just—”

“No, I’d rather get this out of the way,” he cut in, still clutching my hand, but staring at the ground instead of me. “I’ll be gone for a few weeks and I don’t think either one of us wants this hanging over our heads any longer than it already has. Besides, if we talk about it now,” he added, “I might actually have a friend waiting for me when I return.”

That part made me smile. In his own way, he was admitting that he missed me like I missed him.

His eyes fluttered toward the ceiling as he pulled his words together.

“I still stand behind my claim: everything I said was definitely coming from a place of genuine concern for your wellbeing,” he started, but then there was more. “However, being honest, you were right, too. There was definitely some jealousy there that I hadn’t dealt with,” he confessed. “It took me a few days to admit that to myself and practically two months to admit it to you, but… I’m owning up to that.” There was a pause and I waited for the last of his words. “I’m owning up to that because I refuse to let my ego be the cause of me losing you completely.”

A smile made my cheeks tighten.