My Immortal (Seven Deadly Sins #1)(50)
Author: Erin McCarthy

She knew when he was going to come, felt his body tense, his testicles tighten, felt his last thrust, then his feral yank back so he could explode outside of her. It was a courtesy she didn’t appreciate and Marley didn’t let him go, followed him back, tightened her hold on his pants.

"No, damn it," he said.

But Damien was already pulsing into her, his hot liquid bursting into her mouth, over her tongue, as she held on, eyes closed, reveling in the feeling that she had done that, given that to him. And when he pulled back, she swallowed when she didn’t have to, just because. Because it wasn’t the expected thing to do, because he wouldn’t think that Marley Turner would, and because she wanted him to see that she had enjoyed it too.

Damien expelled his breath, relaxed his thighs. With slightly trembling hands, he cupped her cheeks. "You didn’t have to do that. Any of that."

"I wanted to." Marley shifted in the boat, her knees suddenly making it known that it was painful to be pressed into dry wood. She was stiff, her own tense muscles finally relaxing, but she couldn’t have cared less. It wouldn’t have mattered if she’d popped out her kneecap in the process, she wouldn’t have stopped. That had been hot.

Damien reached out, lifted her up by the armpits, and she smiled at him, stretching her legs a little, anticipating a healthy dose of appreciation, praise.

But he just wiped his forearm over his sweaty brow and shook his head. "Damn. I need a drink."

Marley waited for him to say more, but he didn’t, and she cautiously sat on the bench across from him, her confidence fizzling. He tucked everything away, zipped back up. Her own nudity became instantly awkward, and she bent over, her br**sts brushing her knees, and retrieved her T-shirt and pulled it on.

It was harder to be casual about putting on underwear in a rocking boat, but Damien didn’t seem to notice her jerky movements, and it was too dark for him to see the red stain of embarrassment she could feel on her cheeks.

Why did she always do this, let this dissolve into awkward insecurities? Why couldn’t she unglue her mouth and say something, tease him, kiss him?

She didn’t know why, only that she remained silent, groping around for her shorts, her sandals, staring out at the shadowed trees as she slid her shorts on, trying to lift her butt no more than was absolutely necessary to get the damn things on.

Damien turned on the motor and they cut back through the swamp, Marley shivering from the cool air, from the way he turned his bare back to her, his shoulders taut and tense in the moonlight.

When they docked, she said, "Don’t forget your shirt," just to say something.

"Thanks." He just picked it up, threw it over his shoulder, stepped onto shore, and turned to give her a hand out of the boat.

Marley took it, knowing her palms were clammy, and tried to move past him without touching his skin. His hand slid away from hers. This was awful. She had pushed it, and she had ruined it. Whatever it had been.

"You go on in," he said. "I’m going to have a smoke. I’ll see you in the morning." He gave her a brief, distracted smile, then left her at the edge of the garden.

She watched him walk away. Just stood there and watched his back as he left, retreated, without any of the words or touches or intimacy she wanted, craved. God, she’d been a fool. She could never have sex simply for the sake of sex. That wasn’t her, and she would never have freedom, that independence she craved so desperately, until she came to terms with who she really was.

Marley went into the maison principale and up to bed, with the scent of him still on her skin, her clothes, in her mouth, with her body still moist from want, and her heart sick with desire for what she could never have.

Chapter Fourteen

It was amazing to Marley that she’d actually slept at all, yet she must have, because she jerked out of a dark, suffocating nightmare when the door to her room opened.

God, if it was Rosa, she was going to scream.

Maybe if she pretended she was dead, Rosa would leave her alone and Marley could attempt to slink back off the property for the second time.

Or she could get her butt out of bed, thank Damien for the night before, and leave with her head held high like a big girl. Like a queen.

"Good morning."

It wasn’t Rosa. It was the man himself. Marley forced her eyes open, but didn’t bother to lift her head from the pillow. She must have slept with clenched muscles, because every inch of her body ached, and her butt felt like she’d taken on a marathon with no previous training. Watching Damien cross the room, a smile on his face, she wasn’t sure if she was grateful or not that his mood from the night before seemed to have passed. It was easier to stay angry than to forgive and expose herself all over again.

"Hi." Let him read anything into that. Marley dug into the corner of her eyes, wiping a stray lash out of the way. "What’s up?" Because she’d prefer to still be attempting to sleep, rather than lying there worrying and wondering why he’d turned his back on her after coming in her mouth. Though she supposed she knew why. He hadn’t been ready and she’d forced the issue, taken his desire and used it against his emotions.

It hadn’t been fair of her, and she was sorry for it.

He stood next to her, striped button-up shirt undone, black pants on. "I need to go into town for a meeting. They refused to do it online."

"Okay." A note to her explaining would have sufficed as far as she was concerned. Marley yawned and pulled the sheet up higher, covering the thigh that had been exposed.

"And before I went, I wanted to make something clear."

Not sure what to say, knowing an apology wasn’t right, determined not to sound needy or weird or clingy, she kept her mouth shut, flicking her hair out of her eyes. She needed a haircut.

"I don’t want you to leave. I know I was an ass**le last night and I’m sorry. There are things about me you don’t know, can’t understand, but I want you to stay. I want you with me."

"That’s it?" Marley watched him, the way he stood straight but not rigid, expression remorseful yet still confident. She mostly felt wary, displeased with her own reactions to him. If they were going to do this, she had to be honest, she had to remember the goal was her pleasure, not her attempting to heal him.

"I can’t give you any more than that."

"I didn’t ask for any more than that." Marley rolled onto her back, ran her eyes up and down the length of him. He was so damn good looking.

"No, I don’t suppose you did."

"No." Marley twirled a finger around a strand of hair, studying him, making him wait even when she already knew her answer. When he didn’t break eye contact, but met her stare straight on, bold, she wet her lips. "I’ll stay. Because I’m in control."