Coming Back To You (26 page)

And she wanted it to. She wanted the warmth
he provided. The security. The closeness.

With her arms still around him, he slowly
turned and took her face in his hands. His dark, turbulent eyes
ranged her face then fixed on hers.

“Karma…?” He looked disoriented, his eyebrows
furrowed, his mouth slightly open as if he were on the verge of
speaking or trying to catch his breath.

Without saying a word, she lifted onto her
toes, pulling herself up…until her lips met his. His breath caught
and held, and his eyes drifted closed. So perfect. His lips still
felt perfect against hers, even in such a simple, chaste kiss. His
eyelids dragged open halfway, and she kissed him again, letting her
lips linger as she let the tip of her tongue roll lazily against
his bottom lip.

They were suspended in a bubble, hardly
breathing, barely moving, locked eye-to-eye. The magic that had
been them for four months stretched around them, blossoming like a
rose, shimmering brighter as the seconds ticked by, coming back to
life like a resuscitated butterfly, its wings fluttering, then
beating stronger as it reanimated.

As she kissed him a third time and lightly
nipped his lip, she felt his resolve snap.

The air rushed out of him as his arms wrapped
around her waist and pulled her against his body. He nearly stole
her soul as he claimed her mouth, his tongue diving to meet hers on
a hungry exhale.

Her entire body flamed to life, having been
starved for too long of physical affection. Stumbling backward, her
back crashed into the wall, and his hands drove under her blouse.
In the time it took to exhale, she was topless. Her fingers fumbled
with the buttons on his shirt as he flung his tie to the floor then
unfastened her slacks. In seconds, she was in her white lace bra
and underwear, her fingers combing through the familiar trace of
hair on his chest. He lifted her off the floor, and she wrapped her
legs around his waist.

“You got a tattoo.” She ran her fingertips
around the dark circle and Asian hieroglyphs on his chest, just
left of his sternum.

“Yes.” Something about the look on his face
revealed there was a special meaning to his ink. Had he lost a
loved one in the year they’d been apart?

“What’s it mean?”

“Not now.” His breath came in urgent bursts.
“Not like this.”

He had lost someone close, hadn’t he? The
last thing she wanted to do was remind him of that loss now.
Whatever his tattoo meant, it could wait. She would let him tell
her later, in his own time.

“Make love to me,” she whispered against his
mouth.

He was already carrying her to the bedroom,
where he lowered her onto the bed, coming down on top of her.

Yes. This was what she wanted. Him. Mark. She
wanted Mark. They clicked. Everything about the two of them
together felt right in a hundred different ways. For the first time
in over a year, her body sang, and it was because of him. Her body
had chosen.

Every nerve ending celebrated. Every cell
rejoiced. She was home. With Mark, she was where she belonged.

Tears of realization sprang to her eyes as he
pushed down his pants and kicked them off the foot of the bed. She
had thought she’d moved on, that she was over him, when all along
she’d only been in denial. She was nowhere near over him and never
would be. She’d fought her feelings when he’d returned two months
ago, but she’d only been fighting the inevitable. She couldn’t
fight fate, anymore. All she wanted was to feel him against her
again. Inside her.

Before she knew it, he’d stripped her out of
her bra and panties. There was nothing left between them but
air.

“Condom?” he said between kisses. But he said
it as if he were asking permission, as if he was giving her one
final chance to stop him.

“Top drawer.” She pointed to the nightstand.
Permission granted.

He fumbled to open it then reached in,
fishing a condom from the box.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered against her
mouth. The sound of tearing cellophane made her heart skip
impatiently. One step closer to finding her way back.

“I’ve missed you, too.”

She’d barely spoken the words when he sank
inside her. They both let out a ragged exhale, and she dug her
fingers into the back of his shoulders.

So full. He filled her completely. Her inner
muscles clenched, already eager to send her into the clouds.

“I won’t be able to go slow.” His jaw was
taut, the skin around his eyes strained.

“I don’t want it slow.” She rolled her hips
against him. What she wanted was hard and fast. She wanted to feel
again. For months, she had felt nothing. Sexually, she’d been an
apathetic vacuum, defunct and void of arousal. But right now, she
was once again liberated. The shackles of resentment and sexual
frustration fell away, and pleasure bloomed inside her.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me.” And even if he did, at
least pain was feeling. But she was too aroused for that. “Now,
fuck me.”

Once more, his restraint snapped, and he was
fucking her in a way she had never been fucked. Not even when he’d
taken her against the wall in the conference room—as savage as that
had been—measured up to the vicious way his body took hers now.

It was as if he hadn’t had sex in forever. As
if he’d been starving for affection as much as she had. Just how
long had it been since he’d slept with a woman? Surely, there had
been others since he’d left. The woman from New Year’s Eve, for
instance.

But now wasn’t the time to think of that.

Within minutes, they were both speeding
toward climax, crying out with every stroke. Karma didn’t care if
her neighbors heard. Let them hear. Let them bear witness to the
magical, wonderful moment when she and Mark had found their way
back to one another.

“Oh God! Oh God!” She thrashed her head on
the pillow, arching against him.

“Fuck!” His teeth grazed her shoulder as he
gasped for air, pounding and thrusting into her body over and
over.

She couldn’t breathe. Her voice failed her.
She was about to come. And not just come, but light up so severely
she’d be able to energize a small town.

“I can feel you getting tighter.” He grunted
against her neck then raised himself to search her face. “You’re
going to come.”

She nodded and met his gaze. “Yes.” The word
flew out of her mouth on a breath.

“Me, too.”

And just the way they’d done so many times,
they crested together, their bodies splintering into euphoria.

The muscles of his back and arms contracted
and released repeatedly as he came harder than she could ever
remember him coming. Wave after wave of spasms ranged up and down
her body as she pulsed around his throbbing cock.

She held onto him as if letting go would kill
them both, reveling in the way he tucked his face against her neck
the way he used to. She loved that about him. Loved how he seemed
to surrender to her as much as she did to him during their
lovemaking.

Tears fell down her face as she closed her
eyes. This was right. There was a chance she would regret her
decision, but her heart wanted Mark. She’d given her brain a chance
to get it right, but it had failed. Now it was her heart’s turn.
Hopefully, the damn thing knew what it was doing. If it didn’t, and
Mark left her again, it might be the last mistake her heart ever
made.

Chapter 27

Mark stared up at the ceiling. He and Karma had made
love almost non-stop for the last three hours. His lack of sexual
contact for over a year had been too much to overcome when she
touched him…pressed her mouth against his back…kissed him. He’d
dreamed of this moment for so long, but now, lying in the darkness
illuminated only by the street lamp outside, reality settled back
in.

What had he done? Distress twisted inside his
gut. This wasn’t how he wanted to win Karma back. Not while she was
still engaged. She belonged to another man, for Christ’s sake. And
yet he’d fucked her. He had fucked another man’s woman. He had
broken his cardinal rule.

Self-loathing roiled through his veins. He
was no better than Antonio. He had become the one thing he had
promised he would never be. A man who fucked over another man by
sleeping with his woman.

Shit.

He rubbed his palms up and down his face then
turned and looked at her. She was sound asleep. Still as a leaf on
a windless day. If not for the heavy rise and fall of her chest, he
could have mistaken her for dead. But he’d never seen anything more
beautiful than her that very moment. For a year, all he’d wanted
was to have her back, but not like this. Not by coming between her
and Brad so underhandedly.

This wasn’t good.

As quietly as he could, he eased out of the
bed. Damn. It was after nine. He should have been in Chicago by
now. Not only had he broken a cardinal rule, he’d dropped the ball
on getting back to Chicago in time for his fitting in the morning.
If he left right now, he could be home by midnight and still not
punk out on Rob. Then he could figure out how he was going to fix
this with Karma.

After pulling on his pants and grabbing his
shoes, he tiptoed back to the kitchen, where he retrieved his shirt
from the floor and grabbed a piece of paper and a pen from the
utility drawer.

Karma,

I didn’t want to wake you.

Thank you for tonight.

Have to go. Will call you.

M

The note was short and sweet, but right now,
he didn’t know what else to say, and he didn’t have time to figure
it out. He was so unbelievably late already, and his head was a
disaster area of emotional turmoil. He hated himself for what he’d
done. How could he have been so careless?

Turning in a rushed flourish, he didn’t see
the note lift off the counter and slide down between the cabinet
and the refrigerator.

Dressing quickly, he gave a final look around
before grabbing his coat and slipping out the door.

In his car, he checked his messages. An
hour-old text from Rob read
Where the hell are you? You’re
missing dinner.

Damn. That’s right. There’d been a dinner
planned tonight for a few friends in the wedding party.

He typed out a quick reply.
Sorry.
Delayed. On my way now.

* * *

Karma woke with a smile on her face and her body
aching in the most delightful way. She’d been dreaming about
Mark.

She rolled over, ready to snuggle into him
and persuade him into another round, only to be greeted by cold
sheets and an empty bed.

“Mark?” She sat up, searching the shadows.
The clock on her nightstand showed it was almost one in the
morning.

Surely, he hadn’t left. Not without saying
good-bye. That wouldn’t have been like him. At least not the Mark
she remembered.

“Mark?” She got up and pulled on her
robe.

The apartment was dead silent.

The light from the kitchen was on, and she
smiled. Okay, he’d just gotten up for something to eat.

“Hey, what are you—” When she turned the
corner, the kitchen was just as empty as the rest of her
apartment.

She glanced into the living room and frowned.
Had he really left? Without saying good-bye?

That’s when she noticed his clothes were
gone.

Okay, so maybe he’d left a note. When she
found none, she returned to the bedroom and turned on the light,
coming up empty after searching the desk, the bed, the dresser,
everywhere.

This wasn’t funny, anymore. She could
understand why Mark wouldn’t want to wake her, but Old Mark
wouldn’t have left without at least leaving her a note. He wasn’t
that crass.

As dread began to filter into her heart, she
dug her phone from her purse. Nothing. Not a single text or missed
phone call.

She dropped her phone back in her purse and
slowly sat on the edge of the bed, numb. It felt like all the air
had been sucked out of the room, as if she were deflating like a
hot air balloon with an empty propane tank.

Oh God, what had she done? She’d given
herself to him…she’d taken a chance and opened her heart to him one
more time. And now he was gone. Again. Without a word.

Of course he would leave. This very second,
he was probably regretting everything they’d done to one another.
Otherwise, why would he leave without saying good-bye or leaving at
least a scribble of…what? Of gratitude? Of farewell? Her shoulders
sagged. Could she blame him? She knew the score. Nothing had
changed. He didn’t want any long-term involvements any more now
than he had before. Leaving covertly while she slept was his way of
letting her know he still wanted what he’d wanted before. No
commitments. No strings. Untethered solidarity. And even if he did
want more, she was still technically engaged. That had to sit as
well on Mark’s stomach as poison ivy.

Speaking of which…she’d cheated on her
fiancé. She’d cheated on Brad like a slut. A no-good, slutty,
loose-between-the-legs ho.

Maybe Jade had been right.

It didn’t matter that she’d taken off the
ring or that, in her mind, she had already broken up with him. She
hadn’t actually said the words or returned the ring. She was no
longer in love with Brad and needed to break off their engagement,
but instead of doing that, she’d run behind his back and cheated.
She’d thought she was a better girlfriend than that. That she would
have at least had the gumption to break things off before sleeping
with someone else.

Her only defense was that she’d been overcome
by grief. Spookie’s death had shattered her sense of reason and
flipped her upside down. She had wanted the comfort.
Needed
it. But now she realized that even if Brad had come over, he only
would have made her feel worse. Tonight had cleared her vision
about Brad, but now her vision was totally mucked up where Mark was
concerned.