Taming the Wolf (17 page)

When Samara awoke the next morning, the first thing she remembered was Marcus’s marriage proposal. In the pale light of day, she didn’t know which was more shocking to her: the proposal itself, or her swift response. She could hardly believe she’d accepted—and yet she knew no other response would have been possible.

She was hopelessly in love with Marcus. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.
“What’s going through that beautiful head of yours?”
Samara looked over and found Marcus awake and watching her quietly. The room’s predawn shadows enhanced the faint growth of stubble along his jaw, making him look roguishly sexy.
“Good morning,” she murmured.
“Mmm. It is, isn’t it?” he drawled, his voice a deep, husky rumble she felt in the pit of her stomach.
As he raised himself up on one elbow to gaze down at her, Samara felt her breath catch in her throat. In his eyes she could easily become lost, carried away in those infinite pools of onyx. And in that instant she realized the enormity of her situation. It was dangerous to have allowed herself to fall so hard for Marcus. She’d spent years avoiding serious relationships in order to protect herself from heartache. In less than two weeks, Marcus Wolf had infiltrated her ironclad defenses and invaded her heart.
And there was no turning back.
Almost tentatively, Samara reached up and cradled his lean cheek in her hand. Her eyes searched his. “Marcus, about last night…” she trailed off uncertainly.
Marcus turned his head and kissed the center of her palm, his expression serious. “The answer is yes. I meant to propose to you last night, and I don’t regret it this morning.” His solemn gaze traced her features. “Do you regret accepting?”
Samara shook her head against the pillow. “No.”
He smiled, then bent his head and kissed her gently on the lips. Hope bloomed in Samara’s chest. Maybe it was finally time to let go of her fears. Maybe everything would be all right from now on.
She curved a hand around Marcus’s neck, holding him closer as she deepened the kiss. He murmured his approval against her mouth. Before she could draw another breath, he swept her into his arms, swung his long legs from the bed and carried her into the adjoining bathroom.
She had only a glimpse of gleaming brass faucets and black marble tile before steam enveloped them inside the glass shower stall. She stared up at Marcus as he stood before her, naked and fully aroused, water sluicing down his powerful body. Her throat went dry as desire flooded her, a pulsing ache between her legs.
Dark eyes smoldering, Marcus lifted a bar of soap and began lathering his hands instead of a washcloth. Samara swallowed with difficulty as he slowly massaged the froth of bubbles into her shoulders.
“You know,” she managed huskily, “I can wash myself.”
His eyes flickered with a devilish glint. “Of course you can.”
She gasped as deliciously callused hands covered her sensitive breasts and slathered soap onto the swollen mounds. “As a matter of fact,” she continued thickly, “I’ve been washing myself for a long time now. And I think—” Her voice broke as his slippery hands made their way down her torso. She quivered uncontrollably when he caressed her thighs.
“Marcus…”
“Shhh. Just relax.” He knelt and focused his attention on the curve of her calves, then the delicate arch of her feet. Samara closed her eyes as his hands glided up her legs once again. He paused for a moment, and Samara swore she could feel the heat of his gaze scorching her wet flesh. She held herself rigid until his hand reached her feminine triangle. He massaged soap into the silken tuft of hair before one finger slipped beyond and began caressing her intimately. Samara moaned and grasped his shoulders.
Before she could recover from the erotic ministrations, he drew his head toward her body. His finger was replaced by the warm stroke of his tongue.
Samara cried out sharply and threw back her head. Need pounded furiously through her. Her legs parted of their own accord, allowing him greater access. She cradled the back of his head as his wet tongue probed deep inside her. Her moans of ecstasy escalated, piercing the steamy shower stall. Marcus’s expert tongue glided over the swollen folds of flesh, back and forth, in and out, suckling lavishly, until Samara could take no more. She screamed his name as her body began convulsing.
Marcus caught her in his arms as he straightened from his kneeling position. Flesh met flesh as his mouth took hot possession of hers, sharing her taste with her. He pressed his firm erection against her stomach and deepened the carnal kiss until it grew wild and fiery, their tongues mating frantically. He backed Samara against the shower wall and gripped her hips, lifting her from the floor. She clung to his shoulders and wrapped her legs around his waist.
Marcus groaned softly as he entered her. Samara arched her back, and he plunged deeper within her, their bodies moving in perfect unison as they quickly found their rhythm. Warm water caressed their limbs, adding to the sheer sensuality of their coupling. Marcus cupped her buttocks as he thrust harder and faster, his smoldering gaze boring into hers.
“Talk to me,” he huskily commanded above the shower’s roar and their mingled moans. “Are you all right?”
“I’m good,” came her breathless reply. He increased the tempo and she groaned. “Better than good.”
She was on the verge of shattering when Marcus rocked his hips one final time and stiffened against her, his grip tightening on her buttocks. Their loud cries blended as they climaxed together in a violent rush.
Minutes later a weakened Samara emerged from the steamy bathroom and collapsed on the bed while Marcus finished showering. She was completely exhausted from their lovemaking marathon, and it was barely six in the morning. She couldn’t imagine returning to her house to get dressed for work. For the first time in a long time, work was the last thing on her mind.
She sat up as Marcus stepped from the bathroom with a bath towel draped around his waist and strode across the large room to the walk-in closet. As she watched, he opened the doors to reveal an enormous closet filled with an arsenal of business suits. All of them were Italian and professionally pressed, lining the cavernous closet with military precision.
Samara whistled softly through her teeth. “So that’s where your fortune is going.” Marcus merely grinned at her over his shoulder.
She lay down again and snuggled deeper into the downy softness of the cotton bath towel she was wrapped in. The towel was so big it hung well past her knees. She sighed languidly. “I don’t think I can move, Marcus. You might come home this evening and find me in the exact same position.”
Marcus chuckled, eyeing her in the huge bed with her damp hair spread across the pillow. “I’d have no objections to that. Matter of fact,” he drawled wickedly, approaching the bed, “It would make it a lot easier to pick up where we left off.”
“That works,” Samara replied sleepily, “Because I’m going to need about ten or twelve hours to get my second wind.”
Marcus sat down on the edge of the bed near her. Lovingly, he caressed her smooth bare shoulder. “I know we’ve been otherwise…occupied, but have you given any thought to possible wedding dates?”
That instantly rejuvenated her. She pulled herself up to a sitting position and looked at him. Her voice was soft with surprised wonder. “You mean you’re ready to discuss details?” So he was serious about this.
“Of course.” Marcus traced the soft shell of her ear with a lazy finger. “Don’t tell me. You’re surprised because you assumed most men leave all the planning to their fiancées and just show up on the appointed day.”
Samara grinned sheepishly. “Well…”
“I’m not most men, Samara.” He smiled at her to soften the mild censure in his tone. “I was actually thinking about an early September wedding.”
“This September? But it’s already April.”
Marcus was nonplussed. “Does it take longer than six months to plan a wedding?”
“It depends on how elaborate the ceremony will be. You have to take so many things into consideration, like reserving a place for the reception, securing a caterer, ordering invitations and flowers.” She ticked off the items on her fingers while Marcus tried not to reel from information overload. “And then there’s my wedding gown, which I suppose could be bought off the rack for the sake of time—”
Marcus shook his head. “No. I want something special made just for you. A wedding gown you would cherish for years to come, maybe pass along to our daughter someday.”
“Oh, Marcus.” Samara was deeply touched by the sentimentality of his words. She reached out, laying a gentle hand across his cheek. She suddenly felt foolish for running off at the mouth like that. She’d never imagined she would become one of those obsessed bridezillas whose constant companion was a monstrously thick binder filled with wedding details from A-Z.
Come to think of it, she’d never imagined getting married. Period.
“None of that other stuff matters,” she said softly to Marcus. “As long as we’re together, I don’t care what I wear. I would marry you in a burlap sack if you didn’t object.”
He chuckled softly. “Sweetheart, I would still think you were the most beautiful bride I’d ever seen.” He leaned close and kissed her gently on the lips. “I love you.”
“And that’s enough for me,” Samara whispered against his warm mouth. She draped her arms around his neck, and they shared a long, deep kiss.
When they drew apart, Samara wore a shy smile. “I have thought of the perfect place to hold the wedding though. It actually occurred to me while we were there—not that I was expecting us to get married at the time or anything,” she hastened to add.
Marcus smiled softly. “I know what you meant. Now where’s this perfect place?”
“The garden at your father’s home in Stone Mountain. It’s breathtaking.”
“You’re right, it is.” His smile deepened. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, baby girl.”
“You do?” She threw her arms around his neck excitedly. “It’s going to be beautiful, Marcus! Just wait and see.”
“I can’t wait.”
“Marcus?”
“Hmm?”
She pulled back, her eyes twinkling with sudden mischief. “Let’s play hooky today. The weather’s supposed to be gorgeous. We could go down to the Tidal Basin to see the cherry blossoms before they’re gone. Then we can act like tourists and do a little sightseeing around D.C., maybe have lunch on a ferry.”
“Sounds good, but…”
“I finished all of my important meetings yesterday. What about you?”
“I don’t have any meetings today. But I do have a few conference calls scheduled.”
“Okay…maybe next time.” Samara tried not to sound too disappointed. She understood how incredibly busy he was, especially since he was trying to get his new office established. She didn’t want to interfere with his work.
“One of those conference calls could be postponed until next week,” Marcus said slowly, thinking aloud, “And my senior associates can handle the other two for me. I just need to call and bring them up to speed.”
“Only if you’re absolutely sure it won’t be a problem.”
“It’s no problem.” His gaze softened on her face. “I’d be a fool to pass up on the opportunity to spend an entire day with my brideto-be.”
She warmed with pleasure. “We’ll have a great time, I promise.”
Marcus used the phone on the side table to call the office. Samara stared at his handsome profile as he gave instructions to his secretary.
While he spoke on the phone, he never stopped touching Samara. He stroked her hair and ran his finger down her arm. Without missing a beat, he reached beneath the towel and found her breast. Samara gasped as he cupped her breast in his warm palm before brushing the pad of his thumb across the nipple, making it tighten in response. Marcus met her aroused look with a slow, knowing grin.
Two can play that game, thought Samara. She shifted her body away from his marauding caresses and knelt on the bed beside him. As he watched her, she leaned close, lightly nipping his earlobe with her teeth. A faint shudder passed through him. Emboldened, Samara opened her mouth and flicked her tongue against his ear. She heard his breath escape on a soft hiss. But he continued speaking calmly with his secretary.
Slowly, seductively, Samara danced her fingertips across his collarbone. She ran her hand down the broad expanse of his chest, caressing hard, muscled flesh before trailing lower. Marcus’s breathing quickened as she spread her hand across his taut abdomen and traced a rhythmic circular pattern. She slipped her fingers beneath the waistband of his towel and roamed until she found just what she was looking for. Marcus’s erection strained against the cotton. She wrapped one hand around the hard, throbbing length and gently squeezed.
Bingo.
Marcus made a strangled noise, half grunt and half groan. On the other end of the phone, his concerned secretary must have asked him what was wrong.
“Nothing, Barbara,” he mumbled hoarsely. “I-I’m fine, don’t worry.”
Grinning now, Samara nibbled on his earlobe while stroking the granite-smooth hardness in her hand. Marcus’s breathing grew ragged.
“Listen, Barbara, I need to go. Just have Donovan, Timothy or Helen give me a call when they get in the office. Thanks.” He hung up and turned to Samara. His dark eyes smoldered dangerously. “You must be trying to bankrupt me, woman.”
“What do you mean?”
Marcus reached for her towel. “Because if this is what I have to look forward to every morning, I’ll never go to work.”

Samara’s laughter was short-lived as Marcus stripped the towel from her body and tossed it aside before discarding his own. Pushing her back onto the mattress, he covered her naked body with his. The exhaustion she’d felt only minutes before evaporated. She tugged his head down to hers for a greedy kiss. Marcus captured her wild cry in his mouth as he thrust deep inside her.

Melissa lifted her head from the clothing rack she’d been sifting through. Samara held up a maternity dress in a soft shade of green for her to examine.

“Nice,” Melissa murmured, reaching for the dress. “Very nice.” The two women had taken an extended lunch break that Monday afternoon and headed to Pentagon City Shopping Mall in northern Virginia. Just eight weeks pregnant, Melissa was already complaining that her clothes didn’t fit anymore.

Melissa added the green summer dress to the growing pile on her arm and sighed. “I’m going to have to put something back on the rack. I promised Gary I wouldn’t go on a mad shopping spree today, but I can’t seem to help myself. Everything is just too cute for words.”