Good Karma (26 page)

“I brought dessert,” he said. He lifted a
plain white bag.

“Dessert?” She followed him to the
kitchen.

He motioned for her to have a seat at the
bar. “No peeking.”

“You like surprises, don’t you?” She sat down
on a bar stool and leaned on her elbows.

“Don’t you?” He glanced mischievously over
his shoulder as he set the bag on the counter.

“Surprises are good. Yes.”

Keeping his back to her and shielding the
bag, Mark grabbed a plate from the cabinet and began pulling out
items and set them on the counter.

“They’re saying a bad storm is on the way.”
She gazed at the way the muscles of his back and shoulders flexed
and bunched under his shirt as he went about his business. What if
she walked up behind him and slid her hands under his shirt so she
could feel all that strength roll against her palms? Mmm, that was
a nice thought.

He had such thick arms, too. In a suit or
long-sleeved shirt, you didn’t really notice how big they were, but
in a short-sleeved shirt like he was wearing tonight, you couldn’t
miss them. Arms, hands, chests. That’s what turned Karma on, and
Mark had each in spades.

“Yes, I saw that on the news while I was
getting ready to come over,” he said. “Are you afraid of storms?”
He scooped something out of one of the containers and placed it on
the plate, but Karma couldn’t see anything but the wall of his
impressive body.

“No. I love storms.”

He looked over his shoulder. “Me, too. We get
some good ones in Chicago.” He turned back around.

“So, what have you got there?” She lifted off
her seat and craned her neck to see around his arm. All she saw was
something that looked like chocolate.

That was a good sign. Chocolate was good.

“Just wait,” he said. “No peeking.” He
stepped to the side to block her prying eyes.

She huffed and flopped back down on the bar
stool. “You know, making a woman wait for dessert is grounds for
getting the cold shoulder.” As if she could ever give him the cold
shoulder.

“We’ll see.” He sounded so self-assured.

She drummed her fingers impatiently as he
worked far too slowly. “Are you plating for Gordon Ramsey over
there?” she said.

He threw her a fake glare over his shoulder.
“Hush, or you won’t get any chocolate chunk brownie.” He turned,
and in his hands, he held a plate with the most incredible piece of
culinary artistry ever created.

Her mouth gaped as he crossed the kitchen and
set the masterpiece on the counter in front of her.

The brownie was a double stack of chocolaty
goodness, one square settled on top of another at a diagonal. Large
chunks of dark chocolate nestled within each perfectly baked
morsel, and what looked like dollops of fudge oozed like heaven
from the sides down to the plate. Golden caramel zigzagged over the
top and down the edges, and what looked like vanilla cream was
drizzled perpendicularly to the caramel and pooled around the base
of the bottom brownie.

Mark returned to the bag, pulled out one last
container with two cherries inside, and situated them just-so on
the top of the mountain of decadence.

“Here’s to chocolate chunk brownies and all
they entail,” he said with a smile, cutting off a gooey bite with a
fork and holding it toward her.

“Oh, you’re good,” she said, leaning
forward.

“I know.” He winked playfully as she took the
forkful into her mouth. “How is it?” His eyes twinkled and one
corner of his mouth curved upward as he watched her eat.

Flavors crashed together and exploded against
her taste buds. This had to be the best damn brownie she had ever
eaten.
Ever!
Angels should have been in her kitchen, singing
and rejoicing, or weeping with overwhelming ecstasy, it was so
good.

“Oh my God,” she mumbled through brownie.
“Mmmm.” She closed her eyes and relished the taste and exquisite,
melt-in-your-mouth texture. She moaned again, chewing slowly.
Flavors burst one over the other, chocolate upon chocolate with a
hint of vanilla and caramel, which coated her tongue like ribbons
of buttery goodness.

“Good?” he said, crossing his arms and
resting them on the counter.

She nodded, swallowed, and then took another
bite. Mark grinned, straightened, and returned to the bag on the
opposite counter, where he pulled out a small blue square,
returned, and set it in front of her. It was a piece of Dove milk
chocolate.

Covering her mouth, she laughed. “I see your
point,” she said, looking at the brownie then the Dove square.

If a G-spot orgasm the Mark Strong way was
indeed like this brownie, which should have had a spotlight on it,
then she was definitely in store for a lot of moans instead of
smiles. But she would take the smiles, too.

He leaned on the counter. “And what’s my
point, Miss Mason?”

With a coy smile, she eyed her plate then
looked back at him. “Let’s just say I hope you give me lots of
brownies if they’re going to be this good.”

A devious smile lit his face as the mood
shifted slightly toward sexual. “I can manage that.”

She picked up the fork and grabbed another
bite. “My God, this is good.”

“Can I have a taste?”

“Can a man experience chocolate chunk
brownies?” She smirked and licked caramel off her fork.

“No, but I can choose to withhold them.”

“Awe, you’re no fun.” Giving in, she nodded
toward the silverware drawer. “Grab a fork there, teacher, and dig
in and help me eat this incredible thing.”

As he joined her, she stared at the planes of
his face, his Grecian nose, his strong chin with the small dimple
in the center, the sharp slope of his jaw, and the way the muscles
of his cheek and jaw bunched and flexed as he chewed. Seriously,
the guy was gorgeous. And he was here, with her, giving her
chocolate chunk brownies…or preparing to, however you wanted to
look at it.

He swirled the last piece of brownie in the
vanilla sauce on the plate, and her gaze dropped to his hand.

“I like your hands.” She set down her fork,
reached across the counter, and caressed the backs of his fingers.
His skin was warm. “They’re man’s hands.”

“Oh?” He sounded intrigued. “And what exactly
are man’s hands?”

“The kind you have,” she said evasively. The
atmosphere around them heightened with sensuality, and her pulse
quickened.

Mark set his fork on the empty plate and came
around the counter. “You can do better than that.” His voice purred
from his throat, low and seductive.

“Haven’t we discussed this already,” she said
as he spun her around on the bar stool and stepped between her
knees.

“Only that you’re a woman who likes hands,
but not what makes mine ‘man’s hands.’ I’m eager to hear your
definition.” His sexy smirk sent a quiver of heat down her spine.
Before she could utter another word, he gripped her hips and tugged
her sharply toward him.

She gasped at his aggressiveness. “That. What
you just did. That’s what makes them man’s hands.”

“Does it now?” He encroached more fully into
her personal space and licked his lips. “Duly noted.” His palms
flowed down the tops of her thighs. “But I’m glad you like my
hands.”

Her breath hitched. “Why’s that?” He was so
close she could feel his body heat.

“Because my hands like touching you.” For
emphasis, his palms slid back up the outside of her thighs to her
hips, where he took hold of her again. He leaned in. “By the way,
you look nice tonight,” he whispered, drawing his tongue down to
her bare shoulder. He let go of her hip and brushed back her
hair.

She was wearing a demure, baby-doll halter
that fit more securely around the bodice but draped like the skirt
of a flowing gown below her breasts. She almost hadn’t put it on
because of how much skin it showed, but now she was glad she had.
“Thank you.”

His lips brushed over her skin. “How’s your
reading coming along?” He sounded distracted.

Breathless, Karma’s pulse quickened.
“Good.”

“Learning anything about yourself?” He softly
kissed the side of her neck.

She nodded, and her eyelids drifted shut.
“Mm-hm.”

“And your Kegels? You’ve been doing them?”
His lips eased up the side of her neck to her ear.

“Mm-hm.” She tried not to melt.

“And your training?” His voice was a hot
whisper.

It took her a moment to understand he was
referring to the glass dildos. “You haven’t been here to help me,”
she whispered back, sounding like she’d just dove into a pool of
chilled water from the way her breath hitched.

“I’m here now.”

Yes, he was. Very much so.

He dotted tiny kisses back down her neck and
along her jaw, and then paused only a second before taking her
bottom lip between both of his.

That falling sensation she was beginning to
associate with Mark’s kisses swirled inside her stomach the moment
their mouths touched, and when his tongue flicked along the seam of
her lips in a tender invasion, the weightless sensation flared
again like hummingbird wings in flight.

He tasted like chocolate and vanilla, and his
lips were smooth and warm. Strong. Demanding, but in a subtle way
that hinted at forced restraint.

Not long ago, Karma would have tensed in his
arms. Her inexperienced, self-conscious side would have forced her
to anxiously withdraw, but those days were quickly fading into the
past. Mark was gently leading her down a new path, guiding her
smoothly into a new existence. One where she relaxed more, enjoyed
the experience of being in a man’s arms, and felt more comfortable
seeking what gave her pleasure.

When had she ever felt beautiful and
desirable before Mark came along? Never. Gratitude blossomed for
these gifts he was giving her, and for once, she let herself go.
She gave in to the ravenous yearning that begged her to explore
what he offered. Surging against him, her arms drove around his
shoulders, and her legs locked at the ankles around his hips.

In unison, they both moaned, and his mouth
crashed hard and deep against hers, bending her backward against
the force of his arousal. The backs of her shoulders dug into the
counter behind her, and his grip tightened as he tugged her lower
body forward on the stool until the juncture between her legs met
the hardness beneath the zipper of his jeans. Lust bulleted down
her thighs and up her spine, making her groan and grind herself
against him. A guttural rumble stirred from his throat at the
increased contact, and he thrust himself against her as his teeth
latched onto her bottom lip.

They’d gone from playful teasing to full-on
fuck-me mode in less than five seconds. Their chemistry with one
another was off the charts and undeniable…breathtaking and
mind-blowing.

Gasping into his mouth, Karma shoved her
fingers into his thick hair and gripped a handful as she would the
mane of a stallion if she were riding bareback. If she didn’t hold
on tight, she would tumble off, and she didn’t want to fall. She
wanted the ride to keep going. He growled as she reinforced her
grip with both hands and let her tongue dance with his. She was
lost to unbridled passion, consumed by desire.

Then she was being lifted off the stool. And
not just lifted, but hoisted like a maiden being rescued from a
dragon’s lair into her savior’s arms. Without breaking the urgent
kisses shattering her mental barriers, Mark carried her through the
living room, down the hall, and to the bedroom. Somewhere in her
conscious mind, she knew where they were going…knew the intimacy
her bedroom implied…but she couldn’t stop him. The last thing she
wanted was to put an end to the incredible, lip-searing way his
mouth took hers over and over…the way his tongue stroked hers as if
he couldn’t get far enough inside her. He kicked the bedroom door
open, hustled her inside, and crashed over her as they fell onto
the bed.

Mark was like ocean surf quickly building in
strength and power, rolling against her, consuming her,
relentlessly spiraling her up, up, and still further until she was
riding on the crest of his wave.

She had been starving, famished for pleasure.
Now Mark was giving it to her.

The voice in the back of her mind told her
she needed to stop, but her body was too far gone to listen, too
caught up in its gluttonous binge.

Mark’s mouth, his lips, his tongue…they
ravished her, stole her breath, further weakened whatever thread of
resolve she had left. It was like he was just as hungry as she was.
As if he, too, was overwhelmed with the need to take all he could
before it was too late. They were soaring out of control, and he
didn’t seem capable of stopping any more than she was.

Then one of his hands pushed under her
blouse, speeding toward her breast.

That’s when Karma shot back to reality the
same way she had in his hotel room the night they met.

“No!” She jumped and slammed her hand down on
his before she could stop herself.

Mark jerked away and yanked his hand out from
under her shirt, eyes wide and confused, as if he, too, had just
come back to his senses.

The sexually intoxicating mood vaporized.
Gone. Destroyed again by Karma’s childhood memories.

“I’m sorry.” Karma immediately felt the need
to apologize. “I just—”

“Sshh.” He cupped her face and shook his
head. He appeared dazed. His brow crinkled. “I shouldn’t have…” He
trailed off as if he wasn’t sure what he shouldn’t have done.

They were both breathing hard, strained to
their physical limits.

Old memories rushed back from Karma’s
childhood. This wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t him, it was her. And
how cliché was that?
It’s not you, it’s me.
Blech! She
didn’t want to say something so pathetic at a moment like this.

“Mark—”

“No. I’m sorry.” He rolled onto his back. He seemed
disoriented and stared up at the ceiling.