M McDonald - March Into Hell

"I got to the loft, and you were nowhere to be found. I called Jim. He said you were here. He also mentioned the fiasco this morning. What were you thinking to leave without someone around? You were just damn lucky Jim showed up when he did." She stood in front of him, arms crossed and her eyes flashing as she cast a dubious glance at the empty glass. “I thought you were on medications?”

“I finished them, not that it’s any of your business.”

Bob turned to look at Jessie and then gave Mark an amused look. Feeling like a scolded schoolboy, Mark slid off the stool and headed for the door. She could follow or not, but he wasn’t going to invite her. The rapid click of her shoes behind him let him know that she followed.

Her car was parked out front, and he debated passing it and walking home or catching a cab, but decided it would just make him look silly, so he climbed into the passenger seat when she unlocked the door. Neither spoke on the drive back to Mark's loft, and the feeling of being a teen caught out after curfew settled over him. He had a feeling it was going to be a long evening.

“Where’s your sling?”

Mark ignored her while he found the remote between the sofa cushions and turned the game on. If he was lucky, he'd get to see the last few innings. He flopped onto the couch and brought his legs up, crossing them at the ankles. He heard her sigh as she moved behind him and then a thump as she set her purse on the counter top. The refrigerator door creaked and he found it somewhat amusing that she still felt comfortable enough to help herself. It even felt right.

He tilted his head towards her when she sat on the chair, a bottle of water in one hand and a bag of cookies in her lap. He didn’t even know he had cookies. Chocolate chip. His favorite. It must have been one of the items that Lily had stocked him with.

She bit into one then spoke a few seconds later. “I guess I should have kept my mouth shut at O'Leary's. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I think it’s low blood sugar. I’m starving.”

Mark returned his focus on the game, but he felt tension ease out of his muscles.

“Who’s winning?”

“Cubs. Three to two.” Without looking, he held his hand out and Jessie placed three cookies in it. He smiled.

They crunched cookies and Jessie poured them each a tall glass of milk to go with them. By the bottom of the seventh inning, Mark felt his eyes grow heavy.

Mark awoke by degrees as he heard the game still droning on-something about extra innings. A distant car horn sounded. He was so comfortable that he was loathe to move. With nowhere important to go, he allowed himself the luxury of relaxing. It was so quiet, he wondered if Jessie had left.

He cracked his eyes open. The light outside filtered pink and gold through the windows. Jessie sat slumped in the chair, her legs stretched out, and he assumed she was dozing. Then he saw her eyes were open and focused on him. Her face wore a soft look he hadn’t seen in ages, and curious, he kept his eyes only slivered, watching her through his eyelashes.

While she freely watched him, Mark took the opportunity to return the observation. Her skin glowed in the soft light. He always thought she had beautiful eyes when they weren’t shooting daggers at him. The long lashes and delicately arched brows framed eyes that didn’t miss a thing. Her white blouse fit her well and he admired the smooth skin of her neck and followed it down to where it disappeared.

She continued to observe him, her gaze roaming his body, lingering at times. For the first time since she'd left him, she looked at him not with anger, pity, or exasperation but with something else. His body recognized the look and his face warmed. Would she see his breathing quicken? Mark shifted, and knew that his face must be flaming red now.

Her eyes widened and flew to his. Jessie’s cheeks stained as she met his gaze. Mark couldn’t look away and surprise shot through him when she held the look. Her tongue darted out, touching the corner of her mouth for an instant and it was all he could do not to groan. He sat up, his eyes dropping to her lips. And then lower. He couldn’t help himself. The fabric made a slim V to the buttons and seemed to draw his eyes down like an arrow point. The visible skin turned a dull red.

“H-have a good nap?” Jessie dipped her head, looking anywhere but at him.

Mark nodded. “Yep. A great nap.”

He scooted over on the sofa, his knee brushing her thigh and he felt a jolt of heat where their bodies touched.

Jessie flinched, but left her leg resting against his. His heart raced when he saw the wild beating of the pulse in her neck. Without thinking, he reached out to touch it. Her eyes followed his hand, and her breath fluttered across his knuckles. He touched the pulse point, feeling the strong beat of her heart. Jessie’s skin felt like warm satin under his fingertips, and he couldn’t get enough of it. Her hair fell forward as she leaned into his hand.

Mark slid his hand farther back, burying his fingers in the silky strands, and her head lolled back as she let out a soft sigh.

“Jessie.”

She opened her eyes and his breath caught at the simmering passion. Leaning in, he captured her lips, tasting them and felt a thrill when he met no resistance. He groaned when her mouth opened, welcoming him. Her arms circled his neck, her fingers skimming through his hair. He'd missed this.

He needed more and pressed closer, lengthening the kiss, savoring it. It wasn't enough. Mark trailed kisses down her neck. She tilted her head, allowing him access. God, she tasted wonderful. Following the curve of her throat down, he felt her shudder beneath his lips. His body trembled as her hands dove down the back of his shirt.

His exploration of her throat continued as he pushed the material aside. Her scent enveloped him, intoxicating his senses. Mark trailed his hand down, his fingers working the first button, popping it free. She leaned back into the chair and Mark followed as he stood, his body almost lying atop hers. Her hands undid several of his shirt buttons and he moaned against the swell of her breast when her hands roamed his shoulders. He freed another button and opened her blouse, absorbing the sight of her. He dipped his head, kissing the valley between her breasts and reached his hands beneath her to unclasp her bra, but his hand tangled in the strap from her shoulder holster. With a muffled curse, he tugged on it.

“Wait!” Jessie went rigid and sat up, almost bashing Mark’s nose with her knee as she scrambled backwards.

Bewildered and panting, Mark stumbled back, half falling on the sofa behind him. “W-what?”

Jessie swung her legs over the arm of the chair and clutched the edges of her shirt, pulling them together. “We…we can’t do this.”

Mark licked his lips, still tasting the hint of salty tang from her skin. “Why not?”

“Because I’m working and you’re…you’re a victim I’m supposed to be protecting, that’s why not!”

His eyes snapped to hers and his stomach clenched. “A victim? That’s how you think of me?”

Her head was down as she straightened her clothing. “Look, Mark. You’ve been under a lot of stress and…” Her face flushed a deep red. “…and it’s natural to look for relief and we have a history, so I understand why you thought-.”

"Stop!" Mark dropped his head and closed his eyes. After a moment, he was able to get his breathing under control, but he glanced at the zipper of his jeans and felt his skin burn all the way to the tips of his ears. He stood and turned his back to her, not knowing what to do. It was a one-room loft and no way was he going to flee to the bathroom. His voice was hoarse when he spoke again. “Could you just…just give me a minute?”