Love Resolution

Avery rose from the black leather sectional as soon as she heard the elevator ding. She watched Marcus step out of the private lift and into the foyer. He tossed his wallet into the chrome bowl on top of the entryway table. His sky blue eyes met hers, and her bottom lip started to quiver. In a couple of long strides, he reached her. Wrapping his hands around her shoulders, he gently pulled her into him.

Even though she was 5’9”, Marcus was four inches taller, and she had to tilt her head back to peer up at his handsome face. Tenderly he gazed back at her, the soothing strength and warmth of his body seeping into hers. During private moments like this, she got a rare and treasured view of the real Marcus Anthony. The sensitive and caring one, not the temperamental rock singer that most knew.

“You been crying all this time?” His sculpted lips turned down at the corners.

She nodded and lowered her head.

“Oh, Avery,” he sighed and lifted her chin to brush firm lips softly across hers. Moving back slightly, he studied her face while the backs of his fingers skimmed over her wet cheeks and then brushed across the tips of her ears.

She shivered.

He threaded his fingers into her hair, sifting through the copper shoulder length strands. “I’m so sorry you’re having to go through this,” he murmured, deep voice rumbling as he tucked her head into his chest.

She relaxed into him. Being in Marcus’ arms always made her feel safe, protected, and loved. The reappearance of her father had entirely the opposite effect. A plethora of old insecurities had resurfaced, making her feel like she was in danger of sliding back into the role of the victimized teenager again. “Is he gone?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah. He didn’t really put up any fuss,” Marcus answered softly, smoothing his hands down her back.

“Thank you.” She let out a shuddering sigh.

“Ace.” He said her name like it was a question.

She tensed. “I don’t want to talk about it, Marcus.” She pulled away and squared her shoulders. “You know the story. He’s an alcoholic. He was neglectful and abusive to Justin and me. Period. End of story. It’s old news that I don’t want to relive. Not after I’ve worked so hard to forget.”

Avery went over and stood in front of the floor to ceiling windows, one of her favorite spots in the apartment. The view was the primary reason the twenty five hundred square foot condominium was valued at well over six million. The sun was setting over West Vancouver in the distance, red and pink ribbons of color trailing across the darkening sky above the sapphire water of the Burrard Inlet below.

Ignoring the tears that tracked silently down her cheeks once more, Avery wrapped her arms around her slender waist. Damn him! Why did her father have to come back into her life right now? His presence was a poison that tainted everything, even her excitement about going out on her first tour.

Marcus came up behind her and placed his warm hands on her tensed shoulders. He turned her around, his expression somber. “Avery, this is me. I of all people know how hard you’ve worked to put your past behind you.”

“No. You don’t know,” she returned still prickly. “You think you do, but you don’t. Not really.” Opposition laced her voice. “Knowing is one thing. Experiencing it is another. You’ll never understand. There’s no common ground between your childhood and mine.”

“You’re right,” he agreed sadly, tucking a coppery strand of her hair behind her ear. “I don’t know what it was like growing up like you did, and it makes me mad to even think about it. But I’m here, and I love you, and I want you to let me help you deal with this.”

“I’m sorry.” She closed the distance between them, and dropped her head onto his shoulder. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“It’s ok.” He stroked her hair silently for a moment. “If you should change your mind about seeing him, he wanted me to tell you that he’s staying in town this week.”

She pulled back, her expression hardened. “I’m not changing my mind.”

“I’m ok with whatever you decide. I won’t push either way. But if you should decide to meet him, I don’t want you going alone, ok?”

“Ok.” She blew out a breath that stirred her bangs.

“Good.” He gave a satisfied nod. “Why don’t you go take a hot bath? I’ll make some rooibos tea and bring it to you.”

“That would be really nice,” she confirmed, weariness weighing her down as she shuffled back to the master bathroom.

Reclining against the back of the garden tub with her eyes closed, she knew the moment he stepped into the room by the way her body reacted, tingling with an awareness that had always been there between the two of them. Even when she’d been disguised as a guy.

Heat that had nothing to do with the temperature of the bath flooded her veins. She opened her eyes to find him leaning back against the door frame looking at her with a heavy lidded gaze. Steam billowed from the white porcelain mug cupped in his masculine hands. Slowly, the focus of his gaze lifted from where her breasts peeked out above the surface of the bubbles to her face. Looking pointedly at the mug, she arched a brow. “Is that for me?”

“The tea you mean?” Marcus asked suggestively, giving her a sexy half smile.

Avery reached out with a soapy arm to take the mug he offered her. “The tea will do… for now,” she said, playing along. Blowing over the top before taking a sip, she sighed with pleasure at the first taste of the rich exotic brew. Warmth from the tea slid down her throat while the passionate expression on Marcus’ face fueled warmth of a different sort.

Purposefully, she sat up further in the water, feeling the bubbles sliding down to her waist. Eyes darkening to deep sapphire followed their path with focused concentration. She started to bring the tea to her mouth again when he abruptly reached for it and removed it from her hands.

The mug clattered as he set it down on the black granite countertop. He grabbed a thick white bath towel off the warming rack. Wordlessly, he unfolded it and held it outstretched for her to step into. “You are so beautiful,” he said watching her rise from the tub.

He wrapped her flushed body in the soft heated towel and swept her off her feet. Cradled tight to his rock-hard chest, she found herself swiftly carried to the bedroom. Her heart hammered excitedly against her ribs as he laid her out on the king sized bed and began to caress her body. With calloused fingertips he expertly stroked her like an instrument that he had mastered. She’d never had a lover like Marcus. Not that there had been many before him. But she could never have imagined anyone making love to her the way he did. Like it was a physical expression of what he felt inside his soul.

He ran his hands across every inch of her sensitized creamy white skin plucking lightly in certain areas, circling teasingly in others, always seeming to intuitively know where and how to touch in a way that would give her the most pleasure. By the time he covered her body with his own she was trembling and ready. She moaned deep in her throat at the exquisite feeling of completion she felt when he finally brought their bodies together.

Over the past week she’d sensed his lovemaking taking on an even higher level of intensity than usual as if he was savoring each moment. Now he made love to her so tenderly and so patiently that it took only moments before he’d coaxed from her the ultimate crescendo. And as it always was between them, after she cried out his name, he soon followed, dampening her vocal release with his mouth over hers, as if he were drinking in her essence.

In the morning she woke and stretched out her arm to find his spot on the bed empty and cold. Wrapping the sheet around her naked body, she padded down the hall following the harmonious sound of the acoustic guitar into the studio. Shirtless, jeans half buttoned, he sat with his bare feet on the top rung of the wooden stool. His head bowed, she watched his arm muscles flex as his fingers picked out a complicated melody. His long dark brown hair shielded his strong jaw from view. Without speaking, he stopped playing, looked at her, and reached out his arm.

She moved forward, the sheet falling abandoned to the floor. His gaze raked appreciatively over her form and her body immediately responded. Blue eyes dark and smoldering with intent, he slid off the stool, twisting at the waist to carefully set down the guitar on a nearby stand. He deftly undid the buttons to his jeans, sliding them down. Fully nude, he stepped forward, pressing his warm hard body against hers. He cradled her face in his hands. For a moment, she saw worry flicker in his blue eyes that she didn’t understand. She covered his hands with her own, a frisson of unease sliding down her spine. He scooted back on the stool, drawing her to him, lifting her body so that it straddled his. With his hands cupping her bottom, he began moving her in a practiced rhythm that made her entire body burn from the inside out. Lingering concern slipped away as the combustible heat between them fanned quickly into a roaring flame.