She nodded, her mouth frantic on his. “Never. Stopped. Loving. You.” She punctuated each word with a hard little kiss.
He groaned again. “God, I love you, sweetheart. I know I’m little better than a shit-stain on humanity, but I’m working to be the kind of man you can be proud of—”
“You are,” she reassured between quick nibbles on his lips. “You are, Rob. You’re wonderful. It’s me that’s the jerk.”
“No,” he breathed against her mouth, and then pulled away a little so he could look her in the eyes. His hands gripped the sides of her face, and his thumbs stroked her cheeks. “No, Marjorie. You were right to feel that way. Like I said, all my life, I never gave a shit about what anyone else thought. And then I met you and there was someone to impress. I wanted to make you proud. And I’ve never felt like that before.”
“I am proud of you,” she told him, breathless. “So, so proud. You did an amazing thing. I never expected it in a million years. I thought you’d forget about me once I left the island.”
“Forget about you?” He chuckled and shook his head. “If only I could. You’re constantly in my mind.” He kissed her again. “I take it back. I wouldn’t forget about you, even if I could do it. I love you. I adore you. I want you with me, always.”
“I love you, too. I love you so much, Rob.” She kissed him again, so very happy. Her heart felt like it was bursting at the moment. “I can’t believe you followed me out to New York.”
“Of course I did,” he told her, pressing his mouth against hers once more. “You were out here, so this was where I wanted to be.” Even as his mouth caressed hers, his gaze slid over to the side. “I think your ponytail is in my paint, though.”
“Does the shower work here?” she asked.
“Think so. But I don’t know that I have any towels.”
She glanced over at the bed. “How clean is that blanket?”
“Clean enough.” He grabbed her behind the knees and tugged her into his arms. Then, swinging her against him, he carried her to the bathroom.
Marjorie pressed her mouth against his neck, glorying in his scent. Even sweaty and streaked with paint, he smelled wonderful.
He groaned. “God, your mouth.” His hand slid to her back, and he gently set her down. “Don’t laugh at my seventies-tastic bathroom, sweetheart. I’m going to get this all remodeled.”
She looked up for the first time . . . and giggled.
The bathroom was awful. Really awful. The walls were a horrid mustard color that had been textured with a darker gold. The tile itself was a dark, stormy green and looked as if it was designed to be the same color as a dead frog. The counters were a matching swirling green and the mirror in front of the vanity had enormous ornate gilt edges. The shower was encased in mirrors—mirrors, of all things—and across the far side of the bathroom was a claw-footed tub.
“Oh wow,” she breathed. “This is really, really awful.”
“Isn’t it?” Rob chuckled. “I’m almost proud of its hideousness to the point that I want to leave it as an homage to the decade.”
“Please don’t,” she said, laughing. “Please.”
“All right,” he teased, and his arms went around her again. “But just for you, sweetheart.”
She smiled to hear the words, and her arms went around his neck again, and then they were kissing once more. His hands tugged at her shirt and she obediently pulled away from him and raised her arms so he could lift it over her head. It came off her skin wetly, and he grimaced as he pulled it off of her. “I hope this shirt wasn’t important to you, because it is now covered in paint.”
“I don’t care,” Marjorie told him, running her hands up and down his chest. “I would gladly sacrifice my entire wardrobe to the paint gods if it meant I get you in my arms again.”
“You don’t even have to go that far,” he told her, and his hands slid around her waist and down to her ass. “My requirements are easy.”
“What are they?”
His forehead pressed to hers and his nose rubbed against her own. “Just love me, Marjorie.”
Oh god, her heart was breaking. “I do,” she told him softly. “So much. There’s no one for me but you.”
“I feel the same.” He gently kissed her mouth, and his hands went to the back clasp of her bra. “And I can’t wait to get you naked again.”
She couldn’t, either. As he unhooked her bra, her hands slid down his back and then she pushed her fingers into the waistband of his loose pants. He still wore no underwear, which made her sigh with pleasure. Her hands plucked at his skin. “I want you undressed, too.”
“Let’s get some of this paint off you, first,” he said, and his mouth curved into a smile. “I’m not the one rolling around on the wall.”
“You pushed me against it,” she protested, even as she leaned back so he could undo the snap on her jeans. It came free and she wriggled them down her hips, just in time to hear his groan of pleasure. He’d noticed that her panties matched her bra, then? She had one pretty set of black-and-pink, see-through lingerie, and she’d worn it tonight.
“Just looking at you is killing me,” Rob told her, his hands caressing her skin as she stepped out of her jeans.
“Well, it’s your fault I have to shower,” she told him, and added a little wiggle into her movements as she stood up again. Her bra was unhooked on her back and still cupped her breasts in the front, and now she wore nothing but it and her panties. To tease him further, she turned around, stuck her bottom out a little, and began to slowly wiggle the panties down her hips.