She’s letting the kisses consume her, letting them intoxicate her. There’s something about this man and the history and the desire and she can’t stop herself. When he pulls the towel loose and it drops, she feels exposed, but instead of backing away, she buries herself in him, his warm, familiar skin. She’s in need of air, even if she doesn’t want it, and when they mutually pull back, she feels his eyes sweep her frame and she feels nervous in the slightest bit, because after all, he’s an amazing pro ball player who can get any woman he wants, definitely women who don’t have stretch marks and who do have the flattest stomachs around.
But as he touches her, she feels her nerve endings combust, shivers up and down her spine, and her insecurities are lost. She finds the bed at the back on her knees, falling back to settle on his bed, comfortable and springy, and she feels five years younger, staring up at him. A smile slides across her features and she’s backing up so her whole body is on the giant bed. Knees slightly parted, elbows propping herself up, her eyes dark and lusty, her whole being completely naked for him, she’s beckoning him with her body.
Whispers. She doesn’t want to break this spell, ever.
She’s watching him type away on his phone, is dying inside with every second that passes that they wait for answers, for news. She’s hoping whoever he is texting has those answers. She listens as he tells her about some crazy fan, and her heart drops. The crude, violent reality of having a child with a celebrity athlete. Everyone wants a piece of him. Especially of Mark Sloan. She feels like her heart is ripped once more and she wants to throw up.
“Who is she? Do you know her? Where
can we find her? We have to find her!”
Lexie is adamant as she’s gesturing to the police to come closer. They have a clue. Finally! She’s terrified for her son’s safety. If this woman is crazy enough to steal him, is she crazy enough to….she can’t even think the words without tears beginning to fall.
“Please tell me Bridget knows who she is,
or has a return address or something! How
long has this been going on?”
She doesn’t realize she’s gripping his arm so tightly her fingers are white.
It had been so long since he’s seen Lexie Grey naked. It’s been over years, and somehow it oddly doesn’t feel that way at all. His SON is sleeping in his own bedroom, while the mother of his child is naked. His own hues scan over her body, she’s pale. Just like before. Her body was different, a good kind of different. It’s the same, yet different at the same time. Fingers roam along her frame, her body was still wet from the shower.
The moment her back hits the bed, he’s pulling his grey shirt off his frame, tossing it to the floor, in a pile that will only continue to add. Her body bounces, and he’s in complete awe. How did he ever let her slip away? Without even trying to fight for her? Blue hues go dark, while he crawls onto the bed, hovering over her. Grinning lightly, he anchors his mouth onto her shoulder, moving towards her collar bone. Hands are running along her body yet again, the ache to touch her had been growing.
“You’re beautiful, Lexie Grey.”
He should’ve known. The moment he had gotten the call, he should’ve known that this was the outcome. A crazed fan. How could he have been so blind? So clueless? Having them so far away from him... He was an idiot. Through, and through. Mark’s glued to his cell phone, praying to god his assistant is working her magic to getting something out of this woman. Fingers wrap around her arms, gripping them lightly.
“She’s a fan, for awhile. Bridget had the
bright idea to write to her, get her off the
mailing list. She hadn’t sent anything in
lately, I should’ve known.”
The phone goes off, and they get an address. He tells the police, looking over at Lexie with pleading eyes. She has to forgive him.
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