Pursued by the Playboy Read Online Free PDF Page A

happen.”
    She gasped as he plunged deeper, faster, his back slick with sweat.  Then suddenly it swept through her, wave upon wave of pleasure so intense she shuddered, crying out, vaguely aware of his answering groan as he jerked one final time and stilled.
    Several moments passed before he rolled onto his back, bringing her with him.   Her head settled on his chest, and she listened with eyes closed to the gradual slowing of his heart.  She breathed deep, ruffling the hairs on his chest.  His lips brushed her forehead.  Gentle fingers combed lightly through the hair at the base of her neck.  She mumbled sleepily, too drained to move.
    A few minutes of rest, she thought.  Then she’d gather her things, get dressed, and head home.  This late at night she’d probably have to call a taxi.  The nearest Blue Line station—from which she’d walked earlier that evening—was seven blocks away, a distance she ordinarily wouldn’t have thought twice about walking, but not alone in the dark.  Not with this delicious lassitude still weighing down her limbs and clouding her senses.  It would make her too vulnerable a target on city streets.  The bus was nearer, but again the idea of waiting outside at the stop for who knew how long didn’t appeal. 
    She snuggled deeper beneath the covers Marc drew up over them.   One of these days she might have to break down and get a car, a move she’d resisted in the past because her world revolved around a few square blocks of university campus, which she felt perfectly comfortable navigating by foot.  The few excursions she took outside this narrow radius—the rare visit to her parents’ suburban home, the outings she went on with Jake—didn’t justify the expense and inconvenience of maintaining private transport in the city.  But she might have to rethink her position if her relationship with Marc continued.
    She blinked in the dark.  No, not relationship.   Definitely not.  She didn’t do relationships.  And neither did he, given his track record.   She swallowed and breathed deep, tamping down a rising sense of panic.  The musk of their lovemaking lingered in the air, tantalizing her nostrils. 
    Affair.  That’s what it was, what they’d agreed on.  Two consenting adults engaged in mutually satisfying sex.   No strings, no promises.  For all she knew, Marc could turn around tomorrow and offer to cook his pasta Carbonara for some other woman. 
    Her heart skipped a beat.  She was being foolish.  Lying here, still wrapped in Marc’s embrace, she had no reason to feel jealous of some hypothetical woman.  And it was silly to even consider changing her lifestyle to accommodate what was, after all, bound to be a self-limited liaison.
    She listened to Marc’s breathing deepen into a slow hypnotic rhythm.   Her hand rested on his chest, over the strong steady beat of his heart.   Careful not to disturb him, she eased away.  Cool air hit her sensitized skin and she fumbled for her clothing, scattered haphazardly on the floor beside the bed.  Her fingers brushed Marc’s belt, lying under her discarded dress, and she froze at the soft clink, eyes flying to the bed.  But Marc’s chest continued to rise and fall steadily in sleep. 
    Clothing in hand, she crept out of the bedroom.  She dressed quickly, used her cell phone to summon a taxi, and then hesitated.   Near the entrance stood a small table cluttered with the typical debris of emptied pockets—wallet, keys, coins, receipts, pens—along with a pile of unopened mail and assorted flyers advertising local businesses.  She flipped one of the flyers over and scribbled a few words on the back.  Then she tucked the note beneath Marc’s wallet and turned off the lights.
    Minutes later, she slipped into the taxi that drew up outside and headed back to the safety of her campus apartment.
     
     

Chapter 4
     
    Thanks for a lovely evening.
    No salutation or signature.  Marc wasn’t sure