Thirty-Nine
Dara wrapped Marcus' terry cloth robe more firmly about her and stepped out of the bathroom. She did not have to worry about the robe covering her. The difference in their respective sizes had Marcus' robe nearly sweeping the floor.
She was not surprised to find the bedroom empty. Dara spied a pile of neatly folded clothes in the center of the bed. 'I had someone grab a few things from your place. Marcus', the note on top simply said.
The impersonal little message made Dara smile wryly. She and Marcus had said all that would ever be said about what went on between them.
Marcus tenderly rubbed Dara's back. His large hand felt pleasantly warm against skin covered with a thin sheen of perspiration.
“Tell me what you are thinking,” Dara demanded softly. Her leg rested wearily atop Marcus' thigh.
“I don't think I can.” Marcus paused. “I am still trying to figure this out myself.”
Dara rested her chin atop his chest. “It really isn't all that complicated. We were two people sharing a little comfort. Nothing more, nothing less.”
With his fingertips Marcus traced a path down Dara's spine. “We always got this part right, didn't we?” Reverently, he cupped the shapely globes of Dara's rear.
“Yes,” she nodded, allowing Marcus to roll her over onto her back. Dara parted her thighs as the welcome weight of his body anchored her to the mattress. “It was-” the lawyer's breath caught as Marcus once more began to stretch and fill her, “…everything else,” she panted softly, “that we couldn't seem to manage.”
