Gone by Mallory Kane

Instead she bent and kissed him on the side of the head, near his ear.
    For some reason, her advances scared him. “Marcie?” he said, taking hold of her shoulders and studying her. “Are you all right?”
    “Of course I am. Why? Do you think I’m asleep?” She smiled at him. “I can guarantee I’m not.”
    “Then what is this?”
    “I thought you’d be happy to make love with me—” She paused. “I’m...sorry.”
    “Hey,” he said, tightening his arm around her. “I have always been happy to make love to you. I just don’t want you thinking you have to, or—”
    Marcie bent her head and kissed him on the mouth. When she was done, she looked down at him. “Did that feel like I had to?” she asked, a small smile playing around her mouth. “I want to feel good, Joe. I want to hold you and be held by you. I want what we used to have.”
    Joe pulled Marcie to him and turned them both so that he was above her, then he pressed kisses along her cheek and jaw and down the column of her neck. Then he kissed her mouth, delving deeply, kissing her like a lover, like the lovers they’d been and still were. He moaned deep in his throat when she pressed herself more tightly against him and wrapped her arms around him. Desire grew into arousal and blossomed between them as it always had, quickening their pulses and driving sad thoughts out of their heads.
    Marcie wanted Joe with a poignant, quiet desire that had built inside of her during the months they’d been apart. She had missed him so much. When he sank into her, he filled her the way she had longed for him to. It was like becoming whole. She exhaled in an exquisite sigh of desire, then soared quickly to a climax that seemed to go on forever. Finally drained, she collapsed against the bedclothes.
    Joe groaned and found his own release in one last long thrust. Then he lay carefully atop Marcie, his weight suspended on his elbows and knees. “Hey,” he whispered. “You okay?”
    To his relief, she nodded. “I’m good, Joe. Really good.” She yawned and stretched and he took the opportunity to kiss the soft underside of her chin.
    “Yes, you are,” he said. “In fact, I might go so far as to say you’re spectacular.”
    Then he heard a beautiful, welcome sound, one he hadn’t heard in a long time: Marcie chuckling.
    * * *
    T HE NEXT MORNING when Joe came downstairs, he heard Marcie in the kitchen and smelled the delicious scent of freshly made coffee. He figured she’d be pacing back and forth with her mug, sipping nervously, wondering when Howard was going to call. He knew exactly how she felt. He wasn’t prone to pacing, like she was, but he had woken up as nervous as a cat, wondering just exactly when the phone call would come, and what demands Howard would make.
    As he descended the last stair he saw a car pull up to the curb through the sidelight of the front door. He watched as a tall, lean man in a sport coat and slacks got out of the car and walked up to ring the doorbell. He didn’t recognize the man, but there seemed to be something familiar about him. Joe was pretty sure who he was, and if he were right, this morning house call was not going to be pleasant.
    He opened the door before the doorbell rang.
    “Hi,” the man said, holding out a badge in a leather case. “I’m NOPD Detective Ethan Delancey. You’re Joseph Powers?”
    “That’s right,” Joe said. He kept his voice even, but he couldn’t help glancing past the detective, wondering if Howard were smart enough or organized enough to have someone watching the house.
    Delancey’s eyes narrowed and Joe knew the detective had seen him checking the street for other cars.
    “I wonder if I could come in for a minute,” he said. “I’d like to ask you a couple of questions.”
    “About what?” Joe asked, carefully keeping his voice and his expression neutral. He didn’t know what Delancey wanted, but none of the possibilities he could think of were palatable to him. And none