“I love being inside you.” He nipped at her lower lip.
He pulled out again, slipping his fingers up and down her slit. When he pulled back and looked into her eyes, she saw a hard, undeniable passion.
“Green light?” he asked, giving her a chance to think.
She nodded, panting, writhing even while she anchored herself with her fists in his shirt. He returned to her center, and pushed inside again, this time all the way. He held there while she breathed, and accommodated to his size, positive now his cock would never fit. And then he rotated his wrist, and her whole body strained, every muscle tight.
She hadn’t even seen it coming, but now that it was here the feeling consumed her. She saw nothing, felt nothing but the fire raging through her veins. He kept stroking her there, setting off another explosion right on top of the first. Somehow she’d rolled onto her back. Her heels dug into the ground.
“There,” he said. “That’s good. Let it feel good.”
He withdrew, and filled her again and again, his strokes growing harder. She could hear the sounds of his hand against her own wet skin. Her whole belly clenched, the bolts streaking across her pelvis. She grabbed at her breasts, squeezing them to release the pressure there.
It went on and on, silencing every thought, leaving nothing but Mike—his taste in her mouth, his gaze on her body, his hand inside her. And as the breath tumbled back into her lungs, he slowed, and brought her down gently.
“What...what are you doing to me?”
“Learning how to touch you,” he said roughly. “Your body.” He leaned over her. “It’s perfect. It’s showing me what to do.”
His finger was still inside her. He moved it just slightly, brushing that deep place, and she felt like the floor had been ripped out from beneath her.
“Do you...” she inhaled. “Do you have a condom?”
He shook his head, and slowly pulled out. When he pushed back in, he’d added another finger, and she huffed out a breath. She was so full, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Her hips lifted, trying to take more.
“You should...” She blinked. This was important. Thinking. Thinking was important. “You’ve been safe?”
His eye twitched.
“Do you not want me to wear a condom?”
She tried to focus again.
“You didn’t bring them in from your car?” Was he not planning on using one? Safe or not, the thought of his skin on hers nearly made her come again.
“One step at a time, remember?”
She blinked. “I’m clean,” she said, wondering if this was why he was holding back. “I went to the doctor after my divorce.”
“And I went right after you moved in.”
He was rubbing that place again. She arched, her chest bumping his.
“You want to have sex, right?”
“We’re having sex right now, Hummingbird.”
“Semantics,” she muttered.
“Words don’t matter,” he agreed. “We’re making each other feel good. There’s no endgame.”
He twisted his hand and she cried out, throwing her head back against the carpet. The couch was just beyond them, and around the corner the stairs. She had to be quiet. Before she lost her mind completely, she reached for his pants, unbuttoning the top of his fly and pulling down the zipper.
“Then let me make you feel good.”
He rested his forehead on hers, eyes drifting closed.
“You are,” he said. “Touching you makes me feel good.”
The truth was right there in the harsh tone of his voice and the tight expression on his face. He stroked her leisurely, keeping the fire stoked, but at any moment he could have pushed her over the brink again. She let him hold that power over her, and trusted he wouldn’t use it to hurt.
“No expectations,” she murmured, letting herself accept this truth, too.
Trembling, she slid her hand beneath his shirt, feeling the hard ridges of his abs, and then lower, beneath the waistband of his boxers. The second her fingers grazed along his hard, velvety skin, he froze. She looked up at him, and he kissed her, as if encouraging her to do whatever she wanted.
She wrapped her hand around him, and swallowed. He was long, but not too long, and thick enough her small fingers could barely circle around his girth.
“Oh wow,” she said. “You’re sort of perfect.”
“Go on...” he prompted. She should have laughed, but he moved his hand again, pulling from her body to stroke her again. The sensation was so acute she could barely breathe. He twisted his wrist in a way that made his fingers feather against her opening. Every muscle clenched.
Anxiety laced over her pleasure. He wasn’t monstrous, but he was certainly above average. She prepared herself for what it might feel like for him to fit inside of her.
“I’m not...”
“Afraid,” he finished, whispering into her ear. “You’re not afraid of any part of me. Because I’m not going to hurt you.”
Her ribs seemed to squeeze her heart, and the sudden tension made it hard to breathe.
He kissed her again, while she felt his smooth, hard shaft. The soft ridge of his head, the rise of the vein that stretched to the base. Her fingertips circled him, and teased him, just as his felt her secret places. Minutes lost their meaning. Quiet gasps and staggered breaths filled the dimly-lit room. Her heart throbbed in her chest. She’d never known it could be like this. Warm, and gentle, and perfect. With no race to the finish. No expectations.
She felt beautiful. There. In that place she’d thought had betrayed her and made her less of a woman. When Mike touched her, she couldn’t have been more woman. She felt like fine silk.
Her fingers reached lower, to the smooth skin around his balls that tightened beneath her touch. She cupped them, learning with each movement of her fingers where he liked to be touched. Her hand dove deeper, as far as she could given his jeans. Giving into the need, she felt the tops of his thighs, and pushed around his hip to his ass to slide her hand over the muscular rise.
His body was like no other man’s. Built like a machine, hard and strong, and oozing sexuality, but somehow soft, and gentle, and safe. This body was made to give a woman pleasure, not hurt her.
She shifted, so that both hands fit down the front of his pants. She touched him here because she wanted to, and because the pleasure it gave him transferred straight to her. It was liberating, and intoxicating, and as she stroked him faster it took her higher, and made her hotter.
He matched her movements, grinding the heel of his hand against her clit as he fingered her. And when she felt herself getting close, she whispered his name, and he told her she felt so good, and they dove over the cliff together, eyes open until the very last moment.
***
After he cleaned up, they laid together on the couch, kissing and touching, and living inside the bubble they’d created.
“What happened at work?” he asked, rolling on his side and propping his head on his fist. “Something was bothering you when you came home.”
She sighed, thinking of Val and her daughter, and hoping that she’d done the right thing by encouraging her to file assault charges. Her mind shifted to the money problems, and her lingering worries about seeing her ex. She wanted to tell him about it, all of it, because maybe he’d understand. Maybe it would make her feel better not to face all of it alone.
But when she opened her mouth, she repeated the word, “Home.”
“That’s right,” he said. “A place where people live together, like a house, or an apartment.”
“I have an apartment,” she said, unable to stop her finger from tracing his perfect lips. He caught it in his mouth, and bit the pad gently, eliciting her sharp intake of breath.
“You don’t have to have an apartment.” His eyes changed, just enough to offer a glimpse of vulnerability. It was enough to make her pulse stagger.
“You mean, move in with you.” Her brows furrowed together, and he leaned down to k
iss the line between them.
“You’ve already moved in,” he said. “You just need to let it go.”
Letting it go wasn’t as easy as it sounded. If things didn’t work out, she and Paisley would have to start from scratch again, just like after Danny had left.
It wasn’t just that she needed a backup plan. Moving in was a lot more permanent than their prolonged slumber party. It was a big deal. A big risk. She wasn’t sure she was ready to take that leap yet.
“Something was bothering you after work,” Mike prompted again, giving her an out.
Amy was grateful for the change in subject.
“One of my clients is in a bad place. She needed some help.”
He nodded, seeming to know this help required more than a makeover. “Lucky for her she has you.”
Amy wasn’t so sure about that. Val’s life was upside down right now, and Amy hadn’t exactly helped her right it. Safety had a price, and could be fragile. Her client’s future could go many different ways. Val could start a new life tomorrow, or go back home. Her husband could find them and break the restraining order.
She couldn’t think about that.
“Lucky for you, you have me,” she said.
He hummed his agreement. His hand on her rib rose, his fingers grazing the bottom of her breast. Her breath caught, but he went no further.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked.
“Limits,” he said.
“Like speed limits?” she asked.
“Exactly,” he said, leaning down to kiss her. “How fast is too fast?”
His eyes were sincere, and she was lost for a moment in the way he looked at her. Her body was warming, or maybe she’d never cooled off from before. Either way, she wanted him again.
She never stopped wanting him.
“I suppose you just have to follow the signs,” she said. A small sound slipped from her throat as his fingers circled her breast, making the peaks hard and her back arch toward him.
“And am I?” he asked.
She sensed there was more to this question, but he didn’t ask it.
“Yes,” she said.
His hand pulled away, and the breath whooshed from her lungs.
“Come on.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I’ll walk you home.”
She laughed softly, unsure what he meant until he stood, and reached for her hands. Leading the way, he walked up the stairs, his hand never leaving hers until they reached the doorway to his room.
She smiled, but as she stepped through the threshold she felt a wave of insecurity. It eased when he was close, and she imagined him lying beside her in bed, his body curling around hers.
“Don’t ask me to stay,” he said.
“I wasn’t.” She was, and he knew it.
He smiled. “If you do, I’ll say yes, and we’ll have to answer a lot of big questions in the morning.”
With a sigh, she looked over his shoulder down the hall, to where the door of the girls’ room was still shut. As much as she wanted to tell him it didn’t matter—he could leave before dawn, or she would figure out some excuse if someone came in in the middle of the night—he was right.
He lingered, hands on either side of the doorframe, leaning in. He didn’t want to go either, and for a moment, she considered what it would be like if he didn’t. If she lived here, with him. If they went to bed together every night. If they were really a family.
“Thanks for tonight,” he said finally. He reached for her hand and kissed her knuckles, and her heart fluttered as he turned away. “Sleep well. I think we both know I won’t.”
She could hear him chuckling ruefully all the way to the bottom of the steps.
Chapter Seventeen
Two mornings a week Amy went in to the salon early to help Derrick with admin. It had started with coordinating schedules, then last Christmas he’d added paying bills and reordering supplies to her duties. She didn’t mind the work; in fact she enjoyed the challenge and change in pace from styling. Plus, it came with perks like a bump in pay, and being one of the lucky four early enough to snag a parking spot in the tiny lot behind the building.
She was still singing to the radio as she pulled in beside a boxy silver Kia Soul, a car that would forever remind her of hamsters thanks to a clever commercial campaign a few years ago. Derrick’s car was impeccably clean, marked only by a bumper sticker on the back window that said Honk If You Like Boys! Wishing she had the biggest horn in the world to declare her recent relationship status, she strutted to the employee entrance, a metal door on the brick and ivy wall, and fitted the key into the lock.
It had been two weeks since she and Mike had made out on the living room floor. Since then, the heat had only risen between them. They’d stolen kisses in dark hallways and closets. They’d made out in his truck during her lunch breaks. Once, after the girls had gone to sleep, they’d torn each other’s clothes off in the basement, but frenzied touches, and the slick feel of their bodies sliding against each other had been as far as it had gone. He worked her up to the precipice, until she was crazed and demanding, but never gave her that last piece of himself. As frustrating as it was, it was empowering, too. It was as if they were building toward something, and with every heated moment they shared, she was getting closer, and more confident that she could take it.
More confident, too, that the past was again behind her. She hadn’t heard from Danny since the day he’d shown up, and there’d been no new strange activity on her account. The bank had yet to solve the mystery of the missing cash, but they assured her they were still working on it.
The music that usually came in through the speakers hadn’t been turned on yet, making it easy to locate Rave’s owner, Derrick Mitchell. A clatter of bottles and a sharp curse came from the salon side, and she didn’t even set down her purse before rushing down the hallway and around the waiting room corner to the brightly lit room lined with washbasins on one side and mirrors and black leather salon chairs on the other.
She found Derrick sitting on the floor surrounded by slender black bottles, the cabinet beside him open. But it wasn’t the mess that pushed her to high alert. It was that Derrick, who was always dressed to kill, was wearing boring, non-embellished jeans, and a worn hooded sweatshirt.
“What’s wrong?” Amy said, crouching beside her friend. Rave Salon was high end even though it swung a little on the funky side, and though most of the stylists here had been working in the business for years, Derrick had taken her on right out of beauty school. It was a vote of confidence she had never taken lightly.
“They sent me the wrong shit,” he snapped. “I ordered texturizing gel, not de-tangler. The goddamn bottles don’t even look the same. Now I’ve got to magically find an extra hour today to send them back, and hope that no one notices that half the products on the shelf are past expiration.”
“Disaster,” said Amy sarcastically. Derrick only ordered natural beauty products, which meant most of them were only guaranteed by the company for a certain amount of time. That didn’t mean they went bad though; they weren’t milk or cheese. She made a quick note to ask later if she could take them off his hands.
“Don’t minimize my meltdown,” said Derrick, shaking a bottle at her. Though his jaw was smooth, his face was completely void of makeup, pushing her concern to the next level.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She dropped her purse and sat beside him. She was wearing a skirt and sexy black suspenders over a teal fitted T-shirt. Her legs stretched out before her, pale above her knee-high boots and in desperate need of some sassy tights. She should have thought of that before running out the door this morning. At least she’d remembered her naughty black panties and bra. She could feel the soft fabric against her most intimate places every time she moved.
“I didn’t even notice until I restocked half the order,” he said, pulling his knees up to his chest.
“I’ll help you fix it,” said Amy. “First tell me what’s wrong.”
&n
bsp; He sighed.
“That sounds like guy trouble.”
He sighed again.
“I thought you and Marcos were doing well.”
The sigh turned more dramatic.
“He’s pregnant? Well, I never saw that coming.”
Derrick snorted.
“Did I misinterpret that last one?” she asked with a smirk.
“He’s only got one foot out of the closet,” said Derrick.
Amy leaned closer, so that their arms rested against each other. She hoped he could feel her support through that small touch.
“He’s a cop,” said Amy. “Anna says it’s hard to be out on the police force.” Anna’s father was a retired detective and she’d spent the latter half of her childhood surrounded by them.
“I’m not asking him to give me a blowjob at the company picnic.”
“Well that’s a relief,” said Amy. “I think you can get arrested for that kind of thing.”
“We saw some of his cop friends last night,” Derrick said. “He only lets us go to certain places. Cop-free zones. Well, they found us. And he introduced me as his brother, and then played pool for an hour with them while I flirted in vain with a very straight bartender.”
Amy grimaced, picturing Marcos with his olive skin and dark hair. “You don’t look like his brother.”
“Yeah, no shit.” Derrick rubbed his hands over his blush-free cheeks. “I’m trying to be patient.”
“You’re not very patient.”
Derrick glared at her, then tilted his head back against the cabinet.
“I’m not very patient.”
“He obviously loves you,” said Amy. She’d seen the way Marcos looked at him, all misty-eyed and tongue-tied. He may have been tough enough to be Anna’s bodyguard, but when it came to Derrick, the guy was one love-struck puppy.
“Not more than he loves his job,” argued Derrick. “Or his stupid pride.”
“I thought you liked the whole cop thing.” Derrick had told her this on more than one of their mornings alone. She believed he’d called it “Capitol H. O. T.”
More: A Body Work Novel (The Body Work Trilogy Book 4) Page 15