by Rue Allyn
Cat stood staring at him. He didn’t have to ask to know what she was thinking. Fear and uncertainty shimmered in her searching eyes. She was afraid to be seen with him lest they end up in the paper, triggering more repercussions to be heaped on her. The whole notion left a bad taste in his mouth.
He shook his head as he caught and held her gaze, imploring her. “I’m not taking no for an answer. I’m not going to sit around and wait until something worse happens. The only way I can really be sure of that is if you’re with me at all times.”
Michael held his breath. He didn’t want to push her, didn’t want to force himself into her life, but this was one area he wasn’t willing to budge on. She was being threatened, and he was the cause. It killed him to think it could be Cat lying in that hospital bed. It brought up things he didn’t want to remember anymore but that stared him in the face all the same. Namely that he cared about her. More than he wanted to. In the short time he’d known her, she’d gotten under his skin, and he liked her there. She’d become important to him. The thought of losing someone else he cared about ripped open an old wound inside him.
Finally, she nodded, and the knot in his chest eased. “I think I’d feel better, too.”
Chapter Seven
They arrived at Michael’s house an hour later. Cat stopped just inside the doorway. Moonlight streaming in through the windows gently illuminated the darkened space. Memories flooded her mind. She’d lost count how many times she made love to this man within these walls.
Now, as she stood on the small rug in the foyer, she became acutely aware of the man as he stepped in beside her. He closed the door behind him, set her small suitcase to the side, and flipped a light switch. Neither said anything for a long moment. Tension—fine and sweet and aching—rose between them. Pulled by the power of his presence, she glanced over at him. He watched her with those liquid eyes, soft and concerned yet filled with a palpable hunger that made her shiver with the power of his gaze.
“You can have the bed upstairs.” His expression remained blank and hard to read. “I’ll take the couch.”
She turned her head, eyeing the black, overstuffed leather couch he indicated. The safest alternative at the moment. “I hate to take your bed. The couch doesn’t look very comfortable.”
“You suggesting we share the bed?” The distinct hint of teasing in his voice made her turn to look to at him. Mischief gleamed in his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching as he held back a grin.
Perhaps it was his attempt at lightening the tense moment—and his bad boy side for sure—but the thought sent a sweet ache rolling through her belly. Those eyes told her she wasn’t the only one affected by her presence in his house. They dared her to step forward, to press herself against him and seize his mouth. She had to admit this protective streak of his made him incredibly sexy.
After a moment, an uneasy grin quirked up one side of his mouth and he hitched a shoulder. “Sorry. My lousy attempt to break the ice. You look as nervous as I feel.”
She twisted her hands together. “You’re right, you know.”
“About what?”
She caught his gaze. “I do feel safer with you. That’s what scares me about you. How easy it is to be with you.”
Heat flared in the dark pools, an undisguised hunger that flooded desire through every inch of her. The need to hold and be held, to return to that night, making love wherever and whenever the mood struck. Free to give in to their bodies’ desires. Nick had been her first love, but she couldn’t recall ever wanting him the way she wanted Michael. It was a hunger she couldn’t seem to slake.
She gave a miserable shake of her head. “You said it yourself, Michael. Eventually you’re leaving Crest Point, and I don’t do flings.”
Short-lived affairs weren’t her style. They were her mother’s, and she was not her mother.
He took a step toward her, settled his hands on her hips, and tugged her against him. Everything inside her sighed with relief.
“I wish I could say I don’t either, but it’s all I’ve got. The truth is, I haven’t had a real relationship in years. I don’t even know if I know how anymore. I just want to spend whatever time I have left in Crest Point with you. You give me this peace I haven’t had since Kaylee died. Despite all the crap that’s happening to you and your family, you’re still here with me. Frankly, I’m amazed by that.”
She laid a hand against his chest. “None of this is your fault.”
He smiled and stroked his fingers over her cheek. “I know, but I hadn’t expected to find acceptance here. Obviously there are people here that still hold a grudge. Hell, even my father hasn’t quite forgotten or forgiven yet. To find someone on my side for a change is kind of nice. I’d like to revel in it while I’m here.”
Confusion caught her in the chest. Did he know the effect he had on her? How easily it would be to fall into him? Into this? She yearned to. Everything inside her screamed for it. She couldn’t remember one damn good reason why she shouldn’t fling herself into his arms and beg him to make love to her. Fall into everything he offered and enjoy him while she had him.
He released her and stepped back, bent to pick up her suitcase, then turned and moved toward the stairs. When he reached the bottom step, he paused and looked back at her. “I meant what I said that first night, Cat. Sometimes you have to be willing to jump into the deep end. If you don’t, you’re not really living. Don’t think about it. Feel. Do something just for you, simply because you want it.”
He disappeared around the bend in the L-shaped staircase, leaving her staring at his retreating back. He wasn’t pushing but merely setting the offer on the table. The question was, could she reach out and take it?
• • •
Hours later, Cat lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling. The rest of the evening had been awkward. They sat on the small deck out back, watched the moon and stars shimmer along the surface of the water and listened as the waves slowly rolled into shore. It ought to have been relaxing, except the air between them filled with a fine, sweet tension. Any small talk they attempted was painful. She hadn’t been able to concentrate much past how desperately she wanted to insinuate herself into his arms. Michael seemed to suffer from the same affliction. Every time their eyes met, his filled with hunger.
Finally she feigned fatigue, said good night and went to bed, but she’d laid here for an hour now, unable to sleep. The bed seemed to have Michael’s scent embedded in it, and she couldn’t get her mind to shut off. Here she was, back where she’d been, still suffocating herself because she was afraid to live. She was letting her fear of becoming like her mother rule her life again while downstairs laid the man who set her free. Afraid to love for fear every man would end up like Nick.
Michael offered her something simple—himself—but he did it with his whole heart. All she had to do was reach out and take it. What on earth am I doing up here? Alone?
God, could she do that? Allow herself to get lost in the here and now, in the man? She’d be taking her one night and extending it. Allowing herself the luxury of indulging in her body’s desires with a man who made her feel safe, who set her free with a simple touch. Deep inside beat a thought that refused to let go—if she didn’t take this chance, she’d regret it for the rest of her life.
Her heart hammering like pistons, she threw the sheet back and got out of bed, padding downstairs in a nightshirt and panties. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs, her pulse skittering. Michael lay on his side on the couch, now pulled out into a bed. The soft moonlight bathed his bare chest and a white sheet slung low over his hips. Though the darkness made it impossible to see his eyes, she knew he watched her. She felt his eyes sliding over her. Every inch of her tingled in giddy anticipation of his touch.
“You’re right. I’m coming at this from a standpoint of fear. I’m afraid of what people will think. I’ve lived my whole life by these rules. My mother’s reputation followed us everywhere, and I taught myself to blend in with
the shadows. If people couldn’t see me, they didn’t talk. Now this whole . . . fiasco, it brought it all up again. It’s instinct to want to run and hide.” Her hands trembled with nervousness. She lowered her voice with the ultra-vulnerable sensation that slid through her. If she was going to be honest, she might as well go all in. “I’m also afraid of falling in love with you.”
“Me, too.”
The soft intensity of his voice thrilled her. She still couldn’t see his eyes, but once again, the pull of his gaze held her bound.
“I haven’t allowed myself to love anybody since Kaylee died. If you ask me, I don’t deserve it. Frankly, sweetheart, you scare the hell out of me. I don’t know where this is going. Or if it’s going anywhere. All I know is I like how I feel when I’m with you. I’m done trying to resist you.” Michael pulled back the sheet in silent invitation. “Take a walk on the wild side, Cat.”
Without a word, she crossed the room and slid in beside him, pressed her body to his and claimed his lips. As the sheet floated over them, he rolled her onto her back, tucking her beneath him and settling between her thighs. His arousal throbbed against her core through the layers of clothing separating them, and she arched against him, sliding her hands down his back and into his boxers. The rightness of the moment flooded her every cell. Her soul flew, and she let it go, allowed herself to take pleasure in him.
He groaned low in her ear as his mouth left hers, trailing torturously slow along her jaw and down her neck, leaving her trembling beneath him. “God, you drive me crazy, Cat.”
“Michael . . . ” His name rolled off her tongue on a needy moan, all the coherence she was capable of. She needed to make him understand, to express everything in her heart, but the words simply wouldn’t come. She clutched his back, trying to show him this emotion that went beyond something she could understand.
“I know, baby. I know.” He whispered the words against her skin, his voice a gravelly murmur filled with as much need as she felt, as he feathered kisses across her shoulder. He moved slowly down her body, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. His warm, velvet lips skimmed down her neck and between her breasts. He stopped for a moment to rake his teeth over each nipple through her nightshirt before moving down her stomach.
He kissed the skin below her belly button as his hands pushed her nightshirt up her body. She yanked it off over her head and his hands continued down, reaching for the waistband of her panties. He kissed his way down her legs, removing them, his teeth occasionally grazing her skin, ending with a final nip to her instep before he pulled her panties off and tossed them to the floor.
He left the bed long enough to rid himself of his underwear, then bent to pull a small square packet out of his jeans pocket. He stood over her, those eyes blazing back at her, making wicked promises, and sheathed himself. Just when she was sure she couldn’t stand the sweet tension any longer, he returned to her and covered her body with his.
“I’ll go slower next time, I promise.” He nibbled at her bottom lip, slipped his hands beneath her, and cupped the backs of her shoulders as he arched against her, burying himself to the hilt within her. “I need you too much.”
She gasped, a mixture of pleasure and relief rocketing through her. Her fingers curled into his skin and she arched against him, met him thrust for desperate thrust. She knew that need, the sweet, primal desire to join, to be as close as humanly possible, and then, wanting closer still. Her body shook with it, her need for him so fierce it frightened her.
He caught her mouth for a tender kiss. She clutched his back, locked her legs around his hips to hold him there, lifting to meet him. Their bodies surged together to the fiery rhythm, their hands clutching each other tightly, until they simply melded together as one. He took her soaring, lifted her to that fine, sweet edge so quickly all the breath left her lungs. Every time with him surprised her, how intensely her body responded to his. It had never been that way with Nick. As she toppled over the edge, a groan rumbled out of him, and he lifted his head and caught and held her gaze. An intimate connection, as if he’d climbed right into her skin and their souls mingled. Heaven help her, she never wanted this moment to end.
They crested together, his body shaking with hers, his heart, his pleasure, in his eyes. It left her feeling open and vulnerable. Yet the sensations only lifted her higher, shattering her amongst the heavens in a million white hot fragments, safe in the realization he was right there with her, free-floating together in bliss.
When their breathing finally returned to normal, he brushed a lingering kiss across her mouth then shifted off her.
“I’ll be right back.” He kissed her again and crawled out of bed.
Cat turned to watch him walk away, enjoying the rear view, the way the muscles in his behind flexed as he walked, while he made his way upstairs to the bathroom. He returned several minutes later and rejoined her, curling against her back, his embrace tight and possessive. She closed her eyes and fell asleep encompassed in his warmth, in the absolute rightness of lying in his arms.
• • •
Cat woke the next morning to bright sunlight piercing her closed eyelids, the smell of eggs frying, and freshly brewed coffee and toast teasing her senses. She glanced at the space beside her. Michael’s side was empty, but the telltale sounds coming from the kitchen told her where he’d gotten to.
Mixed emotions tumbled through her as she stared at the indentation his head left on the pillow. She couldn’t be sure if she was more disappointed at finding him gone and not having the pleasure of waking in his arms, or glad for the bit of reprieve the time away from him gave her.
Falling asleep in his embrace last night had been far too intimate, had filled with her an emotion she didn’t know what to do with. A man she’d known mere weeks didn’t feel like a stranger anymore but someone she’d known almost forever. Falling asleep that way felt as natural as breathing.
With a sigh, she pulled herself out of bed, forcing herself to face the day. Finding her discarded nightshirt and panties on the floor, she pulled them on before following the smells into the kitchen. Michael stood in front of the stove, wearing nothing but a faded pair of jeans, his upper body deliciously bare. He drew a spatula through the eggs sizzling in the pan.
It felt odd to see him there, looking so domestic. She’d seen it before, the morning after, but the sight still awed her. It went against the whole bad boy image she had of him, yet provided another intriguing facet of him. Another piece of the man behind the mask revealed.
“Morning.” He sprinkled one side of the eggs with a mixture of cheese and diced peppers, then flipped the omelet closed and darted a glance back at her. Tenderness shone in his eyes. A sense of intimacy flowed in the space between them that drew her farther into the small space.
She stopped beside him, peering around his shoulder at the dish in the pan. It wasn’t the food that made her hungry. She fisted her hands, squelching the near overwhelming desire to press herself against his back and wrap her arms around him. She felt . . . awkward, a bit out of place. She’d never had a fling before. As silly as it seemed, she had no idea if she could do that, press herself against his back and take what she wanted.
He lifted the small skillet with one hand and slipped the finished omelet onto a small white plate beside the stove. “You hungry?”
She nodded, offering him a smile. “Starving, actually.”
“Me, too. I’m not a breakfast person, but I somehow managed to work up an appetite this morning.” He winked at her, sending her stomach flip-flopping, and yet managed to set her at ease at the same time. He tucked a piece of toast onto each of the two plates before picking them up and handing them to her. “You take these. I’ll bring the coffee. How do you take yours?”
“Cream, please.” She carried the two plates into the attached dining room and set them onto the table.
Michael joined her moments later, two cups hooked in one hand, forks in the other. He set one mug and one fork in front of her before seat
ing himself beside her at the small, round table. As with the rest of the house, the dining room was small and quaint, containing only the one table and four chairs. The windows lining the walls let in the morning sun, filling the room with its bright golden gleam. The glow it offered the room matched how she felt, sitting there with Michael—bright, blissful, and relaxed.
She took a bite of her eggs and sighed softly as the flavors melted on her tongue. The peppers were sautéed, the cheese melty and gooey, the eggs perfectly done. He wasn’t a novice in the kitchen by any stretch of the imagination.
“My compliments to the chef. Did your mother teach you to cook?”
He nodded, swallowed the bite in his mouth, then took a sip of his coffee. “Mom insisted Gabe and I learn how to take care of ourselves.”
“You cook very well.” She glanced at him as she forked another bite. “I have to admit I’m surprised.”
“The whole dark and dangerous thing?” He quirked an amused brow, the corners of his mouth twitching.
The man had a way of turning her insides to mush. “Something like that.”
Silence fell between them, his smile melting from his face. Intimacy filled the space between them, quiet and simple, yet profound. The scene was domestic and comfortable, like they’d done it every morning for years.
Their entire relationship had shifted, and she didn’t know what to do with it. She didn’t even know if she wanted to do something with it. She only knew he drew her into his world, a place she suddenly longed to be a part of.
He took another sip of his coffee before glancing at her. “I thought I’d give you a ride to the shop this morning, if that’s all right.”
Cat smiled, recalling his words the night before, that he intended to be her new shadow, and arched a brow. “Do I have a choice?”