by Bryn Donovan
A tight bud of hope unfolded in her. “I was wondering about that.”
“I never thought about it before,” he said. “And at first I was thinking…that I had every right to think my thoughts. But I’ve controlled other feelings. Like being scared before my first big fight, before my first mission. And you taught Cassie how to not get angry. So I mean, I’ll try. I’ll do my best, and it’ll never go away completely, but I think it’ll get better.”
Her heart ached with gratitude. Maybe this could work. “I know it’s hard dating an empath—”
“I never should’ve said that.” Regret flashed in his eyes. “I was so scared of screwing things up, and Jonathan and Nic thought I would too…so the first time something went wrong, I got defensive.”
She reached over and took his hand. “You’re not going to screw things up. I’ve known you my whole life. You’re a good man.”
Amusement touched his features. “I am, right?” Then he got serious again. “I’ll try to rein in my feelings, but you have to do it too.”
What? “I don’t even have those feelings for anyone else.” It was one of the reasons why it was so hard for her to deal with his.
“That’s not what I meant,” he said. “If you do pick up on me feeling something like…you know…but I’m trying to control it, you’re going to have to try to not get upset. You have to remember how I feel about you.”
Really? She had to just accept it?
But that wasn’t exactly what he’d said. He was going to manage his feelings the best he could, but he expected her to do the same.
“Your mom taught you how to control your anger,” he continued. “You even taught Cassie how. You can get a little less upset when this happens.”
She wasn’t sure she liked this. But he was right. “Maybe I can try,” she allowed.
He looked uncertain. “Maybe?” His hope and worry showed plainly in his eyes.
Her heart softened. He’d been so good to her. All she had to do was remember that. He was patient, he made her laugh, and he made her feel beautiful. Without even blinking, he’d agreed to protect her with his own life, and he was opening up a whole new world for her of sensual bliss. “Definitely,” she said, and then she realized something. “If I can tell that you’re trying to control it, that’s going to make all the difference in the world.” Her heart lifted. “I think this’ll work.”
He smiled. “Of course it will. We’re amazing together.”
Threads of hope and love shone between them, more precious because they were fragile.
“I wish we hadn’t fought,” she said.
“Everyone fights sometimes.”
“I know.” She sighed. “But I still feel so sad about it.”
Michael pulled off his shirt, tossed it aside, and hopped into the water—to cool off, she supposed. They were in the shallow end, so the water only came up to the middle of his powerful bare chest. Her legs still dangled in the water, and he stepped between them, resting his large palms on her thighs. “Aren’t you hot in that robe?” He looked so irresistible, the turquoise water around him swaying and slicing the light of the moon and the lanterns, over and over again.
“Not really.” But the way he gazed at her made her change her mind, and she smiled. “A little.” She slid it off her shoulders and let it fall to the flagstones behind her, so she was only wearing her short slip nightgown of creamy white silk. She wasn’t wearing anything beneath.
Leaning forward, he wrapped his arms around the small of her back and hauled her into the water. It splashed up onto her chest, and she squealed, reflexively wrapping her legs around his torso and grabbing his shoulders. It would’ve been a shock if the pool hadn’t been heated—and if at least part of her hadn’t already suspected he was going to do it.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m washing the fight off of us.” He lowered both of them down so her chin touched the water, making her squeak again and cling to him more tightly. He straightened. Her slip clung to her body.
“Is it that easy?” she wondered aloud.
“Maybe it is if we both think it is.” That was one of the things she’d always loved about him—his ability, and even his determination, to enjoy the present moment.
He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, like a boy. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” His tone was deliciously flirty. It really was hard to remember any troubles, with Michael talking to her like that.
“What?”
“What does your psyche look like?”
“Um…” She’d thought he was going to ask about something sexual, and it took her a moment to shift focus.
“My brother knows and I don’t.” He looked sulky. “You know that’s not right.”
“You should ask him,” she said, the idea coming to her for the first time. “He can show you in his memories.”
His eyes widened. “You wouldn’t mind?”
“Why would I?”
“Wow, maybe I will. I mean, it’ll be weird.”
“When has that ever stopped you?” she teased.
He laughed. “Tell me about it now.” He planted a quick kiss on her lips, punctuating the request.
Shyness overtook her. It was one thing to see a soulscape, and another to put it into words. But after unfairly demanding to go into his psyche, she could hardly deny him. “It’s, um…it’s a cave.”
“Really? A dark cave?” He was still curious, supportive, rather than wary.
“No, it’s a sea cave. The sunlight comes in.”
He shifted, adjusting his hold on her. “Tell me more.” His gaze held her, hungry for details.
“The walls and floor of the cave…there are all kinds of crystals.”
“Like stalagmites?” he asked. The way he intently listened to her, envisioning her words, was a gift.
“No, they’re faceted crystals. Purple amethyst, golden citrine…all different kinds of colors, raspberry, aqua, some of them are iridescent…and the light sparkles on them, and the shallow water at the bottom swirls around them. And past the cave opening, it’s the most endless, calm blue sea.”
Michael was staring at her, mouth parted. She ducked her head against his shoulder, and he laughed at her bashfulness. He raised her chin with his hand to meet his gaze again. “That sounds like the most beautiful thing ever.”
Happiness bloomed through her. But maybe she’d described it in too lofty of terms. “Well, I don’t know if I—”
“Mine’s boring compared to yours,” he complained. “Can I change it?”
“It’s not boring.” Realization struck her. “You’re thinking of the last time. Without your memories, the streets were empty.”
He nodded. “You’re right. I was. Usually, there are people everywhere.”
“It’s like a big party. There were fireworks one time.” She smiled. “It’s so perfect for you.”
“You’ll have to show me again soon.”
His words smoothed over their argument, and he spoke of their future so confidently. “I’m scared,” she confessed.
His expression became more serious. “About us?”
She shook her head. Now that they’d reconciled, she trusted him more than ever. “About tomorrow.”
“Of course you are.” He stroked a wet curl of hair away from her cheek, an exquisitely gentle touch. “It’s dangerous.”
She nodded. “And I’m scared I’ll disappoint you,” she added softly.
“What? No, no.” He pressed his cheek to hers, landed a kiss near her ear. “I’m already proud of you. Everyone is.” He pulled back to meet her eyes. “And I’m going to keep you safe, alprimus.”
She shuddered. “Don’t say that word.” It made her fear for him.
“Okay. But I’ll keep you safe. You know that, right?” His lip curved up in a half smile. “You’re in good hands.”
“I like your hands,” she murmured.
His gaze traveled down her body. “Is that so?” He lean
ed her up against the wall of the pool, her legs still wrapped around him. He was already hard against her. Her slip floated around her waist, and the fabric of his shorts was the only thing between them. He shifted so one of his hands firmly supported her, leaving his other hand free. His support, coupled with the buoyant water, gave her a feeling of weightlessness.
In no hurry, he traced her bottom lip with his thumb. She caught it in her mouth and sucked on it, watching him for his reaction.
To her immense satisfaction, his gaze heated with sensual approval. His erection jutted even more emphatically against her. Their shared desire rippled through her consciousness.
As he kissed her, a deep, delicious kiss, he brushed the backs of his fingers across her décolletage. She squirmed. With each of their movements, the water undulated around them, lapping against the pool’s edge. He tugged the wet silk away from her skin to slip his hand beneath it and cup the weight of one of her bare breasts, massaging his thumb across the hard tip.
When she turned her head to take a breath, he moved with her, not releasing her mouth. She knew if she’d resisted, pushed against him, he would’ve drawn back at once, but his insistence was too tender and too rooted in longing for her to object. He kept kissing her until everything in her awareness gave way to pure sensation: the heavy scents of the night air, his hot tongue delving into her mouth, his body pressed up against hers, the warmth of the water.
He squeezed and plucked at her aching nipple between his finger and thumb, and she gave a muffed cry. He invaded her mouth more deeply, urging it wide open, as his cock ground against her. She clung to him, open and receptive to his demands, trembling in his heat.
At long last, he broke off the kiss and bent down to kiss her other nipple right through the soaked silk. He caught it very gently between his teeth, sending spirals of sensation through her that made her gasp. He sucked hard, the thin fabric scarcely a barrier. Then he lifted his head and kissed her on the mouth again, sending sparks of pleasure skittering between her lips and her just-sucked breast. She darted her tongue into his mouth. He tasted like sex and spring.
He pulled back to murmur, “You’ve gotten really good at that.”
“At what?” she asked breathlessly. “Kissing?”
“Mm-hmm.” A sly expression stole across his features, and he carried her a few steps toward the deeper end.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, prompting a low chuckle from him.
“Sit up here,” he said, patting the edge of the pool behind her.
She obeyed, thinking he would join her. When she started to scoot back from the edge, and he reached up and grabbed hold of her hips, shaking his head. He was positioned between her thighs. He began trailing kisses up the inner curve of one of them, making her squirm, and she realized what he intended.
She’d just finished her period, but still… She put a hand on his shoulder to stop his progress. “What if Jacinto sees us?” she hissed.
He squinted up at the house. “His bedroom’s on the other side.”
“But he could come out here!”
“He’s not stupid, mi ángelita.” The endearment and his rich amusement assuaged her worries. He plucked at her slip. “Take this off.”
She hesitated, glancing back again at the house.
“Take it off,” he repeated. “I want to see all of you.”
He almost never pushed her. Maybe that was why he was so impossible to resist when he did. And she wanted to make him happy. She wanted that more than anything. It was her fear of not being able to, not being enough for him, that got in their way.
She pulled the slip off over her head and tossed it aside. It landed on the flagstones with a soft, wet slap.
The cool water around her calves and the warm air against her wet, flushed skin made her hyperaware of her own nudity, and she crossed her forearms in front of her chest. He reached up to catch her hands in his, as gently as though they were small birds.
“Don’t,” he said. He slowly drew her hands down to her sides, opening her to his gaze. A sensual smile played on his lips, and appreciation glowed in his eyes. His approval dispelled all her doubts. “You look like Eve in the garden.”
She laughed a little. “Am I leading you into sin?”
He shook his head. “Into Paradise.”
“I’m no expert,” she teased softly, “but I don’t think that’s how the story goes.”
“This is a different story.” The low rumble of his voice went straight to her core.
He placed his hands on her knees and urged them farther apart. In no hurry, he glided the backs of his fingers along her sensitive flesh. She shivered, not a bit cold. As he stroked her there, he placed kisses along the delicate skin of her inner thigh.
“You smell amazing,” he said, looking up at her, still touching her lightly in a way that made her want to beg for more.
She gave a shaky laugh. “I probably smell like chlorine.” She was afraid that, if this went the way she thought it might and the way her body desperately hoped, she might taste like it too.
He laughed. “Definitely not.” He was probably right. She felt swollen and aching for him down there, slick beneath his touch.
Then he slipped his hand upward, two fingers penetrating her.
“Oh!” She covered her mouth. Jacinto might come out, after all, if he heard her.
“Shhh.” His fingers drew out and thrust into her again. Without stopping, he buried his face between her thighs, teasing her clit with his tongue.
His fingers drove further into her, and his skilled licks and nibbles made her toes, beneath the surface of the water, curl. She stifled a moan. Shamelessly, she leaned back to give him better access, reveling in the pleasure he gave.
Incredible, some place in the back of her mind realized that after the strife between them, and in the middle of danger and uncertainty, they could have this. It was all because of Michael, his generosity and his fearlessness. No. It was because of who they both were. Something in her very psyche and in his drew them together.
Pleasure eclipsed her thoughts, and she let out a soft moan. Even though he wasn’t an empath, he seemed to drink in her enjoyment, and it escalated his own. He teased, sucked her, unhurried, as if he could do it all night. Maybe he could.
Her breaths came faster. He said something she couldn’t hear, his thumb replacing his tongue on her clit, the firmer circular motions making every muscle in her body tense up with anticipation, driving her cries to a higher pitch. She was vaguely aware he was watching her and was too far gone to feel any self-consciousness. Her weight rested on her palms, planted on the flagstones behind her, and her head tilted back.
“That’s right, let go,” he was saying, his own arousal overwhelming her. Her orgasm took her hard, tearing a wordless cry from her lips, flooding her with joy and relief, sending deep pulsations through her core. She sagged back, almost too overwhelmed to prop herself up.
Water splashed her as Michael got out of the pool and wrapped his arms around her. “Here, get up,” he urged her, pulling her to her feet.
“I can’t walk,” she mumbled.
He laughed at her and darted a look around them. “Fine.”
He walked over to the fence where she’d draped a quilt she’d used earlier, when she was reading outside on the grass. Surely he didn’t think…? He spread it out right behind Val, kneeling down to pull it out straight.
“We can’t do it out here,” she half whispered, twisting around to look at him. But they were already doing it out here. This would be continuing. Her whole body felt like it was sparkling from the pleasure he’d already brought her.
He hugged her from behind, his strong arms around her, his wet chest against her back and his hard length against her backside—which she liked more than she would’ve expected. His body felt safe and dangerous all at once. “Why not?” he murmured in her ear. She was pressed up against him so closely that she could feel his heart beating. He lowered his head and kis
sed the curve of her shoulder, and she could feel not only his desire but also the way he listened for her answer, ready to relent.
He respected her as much as he loved her, and he loved her with all his heart. But not more than she loved him.
She wriggled and turned around in his arms, and he immediately loosened his hold on her, giving her freedom to move. She faced him. They were both kneeling, and she drew up to kiss him.
“I changed my mind,” she whispered. “I want to.”
He half laughed and then kissed her again, deeply, cupping her jaw with his hand, his thumb massaging her cheek. Then he turned and urged her to lie on her back, and she did, quickly. He stretched his powerful body over hers, bracing himself on his forearms.
She felt weak beneath him, overloaded with arousal and the heightened pitch of the emotion between them. Her arms were raised, elbows bent, on either side of her head, palms upward to the night sky. He nuzzled and lightly bit her earlobe. His mouth was wet and hungry on the side of her neck, and she squirmed, raising her hips against him, wanting more, even after all he’d done.
Was it normal to be so insatiable?
With him, was it any wonder?
“You want to what?” he finally asked her.
“You know,” she murmured.
Shifting his weight, he reached down between her legs, dipping his fingers into her slick folds and squeezing gently there. She whimpered. He raised his drenched fingertips to circle around one of her nipples, making it even harder. “I know you want something,” he teased. Then he lowered his head and sucked her breast. Oh, Goddess.
“I want you inside me,” she breathed.
He grazed his fingertips, still redolent with her essence, across her parted lips, a slightly shocking gesture that overwhelmed her. She didn’t even think he thought about what he was doing—he pulsed with adoration and raw need borne of holding himself back thus far. “Say it the dirty way,” he urged.
She remembered his emotional reaction when she’d referenced a particular word from Chaucer. She knew what he was asking. She never would’ve imagined herself talking like that, but she wanted to, because he liked it. But she also knew what would make it even better for him. She used the higher, sweeter voice, the one that sent tingles. “I want you to fuck me.”