by Tawny Taylor
“Yes. If it works out that way, I’m going to owe you big-time.” Malek slapped him on the back. “Now, let’s get that woman in the family. We want her here, in the house, where she’ll be safe. Time to up your game.”
“That’s exactly what I intend to do, Malek.”
What was he doing?
Michelle checked the clock. It was a little after eight. Not terribly late. What was Tage doing tonight? Did he go to that club, the one where he’d met Angela? Was he there now, mixing and mingling with other women?
A tiny bit of jealousy bit at her insides.
What was he doing?
Although he’d said he was determined to convince her to marry him, he hadn’t said he wouldn’t see other women. To her, it was a no-brainer. If she were a man, she would keep it in her pants. Period. He wouldn’t touch another woman.
But she wasn’t a man.
Some men were dogs. Some men couldn’t go twenty-four hours without sex. Was Tage the kind who would chase women until the day of his wedding? After his wedding?
Right now, right this very minute, was he making love to someone else? Someone like Angela?
Stop it. You don’t have any claims to him.
She glanced down at her still flat stomach. She didn’t have any claims to him, but the tiny person inside her did.
What was he doing now?
She dragged her fingertips across her lips. The memory of his kiss blossomed in her mind. That man knew how to kiss. Did he ever. Never had she been kissed so well or so thoroughly. Never had she been so lost in need that she didn’t care about anything but relief.
What was he doing now?
Feeling restless, she grabbed her phone and checked it. He hadn’t called. She’d expected him to. At least once today. But he hadn’t.
Had he changed his mind? Had he decided she was too much work, not worth the effort?
A twinge of regret buzzed through her, making her realize something. She wanted him to pursue her. She wanted him to convince her. She wanted him to prove to her that he not only wanted her to marry him but that he would love her.
Sighing, she dropped her phone on the table, grabbed the television remote, and powered on the TV. Then she remembered she hadn’t paid the cable bill yet.
Maybe a book.
When she was a child, books had been her escape, a doorway into magical, exciting worlds where every girl got her Prince Charming and a happy ending. Lately she hadn’t done much reading. She kept telling herself she didn’t have the time.
Now, more than ever, she had the time. And she desperately needed the distraction. She grabbed her ebook reader. It was still fully charged. A quick skim of her meager inventory of ebooks convinced her she needed to do some shopping. She wanted to read something new. Exciting. She browsed the store’s bestseller list.
There. That one.
It was a romance.
In roughly sixty seconds she had the book downloaded and open. She got herself comfy on her couch and started to read. One page. Then another. Oh yes, this one was going to be good.
She was almost at the end of the third page, when a knock pounded on her door.
Immediately, she imagined it was Tage.
Her nerves jangled.
What if it was him?
Who else would it be if it wasn’t?
She was in her sloppy sweats and a tank top. Her hair, oh God, her hair. No makeup. She had showered and was clean, but she hadn’t bothered with makeup. Last night she’d been wearing makeup. And this morning, before going down to breakfast, she’d fixed herself up a little. She always carried the essentials in her purse. Some bronzer, lip gloss, eyeliner.
Right now, she was clean-faced except for the healthy-sized glob of moisturizer she’d smoothed on after she’d gotten out of the shower.
Her visitor knocked again.
It might be her neighbor, she reasoned. Every now and then, her neighbor, Mrs. Hebert, came over to ask for some milk or help with her computer.
Or it could be Tage.
She dashed back to her bathroom, brushed on some bronzer to give her face a little color, sloshed some mouthwash in her mouth, and pulled her hair out of the messy knot it had been in and raced back to the door.
It was him.
Oh God.
“Hi,” he said when she opened the door. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”
She felt her face warming. How embarrassing. He thought she’d been in bed. I must look worse than I thought. “Um, no. I was just relaxing.”
“Good. I . . . wanted to check on you, make sure you’re feeling okay.” He was still standing in the doorway, looking as handsome and sexy as ever. His shoulders were so broad. She swore they hadn’t been that wide this morning. And the five o’clock shadow darkening his jaw made him look a little dangerous. He lifted his brows.
“Oh. Yes. Come in.” She moved to the side and after he was inside, she closed and locked the door.
He turned to face her fully, and she couldn’t help staring. Honestly, he was the most stunning man she’d ever seen. His face was perfectly balanced, with a sharp blade of a nose, angled cheekbones, and a strong jaw. His lips were neither too thin nor too full. And they tended to tilt in a lopsided smile. His white teeth were even and straight, their hue a stark contrast to his olive-toned skin. In one word, he was to-die-for gorgeous.
It was so hard to believe that he not only had sex with her but he wanted to marry her. Never had she attracted the attention of a male who was so incredibly good-looking.
He reached for her hand, caught it. “Did you eat dinner?”
“I did. Thanks.”
“What did you have?” he asked as he led her into her own living room.
“The usual, a frozen dinner. I’m not much of a cook.”
He scowled. “Those meals are garbage.”
“So I’ve heard. But they are convenient. And I’m taking vitamins.”
“If you came to stay at my place, you could eat real meals. Every day.” He motioned for her to sit on the couch.
She sat. “If I ate big meals every day, I would probably gain a hundred pounds.”
He sat next to her and angled his body so he faced her. His gaze meandered up and down her body, making her feel warm. “It wouldn’t bother me if you gained some weight. I like girls with curves.”
He had to be just saying that to make her feel better. Angela didn’t have any curves, at least none that couldn’t be bought from a plastic surgeon.
“Regardless,” she said, “I live here. This is my home. I’m not moving in with you just so I can eat better.”
He grunted.
“Thanks for the offer, though,” she added, wanting him to know she wasn’t oblivious to the fact that he was trying to be kind and helpful.
He grunted again, turned, and checked out her place. “I didn’t say anything before because . . . well, I didn’t take the time. Your home is nice.” His gaze focused on the window. He loped over to it, pushed aside the blinds. “But it’s not very secure.” The window was open. He pushed on the screen. Then he shut the window and fiddled with the lock, which was broken. He discovered it was broken. “Hmmm.”
“I’ve been meaning to call maintenance. I put a board in there when I’m gone. Nobody can break in.”
“You live alone. That worries me.” Finding the board she used as a lock, he slid it in place and tested it.
“This is a good, safe neighborhood. I’ve been living here for years. Never had any trouble.”
He frowned. Even frowning he was glorious to look at. “I wish you didn’t live alone.”
“I like living alone. I can do what I want, when I want.”
He studied her for a moment, two. “I admire your independence. But now you have more than yourself to think about.”
“Okay, I realize that. But I’m done being polite. Why did you come here tonight? Was it to harass me about my eating habits? My unsecure apartment? Is that why?”
He prowled cl
oser, stared into her eyes. The air between them seemed to thin, electrify. Tiny unseen zaps jumped back and forth between their bodies. “No, I came here . . . for this.”
Moving suddenly, he grabbed her, hauled her against him, and smashed his mouth over hers.
20
It was a rough kiss, a kiss that told Michelle there could be no escaping Tage or his fiery passion. There was no choice but to surrender.
His tongue shoved inside her mouth. He tasted so good, minty. Sweet. Man. She could taste him for hours. For days. For years.
She felt her body softening as his tongue stroked hers. She was sinking into him, her body molding to his. He was warm. She couldn’t get close enough to that warmth. Lifting her arms, she whimpered into their joined mouths.
Already his kisses were stoking a fire inside her body. Her mind was getting foggy as sensations pummeled her system. The sound of her own quick, raspy breathing, the feel of his hot, hard body pressed against hers, the sensation of his fingers, tangled in her hair, the joy of being in his arms.
Breaking the kiss, he murmured against her neck, “Dammit, I couldn’t stop myself.”
She let her head fall back. “Stop yourself from what?”
“From kissing you. From holding you. I told myself I would come here to talk, to prove to you that I’m more than a hard cock.”
“I know you’re more than that.” Her insides were starting to ache. Already pounding, throbbing need was coursing through her veins. “You’re definitely more.”
He nipped her earlobe, then trailed little kisses along her jaw. The hand holding her head in place moved slightly, easing her head to the right to give him better access to her neck. The other one, which had been pressed flat against her back, smoothed down, over her bottom until it cupped her ass. “Damn, you’re sweet. The minute I taste you I want more. I want to lick every inch of your body.”
That actually sounded quite scrumptious at the moment. At the tension she heard in his voice, a wave of erotic heat swept through her body.
“Mmmm,” she hummed as she let herself just relax and enjoy the moment. Tage knew exactly how to touch her, how to make her body tremble and ache for him. A lick. A touch. A tiny nip and she was lost in need. Absolutely lost.
Within seconds she was writhing in agony. “Please,” she muttered. She was burning up with a fever. And only Tage could make it go away.
“Say you’ll be mine. Tell me you’ll marry me. Now. Right this minute. I’ll give you the relief you need.”
Bastard.
It would be so easy to give in to his demands right now, tell him what he wanted to hear. She was dying. From the pleasure. Until she had met Tage, she hadn’t realized pleasure could be so effing excruciating.
“Can’t,” she whispered.
“Won’t,” he corrected. He jerked her top up, and she sucked in a little gasp. When he got rough, it sent a wicked thrill through her. With one hand he unclasped her bra. With the other, he pulled the garment off her arms and threw it. “Nobody else will ever be enough for me. You’ve spoiled me. These perfect tits.” He weighed them in his hands, then pinched the nipples between his fingers and thumbs.
Pleasure-pain raced through her, zing. Her spine arched, pushing her breasts out even more.
“See that? See how you respond? No woman responds to my touch like that. Only you.” Bending down, he flicked his tongue over the tip of her stinging nipple. White-hot pleasure raced through her at the tiny touch. Heat pulsed to her center.
“Look at me,” he demanded.
She stared into his eyes. Never had she witnessed such torment, or raw, feral need.
She was going to melt.
Her knees buckled.
He swung one of his arms under her, scooped her off her feet. Seconds later, she was lying on her bed, on her back, staring up into the most beautiful face she had ever seen, and a pair of haunted, tortured eyes.
Could he really be so desperate? Or was it an act? If it was, it was worthy of an Academy Award. The darkness in his eyes tugged at her heart, rivaling the most memorable performances in movie history.
“I tried to convince myself I would be content with another woman. But I couldn’t do it.” Bending over her, he covered her lips with his, murmuring against them. “It’s you I want. Only you. Always you.”
Her heart, it was melting. So was her resolve.
No man had ever said anything like this to her.
She wanted to say yes, she would be his wife. But she was petrified. The fear tangled her tongue and blocked her throat.
He supported his weight with one hand, flattened against the pillow, next to her head. The other settled between her legs, covering her mound.
Her stomach tightened, and her hips rocked forward. Wouldn’t he touch her down there, where she ached the worst? She whimpered.
“Mmmm. How I love to hear that,” he said. “Are you suffering, little one?”
She nodded.
His hand inched lower, gliding between her legs. But that wasn’t good enough. Her clothes were in the way. “Some suffering is good.”
She never would have agreed with that statement before. But, as she lay trembling beneath him, bathed in erotic need, she had to agree with him now. It was good suffering. Very good. Most of her didn’t want it to end. The other did. Quickly. Now.
“I will teach you the secrets of pleasure and pain.” The hand between her legs moved back up, stopping at the waistband of her yoga pants. He jerked them down, exposing her, and she gasped. “I will teach you the joy of submitting. And the wonder of surrender.”
If she hadn’t been so enthralled, she might have been scared. But she wasn’t. She was captivated. “Teach me.”
“I cannot.”
“Why?”
“You must trust me first.”
“I do.”
“Do you?” Straightening up, he curled his fingers in the waist of her panties.
Yes, she wanted him to take them off. If he didn’t, she would do it for him. But did she trust him? With her body, sure. But with her heart?
No.
“I want to,” she said.
He glanced around her room. Then he went to her dresser and pulled open the top drawer.
“What are you looking for?” she asked.
“Trust me.”
She nodded and watched as he sifted through the contents of her drawer. He returned to her bedside a few seconds later, holding a couple of her mother’s silk scarves in his hands.
“Trust me,” he repeated as he placed one scarf on the bed and gathered the other into a narrow band. When she nodded, he set that one over her eyes. “Lift.” She lifted her head and he tied it, adjusting the folds to block off her vision. “There. Now, relax.”
She closed her eyes.
He touched her arm, startling her. She felt herself twitch. Then she felt the smooth fabric, gliding over her skin. It was soft and fluid, a gentle caress. She sighed as her insides coiled a tiny bit tighter.
The fabric tightened around her wrists, binding them together. Now she was tied up and blindfolded. Almost completely at his mercy. She was a little uneasy. But she was also excited, too.
Something touched her stomach, and she jerked. Without the benefit of her vision, she didn’t know where his next touch would be.
The touch, which was the size of a fingertip, meandered down the center of her belly. Lower it trailed. To her mound. Lower. Her stomach muscles quivered. Warmth pounded through her center.
There was that burn again, between her legs. That glorious, excruciating burn.
She groaned. “Please.”
“Please what? Tell me what you need.”
“I hurt,” she confessed as she tensed her muscles deep inside.
“Where?”
“Everywhere.”
“Mmmm. Then I must be doing something right,” he said in a low, deep voice.
“You’re doing everything right.”
“Glad to hear that.” He ea
sed her panties down, over her hips. She wriggled, shifting her weight to help him get them off. At last she was bare to him, fully exposed from head to toe. With gentle hands he pushed her legs apart. She felt her swollen folds parting for him. Heat pooled there.
“Touch me,” she begged.
He did it. At last. A soft touch. To her outer folds. Her body lurched. It wasn’t enough. Not even close.
“More,” she demanded.
“You’re such an eager girl. Eager and impatient.” His finger grazed her slit before delving deeper, between her swollen tissues.
“Ohhhh,” she heard herself say.
“Damn, you’re wet.”
Her empty canal clenched, the muscles pulling tight. Wet and empty.
His fingertip found her clit, and she trembled. He dipped lower, dampening it before returning to her sensitive pearl and stroking it again.
She practically levitated off the bed, the sensation was so intense. Every muscle in her body, even the ones in her fingers and toes, knotted. She needed more. Something big and hard stroking her inside, taking away the agony. She bent her knees and opened wider to him.
“You smell like honey.” She felt his breath warming her sensitized flesh. He was going to lick her down there. Oh yesyesyes.
She quivered.
His tongue swirled around the base of her clit. Round and round. Then it flicked gently over it. With each little touch, the fire simmering in her body sparked hotter, brighter.
Oh, this was exquisite. And frustrating. She needed him, his weight resting on top of her, his thick rod stroking away the agony.
“Please,” she said on a groan.
His tongue continued to dance over her clit. With each stroke, her body tightened more. Her stomach. Thighs. Feet. Chest. Arms. She felt her hands trembling, heard the rasp of her fast little gasping breaths.
“Please, Tage. I’m begging.”
He didn’t stop. He had no mercy. She was dying from pure ecstasy.
He gave her not one second of relief. Nor did he shove his cock inside her to allow her to tumble over the edge. No. Instead he cruelly licked and suckled on her clit. When she couldn’t take another second, she tried to pull her legs together.
“No.” He caught her thighs and shoved them wider apart.