Michael nodded thoughtfully and said, “I know you’re not. But we’re going to have it anyway.” He smiled wryly. “Think of it as a practice run for the real conversation.”
“Okay,” she said slowly.
“Tara,” he began, “you know that I want more than just a weekend father position with Madelynn, and it hinges on what kind of relationship you and I have.”
“Michael,” she interrupted.
“Let me finish,” he said. “All I’m asking you to do is try. Just try to remember why you were with me in the first place. It will be different this time, I swear to you. And if you decide after a while that you don’t feel anything for me, then I will settle for just Madelynn. But I want both of you. I want to be her daddy, and I want to be…” he paused. “Well, I want to be more to you than just Madelynn’s daddy. You know that.” He took a deep breath, and Tara strained to hear him when he asked, “Do I have any chance at all with you?”
Tara looked away, uncomfortable with the hunger in his eyes. “I don’t know Michael. I know I still feel something for you, but whatever it is, I haven’t defined it yet, and I’m not sure if I can trust it or not.” She took a calming breath before continuing, “But I know that you have to be part of Madelynn’s life. And I want her to know who you are.” That had become abundantly clear to her this morning.
Michael nodded and looked down at his lap for long moments. Glancing back up at her, he said, “Come here a minute.”
Tara told her legs not to move, she really did, but she stood anyway and walked to his bed. He motioned for her to sit down, and she sat on the edge, as far from him as she could get.
“I’m going to kiss you again, Tara. If you feel absolutely nothing when I kiss you, then tell me and I’ll stop trying right now.” His hand slid to the nape of her neck and turned her toward him. “But,” he said, sliding closer to her and moving his lips closer, “if you do feel something, I’m not going to give up. Because I know it was good.” His lips were so close to hers, close enough she could almost taste him. “And it’ll be good again.”
With that, Michael closed the final distance between them, lightly brushing his lips against hers and slowly applying more pressure. Tara couldn’t stop herself from leaning into him and pressing her lips more firmly against his. When his tongue slid past her lips to stroke hers, her brain, along with all her inhibitions, dissolved. No other man did this. No other man made her forget everything else the way Michael could. She slid her arms around his neck and stroked the hair at the nape of his neck. Michael groaned against her lips and wrapped his arms firmly around her. He pulled her onto his lap and leaned back against the reclined head of the bed. Tara hesitated when she felt the ridge of his erection pressing against her bottom, but his lips slid from hers to caress her neck, and once again common sense failed her. His hand slid up her side to cup her breast, and she gave a breathy moan when his thumb brushed her nipple. Nipping her neck lightly, Michael returned his lips to hers and whispered her name before capturing her mouth in another kiss. His hand left her breast, and disappointment fluttered through her before she felt him lift the hem of her shirt and slide his hand back up to cup her.
His other hand, which was gently rubbing her back, stole up the back of her shirt, and Tara felt her breasts give way as he unhooked the bra. Brushing it out of the way, Michael covered her bare breast with his hand and lightly pinched the nipple. Tara’s lips parted from his as she moaned lightly. His hand was rough, abrasive against the smooth skin, and Tara trembled at the scrape of his calluses against her nipple. It had been so long since Michael had touched her this way, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized Michael had been the only man she’d ever wanted to do so.
Tugging lightly at her nipple with his fingers, he returned his lips to her neck, and Tara felt him insistently tugging on her hips. Giving in, she turned and straddled him, settling herself on his straining erection. She rotated her hips against the bulge in his jeans, rubbing herself against him until she found the friction that felt best. Michael made a muffled sound against her neck and arched his hips slightly, pressing himself against her. Urgently, he lifted her shirt and pulled it over her head, and then pulled her unfastened bra off and threw them both on the floor. For an instant, Michael sat staring at her, lightly brushing his hands on the outside of her breasts. Just when Tara was beginning to feel awareness and self-consciousness returning, Michael pulled her forward and wrapped his lips around one nipple and pinched the other lightly with his fingers. He flicked, rolled, and sucked her nipples in turn until they were glistening and straining toward him and her hips were rolling against him instinctively. She wanted this, more than she’d ever imagined she would again. Michael’s hands grazed her sides as he moved them around to squeeze her ass and pull her harder against him. He captured her mouth again, thrusting his tongue and hips in unison. Stroking her tongue against his, Tara moved her hands from around his neck and slid them down his chest until she found the hem of his shirt. He broke off the kiss and pulled his hands away for the scant seconds it took to jerk his shirt over his head and toss it on the floor to join hers. Roughly, he pulled her back to him, her breasts flattening against his chest, the springy hair chafing her sensitive nipples. Michael returned his hands to her hips and resumed the rhythmic thrusting, bringing her closer and closer to the edge. He bit her neck lightly and then licked his way back to her lips. Tara surged against him, wanting, needing to find release, lost in the web of lust he’d created around them.
*
Mike gripped Tara’s sweet, sweet ass, pulling her roughly against him.
“God, yes, Tara. Take it.” he said, his voice deep with longing. He watched her above him, her heavy breasts bobbing with her movements, her head thrown back, and he lost the last tendril of self-control he’d been clinging to. Mike unsnapped Tara’s jeans and rolled with her, leaning down and pulling them to her knees, making sure her panties went too.
“Kick them off,” he said roughly and then took a nipple in his mouth. Mike slid his hand down her body and parted her legs, sliding a finger partly inside her as she kicked herself free of her pants. His teeth lightly grazed her nipple, and he pulled his finger out, only to slide it completely back in. Tara was so fucking wet, and when he pulled his finger out and slid two back inside her, Mike could feel the moisture clinging to his fingers. God, he was so close. He wanted to be inside her now. He’d fantasized about this for years, seen her face in every woman he made love to, and he didn’t want to wait any longer. Mike slid his arm under her and rolled onto his back, bringing her with him, and recapturing her lips with his. He drove his tongue into her mouth and reached between them to unfasten his jeans. He could feel Tara’s heat and moisture against his knuckles and arched his hips just enough to pull his jeans down. He tore his mouth from hers and sat up, capturing her nipple between his teeth and flicking his tongue across the sensitive tip. She purred, and Mike felt the sound through his entire body.
He reached his arms around her and worked his jeans and boxers down just far enough to free himself. He leaned back, and panting, positioned his throbbing cock at her entrance.
“Michael…” she said softly.
He looked up at her, desperately.
“God, Tara, please don’t stop me now.” His eyes pleaded with her, and the head of his penis brushed against the warm, wet entrance to her body. “I’ll die if you do.” Mike swallowed hard, his body shaking with the effort it took to hold back.
In response, Tara sank down slightly against him and said, “I wasn’t going to stop you.”
His breath came out in a relieved rush, and he slid the head of his cock from her steamy center to rub the tip against the throbbing button that would bring her release, spreading the wetness of her body. Tara gasped and pressed herself against him.
“Michael, please.” He glanced up at her, surprised.
Her eyes were closed, and her lips were pulled back to show perfectly even, white teeth.
/> “Please, what?” He heard the words come from his mouth but was certain he hadn’t said them. Why the hell am I asking?
“Michael,” she moaned.
Deciding that was answer enough, Mike slid his aching cock back to her entrance and pushed upward as she sank down until he was fully embedded inside her.
God, she was tight! Her body clenched around him, and Tara trembled above him, the tight walls of her sex clasping, milking him. Gently stroking her clitoris with his thumb, Mike rotated his hips against hers, pulling himself slightly out and then sliding back in. With a gasp, and what sounded like a feminine little growl, Tara put her hands on his shoulders and began stroking him with her body.
Mike groaned deep in his throat and took her breasts in his hands to pluck her nipples as she moved on him. Her hips rose and fell, over and over. His release built faster than he’d wanted, and he returned his hand to her clit to stroke her. He urged Tara faster against him, and suddenly she cried out and pressed her hips hard against his.
Thank God! Mike dipped his head and took a nipple in his mouth, sucking hard, and returned the pressure of her hips. The liquid heat of her sex clenched around him like a soft, silken hand squeezing him over and over while she trembled above him in climax. The orgasm he’d felt building along his spine for so long overtook him as she tightened around him. With a deep groan, Mike shoved his pelvis against her in an attempt to push himself as far inside of her as possible. His body tensed, and his back bowed as he came in powerful spurts that seemed to last forever. Finally, the violent jerks of his cock slowed and stilled as Mike felt the last vestiges of orgasm subside. He kept his hands on Tara’s hips, holding her in place.
They remained that way, their bodies pressed tightly against each other for long moments, until finally she collapsed against him with a soft sigh. Mike wrapped his arms around her, trying to stay inside of her and fight off the drowsiness that threatened to rob him of these warm moments. His heart pounded against the wall of his chest, and despite his efforts not to, he slipped into a deep and peaceful sleep.
Chapter 15
They both awoke to the shrill ringing of the phone. Tara lifted her head from Michael’s shoulder and looked around groggily. She felt his muscles flex beneath her as he reached for the receiver.
“Hello.” His voice sounded hoarse, and he cleared his throat softly. “Okay, thanks.” He hung up the phone and looked down at her. “Madelynn’s awake.”
Tara looked at him, confused for a moment, and then said, “Oh.” She started to sit up and realized with a start that Michael was still inside of her. Oh, God. I had sex with him! She felt her face heat as the last remnants of sleep faded away and self-loathing filled her. She hadn’t been with him forty-eight hours, and he already had her back in bed. She started to pull away and sit up, but Michael’s arms were wrapped firmly around her, and she couldn’t move. Her breasts rubbed across his chest as she tried to get away, and her nipples puckered at the friction. Almost immediately, she felt him responding inside of her, growing thicker and longer. She looked at him angrily and opened her mouth to lecture him, but he cut her off.
“Look, Tara, I can see you’re already regretting this. We need to talk about it.” His hand rubbed up and down her back in slow, soothing strokes. “I don’t…”
“We don’t need to talk about it,” Tara interrupted, her hands fisted against his chest. She tried to pull away from him again, and this time he let her go. She heard a wet sound as her body separated from his and winced. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Her vagina and thighs were slick with his semen, and a gentle stream slid slowly out of her body and onto her leg. Tara blushed, more in anger than humiliation, and hopped off the bed, snatching her shirt up from the floor. She kept her back to Michael as she gathered her clothes and stalked into the bathroom to clean up and get dressed.
Tara scrubbed her hands ruthlessly and used a wet washcloth to clean her thighs. Angry tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. It was like nothing had changed. He beckoned, she came running. At least she was on birth control this time, though. Not that he knew that. She brushed away the tears and jerked the door open.
When Tara exited the bathroom, Michael had his jeans pulled back up and fastened and was sitting with his legs over the side of the bed.
He looked at her sheepishly and said, “I can’t get my shirt.”
God knew he needed that shirt. She couldn’t think straight with his muscled chest on display. She stalked over to where his shirt had landed, picked it up, and threw it at him, hitting him in the chest with it. He didn’t comment, just pulled it over his head and looked at her thoughtfully. “Tara…”
“Don’t!” she interrupted again. She didn’t want him to try to justify it, talk her into accepting the fact that she’d let him affect her that way. “Just don’t, okay? You kissed me, and just like I did before, I turned into a cat in heat, and…”
“The hell you did!” Michael’s fists clenched against the side of the bed, and his eyes narrowed. “You are not going to take the best thing that’s happened to me in over five years and turn it into something cheap. We made love, Tara, because not too long ago we were in love. And there’s something of that left, and whether or not you’ll admit it, you were just as hungry as I was for a taste of it again. That is what this was about.”
Tara snatched her shoes from where she’d kicked them off at the end of the bed and fumed, “You’re going to sit there and try to tell me you haven’t had sex since me?” She snorted. “Pull the other leg.” Michael was full of it if he told her that, and she’d walk out of here without a backward glance as soon as the words left his lips.
Michael clenched his jaw and looked away. “I didn’t say that,” he said through gritted teeth. “I said it was the best thing that had happened to me in over five years. It’s been about eight months since I’ve had sex, but I haven’t had good sex since you.” He looked back up at her, his eyes boring into hers. “I haven’t been able to have sex without thinking about you the entire time and wishing it was you. And don’t think I couldn’t tell that you haven’t exactly been sexually active.” Michael looked away and cursed under his breath. Tara stood staring at him, eyes wide, humiliated. He was probably proud of that, she thought bitterly. He’d probably strut and brag to his friends that he banged everything with two legs while she sat at home raising his child and pining for him. Tears pricked her eyes, and Tara fought them back.
“Look, Tara, I didn’t mean for it to happen like this, and I’m sorry.” He ran his hand through his hair and gave an agitated sigh. “I got swept away. It was just…It was so damn good. I’m sorry.”
Tara stalked to the chair by the window and sat down to pull her shoes on. She could feel Michael watching her and was thankful he’d finally shut up. It took an almost physical effort to push the fury and embarrassment away and concentrate on how hard he’d been trying. Those old feelings were so ingrained in her it was hard to remember he was trying to change.
She sat staring at her feet for a few moments, scraping the remnants of her pride and self-respect back together. When she finally felt capable of holding it together long enough to leave, Tara stood. “I’m going to get Maddie.”
Michael nodded jerkily and watched her leave. Once the door closed behind her, she heard a muffled thud that sounded like flesh hitting a pillow followed by, “Goddamn it!”
Tara leaned against the wall just outside his door. What the hell had she been thinking? She hadn’t come here to sleep with him! She’d come to…well, the reasons were fuzzy right now. She put her hands over her face and slid slowly down the wall. She was setting herself up for a world of pain. A choked sob escaped her throat, and hot tears pressed against her eyelids again. She gulped hard and dug the heels of her hands against her eyes. She would not cry! Not for him, not again. She’d used up all the tears she was willing to cry for him ages ago.
“Tara.” Michael’s voice came from beside her.
Tara shook her he
ad and looked up at his foot from the corner of her eye. He’d used crutches to follow her and was now standing in the doorway. She pursed her lips to keep the sob welling in her chest from escaping and blinked hard to dispel the tears. She could take anything from Michael except kindness and understanding. She wanted him to shrug and not mention it again because then she’d be able to hate him. But he was trying to fix it, and she couldn’t handle that. Damn him for finally turning into what she needed years after it was too late.
She felt a betraying tear slip out and turned her head away, hoping Michael hadn’t noticed. But when he cursed softly, she knew that he had seen, and now he was going to want to talk about it. Talk, talk, talk. Bleh.
“Tara, please, don’t do that,” Michael begged in a choked voice. “Please don’t cry.” He reached one hand out and gently stroked the top of her head. “Come back inside, let me make this right.”
Tara stood up and stared at her feet lest he see how hard she was fighting the tears. “I have to go get Maddie.”
Michael slid his fingers around her upper arm and said, “She can play for just a few minutes.” He dipped his head to see her face. Tara took a deep, shuddering breath and tried to rearrange her face into nonchalance.
When she finally looked up to meet his eyes, his stricken expression told her she’d failed to keep her emotions from showing. “We need to fix this before Maddie comes back. She’ll know something’s wrong, you know she will.”
He was right, damn him. Children were perceptive, and Maddie was especially in tune with Tara’s moods because it had always been just the two of them. Ignoring the speculative looks from the nurses down the hall, Tara brushed past him into the room and stood waiting with her arms crossed protectively over her chest. Michael shuffled slowly into the room and let the door swing shut. Tara finally looked at him and followed his gaze to the bed. He guiltily looked to his feet, to the ceiling—anywhere but the bed. Finally, his gaze landed on the chairs around the table, and he began the shuffle-hop steps with his crutches to sit down. Michael glanced up at her as he sat and leaned his crutches against the table. Tara’s eyes skidded nervously from side–to-side before she moved to take the chair farthest from him. Sitting down, she placed her hands in her lap and waited. She had no intention of being the one to begin this little tête-à-tête.
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