Michael's House (Reunion: Hannah, Michael & Kate #2)

by Pat Warren

  Stealthily, he came skimming toward her underwater, his hands first yanking her down, then hard up against his body. He grabbed her wrists to stop her struggles, then took her mouth. He kept her there for a long moment before planting his feet in the shifting sand and finally pulling her up, his lips still locked on hers.

  Desire consumed him like a tidal wave with the force of the relentless sea. His blood roared through his veins, heated, insistent. His mouth moved over hers, trying for control, for patience. This time she’d responded instantly, her tongue seeking his, her arms snaking around him and holding on.

  Michael pulled back, for air, for balance. Her hair was plastered to her head, her eyes blinking away moisture, registering the hazy confusion of passion. His gaze dropped to where her pale yellow knit shirt clung to her breasts, the points dark and rigid under the sheer material of her bra. He bent his knees and, aided by the buoyancy of the water, lifted her, then guided her legs to fasten around his waist. He settled his mouth on one breast and heard her soft moan as her head dropped back.

  Fallon felt the tug deep inside, felt her bones turn to water as her hands settled in the thickness of his hair. This was what she’d wanted, needed; this mindless oblivion. No time to think, to worry, to cast blame. Time only to feel.

  And oh, he felt glorious, his mouth moving to make love to her other breast with teeth and tongue, causing ripples of desire to surge through her. His large hands on her bottom were hard and possessive. His eyes as he lifted his head and gazed at her were burning with a fierce need she understood all too well.

  “I want you, now,” Michael said, his voice husky.

  “No, I—This is a public beach.” Suddenly remembering that, she looked around but saw no one. Nevertheless, she couldn’t. “Not here.”

  He cursed the wait, but understood. He let her slide down his body and saw her eyes widen when she realized how aroused he was. “Come on.” He took her hand and walked her out of the sea, hoping the breeze would cool his blatant need temporarily. At the van, he unlocked the door, reached for the towels he always kept there, and handed her one. He had the engine going before she managed to fasten her seat belt with wet, shaky fingers.

  The first motel was a mere five miles away, tucked in a grove of trees off the highway, a series of small cabins. Without a word, Michael jumped out and hurried to the office.

  On the short ride over, Fallon hadn’t let herself think about anything except Michael. Michael and the incredible way he made her feel—elemental and needy and wonderfully female. She’d never been impetuous or rash or even terribly spontaneous, as she’d explained to him. Until now. Until Michael.

  He made her aware of herself as a woman, a very desirable woman—something no one else had ever quite managed to do. He made her want things she hadn’t known she wanted. This was all happening too soon and yet, she’d lived twenty-six years without ever reaching for the brass ring, without ever following her heart or acting on impulse. This time she would. This time was just for her, and the timing be damned.

  She saw him leave the office and rush to open her door, then pause, in his eyes a question. She knew he was giving her one last chance to back out. She studied him for several seconds, then made up her mind. Trembling, she placed her hand in his.

  The small cabin was shadowy. Michael locked the door and closed the drapes, then turned on the bedside lamp. It glowed softly, revealing a king-size bed. He yanked down the spread and light blanket, exposing pale blue sheets.

  Then she saw nothing else except Michael in front of her, Michael looming large and very male, Michael with his damp hair that fell forward onto his handsome face. He slipped off his shoes and whipped off his shirt, tossing both aside.

  The air conditioner clicked on noisily in the background. The lamplight dimmed with the power surge, then settled. He took in the wet T-shirt that outlined her soft curves. “Let’s take that off. I don’t want you to catch cold.”

  Tentatively, her hands went to the hem of her shirt, then hesitated. “This probably isn’t the wisest thing I’ve ever done.”

  “Wisdom is overrated, don’t you think?” He bent to rain kisses on her face and smelled sunshine and sea on her skin.

  “You always smell so good. How do you manage that?”

  Her breath hitched in her throat as she reached to touch his chest, feeling the strong muscles, the springy blond hair. “You have a beautiful body, did you know that?”

  “You think so?” He grinned down at her. “You show me yours and I’ll show you mine.” He decided to hurry her along and tugged the shirt off over her head. Her hair, already dry, settled as she squared her shoulders, as if for battle. He would give her one. Her bra was a wisp of satin, the peaks of her breasts already swelling. He gave in to a rush of yearning and put his mouth over her.

  Fallon groaned at the contact, wanting to be flesh to flesh with him, her hands reaching behind her back to unfasten the obstacle. She yanked her bra off and when his lips touched her finally, she closed her eyes as the heat built and spread.

  He could no longer wait, no longer be patient. He crushed his mouth to hers and tumbled with her onto the blue sheets. His hands shoved at her shorts, struggling to slide the wet material from her while her fingers fumbled with the snap of his jeans. Half-mad with a raging need he hadn’t felt in years, Michael ripped off the last remnants of her clothing, breathing hard as his eyes caressed her secrets.

  “I’ve never been like this, never wanted anyone like this,” Fallon murmured in breathy gasps as she insinuated her hand inside the jeans she couldn’t seem to remove fast enough. Hungry and seeking, her mouth returned to his as her fingers finally closed around him.

  He bucked at the contact, then swore under his breath as he wrestled with his pants. Her ministrations tormented him, driving him on to free himself completely. They rolled and thrashed over the cool sheets, desperation driving them. Michael paused only long enough to reach into his damp back pocket for his wallet to yank out the foil packets he was never without.

  Then there was no thought to go slowly, to be gentle or tender. Not now, not this time. This was all flash and fire and feeling, racing through him, not unlike the thunderous waves they’d left minutes ago. Gone was the hesitant, almost-shy woman he’d glimpsed from time to time. Her mouth and hands roamed his body with the same sense of urgency, the same delighted curiosity that had him seeking and finding her most vulnerable spots.

  Fallon gloried in the wonder of having him here all to herself, to do with as she pleased. His hard, muscled body trembled as her lips moved to taste his sleek male flavors, to nip and nibble at his flesh. She heard him draw in a deep, shaky breath as her clever fingers worked their own brand of magic on him.

  Then it was her turn to gasp as his mouth returned to devour hers and his hands went searching. She arched when he sent her over the first wild peak, then trembled as he drove her up again. Just when she thought she couldn’t handle another onslaught, he slipped inside her and promised her more.

  Michael gazed down at her as he began the rhythm. Her hair tumbled about her flushed face, her lips parted slightly and her green eyes grew smoky with passion. He’d never wanted a woman as much in his life. He closed his eyes then, and saw her still. She filled his vision, his mind, his memory. He felt her clench around him and heard her cry out.

  And then he let the flames consume them both.

  He didn’t want to move, wasn’t sure he could. His head lay on her breast as he listened to her heart trying to return to normal. He wasn’t certain his ever would.

  “I’m not usually like that,” Fallon finally said, disliking the apology in her voice, yet finding herself unable to disguise it.

  Michael angled around so he could see her face. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Is that a fact? What are you usually like?”

  That caught her off guard. “Uh, well, you know. Not quite so aggressive or in such a hurry.” Raising a hand now that she finally felt able to move again, she finge
r-combed her hair back from her face. “I don’t know exactly what happened.”

  Bracing himself on his elbows, he rose above her. “Whatever it was, I like it. No, I love it.” He dipped to kiss her, slowly, lingeringly. Now that the first passionate flare-up had ebbed, he could afford to be tender. And he felt a bit chagrined himself. “I didn’t mean to be so rough. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

  Lazily, she smiled up at him, deciding that they’d been well matched after all. “You weren’t rough, and I’m not hurt. I guess we were both a little...anxious.”

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “You could say that.” He became aware of their positions and decided he was probably crushing her. He rolled onto his back, taking her with him so that she was sprawled atop him. “You’re full of surprises, Fallon,” he said, his hand stroking her cheek, her silken throat, her satiny shoulders, realizing that although he’d just had her, he wanted her again.

  “In what way?” she asked, curling into his touch.

  “You have this cool, almost-unapproachable way about you at first. You keep people at a distance with just a look.” His hands tightened their hold on her and his eyes warmed. “But when I touch you, something happens and you change.”

  Exactly what she’d been thinking—and it worried her.

  Frowning, she eased away from him.

  “Wait. Where are you going?”

  “I’m trying to figure out just what there is about you that does that to me, that makes me behave out of character.” She’d enjoyed making love with him, but it had also frightened her. Her reaction to him made her vulnerable, and that worried her.

  Shifting onto her back, Fallon pulled the sheet up, needing the small protection it offered. “As terrific as this was, we have nowhere to go, Michael.”

  He’d been watching her, realizing that her thoughts had turned inward and her protective armor had slipped back into place. He rolled toward her, placing a finger on her chin and forcing her to look at him. “Do we have to be going somewhere? Can’t we just enjoy this, what we’ve discovered ? I’m not making any demands here. Are you?”

  “Certainly not. It’s just that...that feeling this way is unnerving. Losing control like that, it’s upsetting.” She stared up at the beamed ceiling as if answers could be found there.

  “Not if the other person feels that way, too.”

  Surprised, she turned her head. “Do you?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Weren’t you here in this bed with me? Didn’t you notice my wholehearted participation? In case you’re wondering, that wasn’t a performance. And, for your information, I don’t like losing control any more than you do.” Which was certainly the truth. But he could handle this, of that he was certain. He could enjoy without giving away parts of himself. He’d been doing it for years. “Let’s not overthink it, Fallon.” His hand pulled down the sheet, skimmed along the underside of her breast and he saw her flesh react instantly to his touch. “Let’s enjoy what we have.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. How could this happen again—so soon, so swiftly? She placed her hand atop his. “We can’t. It must be late. We have to get back and...”

  “Why? What are we rushing back for? We can’t go to the Rodeo Bar till tomorrow.” He leaned down and kissed her, tenderly at first, then more deeply. Lifting back, he looked into her eyes. “Unless, of course, you don’t want me as much as I want you?”

  How could she fight this? Slowly, she wound her arms around him. “Shut up and kiss me again.”

  They were sitting cross-legged on the bed eating chicken lo mein, sweet-and-sour pork and shrimp-fried rice from cardboard containers with chopsticks. Fallon wore a towel wrapped around her while Michael had on only his jeans, still not quite dry. After round two, they’d napped a bit, then awakened starved. Not wanting to dress and go to a restaurant, Michael had checked the Yellow Pages and found a Chinese restaurant not far away that would deliver.

  “Mmm,” Fallon all but purred. “This was a good idea.”

  Michael swallowed a tasty mouthful. “Yeah, I have one every once in a while.”

  Fallon’s eyes smiled into his. “More than one lately.” She didn’t even blush when she said it. How far she’d come in a few short days, she couldn’t help thinking.

  He grinned back at her. “Hold that thought. The night is young.” It amazed him, absolutely amazed him, but he felt tireless, indefatigable. He went back to eating before he threw the cartons aside and ravished her again without allowing her to finish her dinner.

  Afterward, as she sipped tea from a cup, Fallon grew thoughtful.

  It was only seven according to the bedside clock that was bolted to the nightstand. “You’re sure that the Rodeo Bar is closed tonight?” They could still make it back to San Diego before the usual evening crowd descended. For a short time, she’d almost forgotten her reason for being here.

  Michael nodded as he finished the fried rice. “Always on Sunday.” He dropped his chopsticks into the carton and set both on the floor, then took a sip of tea. “But I think I’ll call the house and talk with Opal. See what’s happening, if anything.”

  He swung about, placing his bare feet on the floor, and reached for the phone.

  “I’m going to take a quick shower while you make your call,” Fallon told him as she stuffed cartons into a brown paper bag. She tossed the trash and went into the bathroom.

  Humming to herself, she turned on the shower and stuck her hand in, waiting for the water to warm. She should be tired, she knew. She hadn’t slept really well in over a week. And this afternoon, when she could have been resting, she’d put her body through the most vigorous workout it had ever known, one that might exhaust an Olympic trainee. She felt a smile form.

  And she’d loved every moment of it.

  Amazing what a spirited round or two of earth-shattering sex could do for the body and soul. Even the mind. She felt refreshed, eager to get moving, energetic. Like nothing she’d ever known before. But then, never had she experienced anything close to what she and Michael had shared in that small, dim room.

  Grabbing the nearly threadbare washcloth, she stepped under the spray and gazed at the pitiful cube of soap. Oh, well, even these small inconveniences couldn’t dampen her spirits right now. As much as possible, she worked up a lather.

  Of course, she knew it would be foolish to make too much of what had happened. They were two healthy people who’d each met their match physically, that was all. Aside from that, they had little in common. They had separate lives, different commitments, distinct and unrelated goals. Just because they were simpatico in the bedroom certainly didn’t mean they would be a good match in other areas of their lives.

  Michael was too focused, too dominating, too controlling for the long haul. And she was too independent for him, too challenging, too different. She needed someone who treated her more like an equal. He needed someone who wouldn’t mind a man making all the decisions.

  They were definitely incompatible.

  She turned off the water and stepped out of the shower in a cloud of steam. The towel wasn’t very much larger than the washcloth, but she managed to dry herself anyway. She wiped off the mirror and wished she had a toothbrush.

  The woman who gazed back at her looked contented, satisfied, almost mellow. “Good grief!” Fallon said aloud, then laughed as she wound another towel around herself and opened the bathroom door.

  The first thing she saw was that Michael was dressed and pulling on his shoes. Her heart began to hammer. “Something’s happened. What is it?”

  “Opal said that Rollie called and left me a message. It seems that Laurie and T.J. were in the Rodeo Bar last night.”

  I have not written for nearly two weeks now. We’ve run into one problem after another. Only our fierce determination keeps both Sloan and me going.

  First, there was the rain — three days and four nights. Drenching, unrelenting, devastating rain. We were soaked to the skin with no dry clothes left. We nibbled on drie
d fruit and beef jerky and drank rainwater, our appetites almost nonexistent. Then Sloan came down with a sickness.

  We were high in the mountains, miles from anywhere. The few cabins we’d passed on the way up were inhabited by people dirt poor and unable to help, I know. He must have picked up a bug, perhaps from food he wasn’t used to eating, or a chill from being wet for so long. Funny, he’d been worried that I would be the one to come down with something with my frail health. Yet somehow, perhaps because Sloan needs me, I am the strong one.

  I had no choice but to scout out a cave that at least would keep him dry. I kept a fire going and made soup from the provisions we’d taken along. Then something odd happened. An old woman came along riding on a skinny mule. She stepped in out of the rain and saw how the fever raged through Sloan. She opened her saddlebag and took out some herbs, then had me brew a pot of strong tea. She put the herb mixture into the tea and forced Sloan to drink some. At first, I was hesitant to let her, but he’d been ill for days and only grew worse. The old woman stayed with us and by morning, Sloan’s fever broke. In another day, he was able to eat solids and to get up, although he was weak. That evening, we lay down on our bedrolls and sometime during the night, the old woman left us.

  I wonder if God sent her to us, for we badly needed a miracle.

  Now, we trudge on. Twice we’ve run into roaming gangs, bandidos, men with little regard for the law or for human life. We hide and wait and, so far, we’ve been lucky, for we haven’t been hurt. Yesterday we met a young soldier home on leave and I asked him about the cabin we seek, about Monica and Christopher, and Al Torres. He told me we were on the right path to the Torres house. It is another thirty miles away, he estimated, along a twisting, torturous mountain road.

  It might as well be a thousand miles.

  I am so weary and often frightened. I would cry except I have no tears left. And I must keep up my spirits for Sloan’s sake. He is such a good man, such a dear friend. Sometimes we just hold each other, our fearful thoughts on our children who are not with us.