Her heart pounded as she tried to adjust to the darkness and catch her breath.
Something loud had woken her up, and it had sounded like it came from down the hall.
Although she’d broken out in a cold sweat of anxiety, she steeled her courage and rolled out of the bed, shivering as she lost the warmth of the covers. She slid on her shoes and then opened the door to her bedroom, peeking out at the dark hallway.
She could hear sounds from the direction of the living room—some muffled bumps and then a shattering of some kind. Suddenly afraid that Michael might be in danger, Allison sprinted down the hall toward the noises.
She burst through the open entrance of the living room and confronted chaos there.
The first thing she saw was a broken window and a tree branch extending partway into the room. Wind and rain from outside blew violently into the house, and Allison was faced with the rush of weather as she stepped further into the living room.
Michael was in the room, shirtless and kneeling in front of the fire. He appeared to be leaning into the fireplace.
“Are you all right?” she screamed over the howl of wind.
“Yeah,” he replied, glancing back over his shoulder at her. He sounded calm, although he must have been just as shocked as she was. “Just trying to put the fire out.”
Stray pieces of paper flew around the room, and the floor was littered with broken glass and wet leaves. Allison was so startled she could only stare at the turmoil. A tree must have been blown over, one of its large branches breaking through the living room window.
“What should we do?” she called, as Michael stood up, having successfully put out the blaze in the fireplace. She gestured toward the tree. “About this?”
“I don’t know. If there was a door to this room, we could shut up the room and just leave it. But it’s a main part of the house, and there’s no way to block it off.” As he spoke, Michael put a hand on her back and urged her out of the living room and back into the hallway, where it was slightly quieter and less wet.
Allison was trembling, but she stared back toward the wrecked living room. “I guess we could try to find something to board up the window.”
Michael nodded, rubbing his damp face with both hands. “I think I saw some tools and plywood in the basement.”
The next hour wasn’t any fun. They found the requisite materials in the basement, and they returned to remove the large branch and then try to board up over the broken window. Fortunately, Michael appeared to be proficient with tools, and Allison had helped her father with some carpentry projects when she was a child. So they were able to put together a makeshift barrier against the weather.
They didn’t talk much as they worked—the mood was too urgent for random comments or idle complaints. But Allison couldn’t help but admire the strength and competence with which Michael went about such physical labor. His actions were powerful and efficient—a compelling incongruity in such a sophisticated man.
By the time they finished, they were both soaking wet and breathless. But at least wind and rain weren't blowing into the house anymore.
They stumbled into the kitchen, where Allison lit the burner again and put on hot water for more tea. Michael found a towel and wiped off his face, chest, and arms.
Allison took the second towel he offered her, but she put it down after wiping her face and hands. “You’re bleeding.”
He shrugged, highlighting the sleekly defined muscle development of his arms and abdomen. “Just a cut.”
She found the first aid supplies she’d used on his head earlier, and then she pushed him down into a chair at the kitchen table. He had a long cut on the back of his shoulder, perhaps from the broken glass of the window. It had bled a lot, but fortunately it wasn’t deep.
Carefully, Allison wiped the blood away, applied antiseptic wash, and then bandaged the cut with tape and gauze. She worked over him delicately, not wanting to hurt him and feeling oddly intimate about tending him this way.
Michael submitted to her care in silence, but he stood up as soon as she finished. Scanning her with observant eyes, he asked, “Did you get hurt?”
“No. I think I pulled a muscle in my arm trying to get that damned plywood in place, but otherwise I’m fine.”
“Then maybe you should get into some dry clothes.”
Allison glanced down at herself, suddenly realizing why Michael’s eyes smoldered the way they did without warning. Her little knit top and cotton pajama bottoms were clinging and transparent from being so thoroughly soaked. She might as well be completely naked, since every detail of her body must be visible to his gaze.
Refusing to indulge in the flood of shyness that overtook her, she met his eyes evenly. “So should you. I think there were some more clothes that might fit you in that closet upstairs.”
Michael nodded. He appeared rather tense but he gave her a half-smile as he picked up a lit candle and started to leave the kitchen. “Probably a good idea.”
As he left, Allison realized she didn't think it was a good idea. She didn't want him to put on clothes.
She wanted to take them off.
* * *
It would have been easier to walk upstairs and find dry clothes if Michael hadn't been quite so aroused.
Boarding up a window in the midst of a tropical storm shouldn’t have been an erotic activity. It wouldn’t have been, had Allison not been so wet afterwards and had she not been so gentle and tender as she bandaged his injury.
But Michael could see every curve and dip of her figure through the wet fabric of her pajamas. I had been all he could do to hold himself back as she worked over him, brushing against him occasionally and eyeing him with such concern.
It had been a long time since Michael had felt so intimate with another person, and his body reacted.
He made it upstairs, giving his overly stimulated body a lecture in control. He dug in the closet without enthusiasm until he found a gray t-shirt and a pair of trousers that might fit. They smelled musty, but at least they were dry, which was more than he could say about the jeans he was presently wearing.
Michael was about to unzip and try to peel off the denim when a tap on the door caused him to freeze.
“The tea was ready,” Allison called out from the other side of the door. “I brought you some if you want.”
“Thanks.”
Michael frowned as she entered, his body immediately tightening with interest once more as he saw that she was still wearing her wet clothes.
She smiled at him. “Did you find something to wear?”
His blood throbbed in his veins as he tried to tear his eyes away from the lush contours of her breasts beneath the wet fabric, the rosy, erect nipples clearly visible. “Yes,” he managed to say.
She must know how he was reacting to the sight of her body. He’d told her to put on dry clothes, but she hadn’t done so. Instead, she’d come to find him.
When he noticed that her eyes lingered on his bare chest, darting up occasionally to his face, Michael realized that she might be experiencing the same rush of desire and need that he was.
He was willing to back off if that was what she wanted, but she must know her presence here—in a bedroom, wearing practically nothing—would be an unspoken invitation.
She must know.
It had been years since Michael had hesitated to take what he wanted—particularly when it was offered so delectably—so he stepped over and took the mug of hot tea out of her hand. He set it down, and then he set the candle she held in her other hand next to the mug on the dresser.
He noticed her fingers were trembling a little.
Michael took one of her hands in both of his, and rubbed the cold, little hand between his to warm it up. “You’re shivering,” he murmured, “I told you to change into dry clothes.”
“I will.” She stared up at his face, her green eyes huge and melting. “I was going to. I just…”
“You just what?” His voice was thick
er than it should have been, but his whole body was pulsing now with erotic compulsion. He was uncomfortably hard in his wet jeans, but the discomfort was meaningless compared to the flood of desire that momentarily blurred his vision.
Allison swallowed visibly. Then she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.
Michael tangled the fingers of one hand in her wet hair. “Allison?”
Her face softened, her eyes blazing with warmth and desire. Her body became deliciously pliant as she leaned into him, tilting her head back in an obvious invitation.
Michael accepted it, bending down to claim her lips with his. Excitement spiraled up inside him as she opened immediately to the advance of his tongue. Her arms twined around his neck as the kiss deepened. He groaned in pleasure, deep in his throat, as he felt her eagerly rub her soft body against his.
They'd just spent almost an hour struggling with a broken window. Both of them were hampered by wet clothes, and the room was chilly and musty—lit only by a couple of candles. A storm roared outside, and tonight had already proved that their shelter was not an unbreachable one.
But none of that mattered as Michael lost himself in the embrace—heat, desire and urgency surging in his blood.
He couldn’t remember ever wanting anyone as much as he wanted Allison at the moment.
And dawn was still hours away.
Chapter Four
Allison had known what would happen when she knocked on the door to the bedroom where Michael was changing clothes.
She wanted it to happen.
While her mind still told her that she needed to be careful about Michael, her feelings and her body were both screaming at her to take what she wanted, to give into the flood of desire, to get lost in Michael's arms for the night.
Two adults could enjoy each other for one evening without becoming embroiled in an emotional mess. She wanted this. Michael wanted this. They were trapped together until morning. Allison would just need to be careful about forming irrational expectations about this continuing once the storm had passed.
Michael was hard and hot and intense, and his kiss overwhelmed her senses. She clawed at his bare skin, trying to get him closer, whimpering eagerly against his mouth.
She was so swept away that she started to urge him toward the bed in the room, wanting nothing more than to rid them both of their wet clothes so she could feel him as much as possible, feel him in every way.
But Michael resisted, tearing his mouth from hers with obvious reluctance. “At the risk of breaking the mood,” he said, slightly breathless as his hands palmed her bottom possessively, “We should think about protection before we go any further.”
Allison gasped, startled by how close she’d come to neglecting something so essential. “I’ve got some…In my bag…” She panted as she tried to fight the lingering urge to sink once more into Michael’s embrace and forget everything else in the world.
“Prepared for anything?” His eyebrows arched, but she thought she saw a glimmer of something that looked like possessive jealousy in his eyes.
It gave her a little thrill, despite how unreasonable a reaction it was. For all he knew, she was involved with another man. She wasn’t, but Michael didn't know that. And he had no reason to resent the possibility of her having sex with someone other than him.
Something instinctive inside her flared up with excitement at the brief blaze of primal heat in Michael’s gaze, however.
“Of course,” she replied, as coolly as she could when she was still tempted to yank his damp trousers down over his lean hips.
“I guess we could just move this to your bedroom,” he said, picking up one of the candles, “unless you think the moment is gone.”
Although they’d lost the initial momentum of lust that had swept them both away, Allison wasn’t having second thoughts. If anything, she wanted him more now than she had a few minutes ago. “Let’s go.”
They took their candles to the bedroom on the ground floor that Allison had claimed as hers. After they set down the candles, she dug through her overnight bag until she found the strip of condom packets in a side pocket. Feeling briefly self-conscious, she handed them to Michael.
She opened her mouth to say something, wanting to break the silence, when a loud crack of noise from outside made her gasp. Instead of making the ironic comment she’d intended, she shrank toward him, clutching his arm without thinking.
Michael frowned and walked toward the window, drawing aside the curtains and peering out into the storm.
“What was it?” Allison asked, her heart hammering as anxiety distracted her from both lust and self-consciousness.
“I can’t tell. It’s too dark—” When a flash of lightning illuminated the sky, he broke off his initial comment to say, “Looks like another tree blew over.”
Her irrepressible curiosity drawing her despite the lingering anxiety, she stepped over next to him to look out as well. In the darkness, the whipping rain appeared alien and fierce, and it wasn’t until another flash of lightning lit the night that she could see any real details about the large yard outside the house.
“I see it,” she said. “At least this one didn’t hit the house. I thought the worst of the storm was supposed to be passed by now.”
“Let’s hope this is the outer edge. It looks like it’s mostly wind now.”
They both stared out of the window for a minute, watching the tumultuous weather with a strange fascination.
It all seemed so surreal. Just a couple of days ago, Allison had been in D.C., hanging out in trendy bars and scoping out guys with her friends. Now she was in a strange house in the middle of a storm with a wet, half-dressed Michael Martin.
She was suddenly conscious that he was looking at her, rather than looking out the window. As soon as she shifted her gaze up at him, she forgot about the oddness of her situation.
All she could see were his hot, hungry eyes as they held hers. Then all she could feel were his hands cupping her face, his lips claiming hers once again.
Pleasure spiraled up inside her as she opened to his kiss. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her body against his, newly overwhelmed by the warm, masculine scent and feel of him.
With a guttural sound against her mouth, Michael slid his hands down to her hips. He pressed her pelvis against his, and a jolt of desire pulsed through her as she felt his hard arousal against her middle.
They rocked into each other with a slow, sensual rhythm as his mouth devoured hers. Then he cupped her bottom and started to lift her up. Without breaking the kiss, she clung to his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist, moaning with pleasure as her groin came into intimate contact with his belly.
Holding her securely against him, he walked her over to the bed and gently laid her down. Then he moved onto the bed with her, breathing heavily as he gazed down at her beneath him.
Allison shuddered with need and excitement, her flushed skin stimulated by the cool of the room. “Michael, hurry,” she mumbled, when he didn’t do anything but stare. She reached up to pulled him down into another kiss, wrapping her legs around him once more so she could rub her hot arousal against the hard bulge in his wet jeans.
Michael kissed her hungrily before he pulled his mouth away to trail it along her jaw and then down the line of her throat. “God, Allison,” he said huskily, “You’re beautiful. Beautiful.”
She arched up on the bed, overwhelmed by both his touch and his words. He peeled her wet top from her skin and maneuvered it over her head. She moaned softly as his lips lowered to her breasts. His attentions were both skillful and passionate, and soon she writhed with growing desire as the stimulation intensified.
Together, they managed to pull off her wet pajama pants and panties, and Allison wasn’t even self-conscious as she rubbed her bare skin against him.
Then she felt Michael’s hand between her legs, his fingers stroking her intimately. She sucked in a sharp breath, her body starting to shake from the combined
sensations of his massage and his skillful suckling at her breast. Her own fingers dug into his shoulders as the pleasure coalesced into a climax.
She cried out as the pressure shattered inside her, her hips moving with eager abandon as he continued to caress her, although he’d raised his head from her breast so he could watch her.
As Allison tried to catch her breath, she noticed a look in his eyes that was deeply disturbing and deeply intoxicating at once. She wasn’t quite sure how to identify it, but the closest she could come was possessive.
“What?” she demanded, flushed and relaxed from her climax but not even close to satisfied.
His mouth tightened in a half-smile. “Is that question supposed to mean something?”
She couldn’t help but laugh at his wry tone, realizing she hadn't been entirely coherent. “I wanted to know why you were looking at me that way.”
“You’re by far the best thing to look at in my present range of vision.” His eyes shifted to linger on her naked breasts and belly and then even lower to her groin.
“Hmm,” he murmured, determined to match his ironic intelligence no matter how much she felt like melting into goo. “I guess that smug tone means you’re pretty proud of yourself.”
Michael gave her a breathtaking smile that was just a shade from wicked, and his voice was an erotic caress. “We’re just getting started.”
* * *
In truth, Michael was rather proud of himself.
Allison was so passionate, so genuine in her responses to him, that he was washed with a purely masculine gratification. He’d been suffering from an overload of arousal as he caressed her to climax, but she’d come for him so quickly, so beautifully, that his desire mingled with both pride and tenderness.
Only the last remnants of irony allowed him to keep his voice wry and controlled.
At the sight of her flushed, tousled sprawl beneath him, Michael felt his body clench even more tightly. He adjusted so he could kiss her again, and he groaned low in his throat as her hands clutched at him eagerly and then fumbled to take off his damp jeans.
Storm Front (Reunited Hearts) Page 4