Chapter Nine
The wind picked up. A fitting end to the Groundhog Day storm. Paige and Michael headed back to the bed and breakfast, carrying her small bag of gathered possessions, a wine bag, and some antacids. They walked happily but quickly past darkened shops, dodging a puddle ringed with ice.
“What a perfect evening,” Groundhog Man exclaimed.
A truck turned the corner and splashed them with salty, cold ice.
“You were saying?” Paige tried to brush off her clothing, which was covered with chunks of gray ice, embedded with dirt and street salt.
“I was saying, what a perfect evening…for a hot shower.” He laughed despite the fact his overcoat was now in serious need of dry cleaning.
Her response was to pull him to her by his splattered coat lapels. She kissed the smile right off of his face. “Race you.”
****
For the second evening in a row, Michael and Paige entered the bed and breakfast in the dark. For the second time, they hung wet coats and scarves in the appointed location, taking over the empty hooks. For the second time, they kicked off their wet shoes and onto the boot tray. This time, though, they both rushed up to the room, without any nervous anticipation. Just anticipation.
As soon as he unlocked the door, she ran past him into the room, quickly shedding her bag and clothing. He simply locked the door, undid his pants, and unhurriedly removed his clothing under the dim light of one side lamp, watching her. The faster she tried, the more she fumbled, tugging at her jeans.
“You’re distracting me,” she said with a giggle but was still the first into the bathroom. She struggled and tugged at the binder clip twisted in her hair. Entering the room, he reached behind her and deftly unclipped it, tossing it aside.
“You may be in the bathroom first again,” he said, his voice deepening as he continued. “The difference tonight is, I’m joining you.”
He pushed the door closed with a click and countered her light-hearted air from the race with a methodical determination. He was simmering with something different, something more sensual and pulse-building and wanted her to feel it. He moved his arms purposefully around her, pinning her to the closed bathroom door.
He took her lips lightly with his.
“I’m going to touch you, Flee…” He opened his mouth slightly as he nibbled on hers. “All over.”
She blushed beet red.
“Mmm…smooth. Your skin is so smooth.” Her words followed her hand, moving up his chest and neck.
“Not all of it.” Michael rubbed his grizzled chin against her palm when she touched his face. Though his body was relatively hairless, his face was not. He hadn’t shaved since the morning. Her gaze settled into the simmer he already felt.
His hands flowed over her. They instinctively knew where to go to pleasure her but teasingly did not as he kissed her, open-mouthed. He leaned onto the door, his weight on one hand. He slid his other hand between their bodies, palm to his stomach so the smooth of the back of his hand brushed her belly. It was ever so slightly distended from the meal they had eaten. He rubbed his chin stubble to her neck and then kissed her roughly. At that moment, he eased his hand upward and gripped her breast.
The soft supple roundness to her breast was perfect. Just the right size. He cupped and squeezed it, unable to resist letting his thumb brush against the nipple. It swelled to his glancing touch. He rolled it between his thumb and finger, watching her close her eyes. He moaned against her ear and heard her breath catch.
Shifting his body even closer to her, he rubbed his belly against her, feeling her soft skin and taut nipples against his bare chest. He reached behind her and grabbed her ass.
Her eyes fluttered open.
“Your pert little ass is cold but not even pink, is it, Flee?” he said after he tipped his head to look behind her. Though it had been so lightly spanked earlier, no signs of reddening remained apart from the flush on her face. He squeezed her cheek, fingers toying close to the center. He kissed her tenderly and felt a shiver roll into her.
She rubbed her bottom against his hand as her hands splayed on his back. He loved the way she massaged the muscles under his shoulder blades. She was pressed against the door for support as he kissed his way down her neck, mouthing and nibbling. Her eyes opened. He followed her gaze and turned to see she had been looking at his ass in the mirror across the room. His legs were spread enough to match closer to her height, giving her more of a show. That brought a smile to his lips, soon to vanish when she kissed him.
He tasted the salt of her skin and mix of the spices left on their pallets from dinner. The scent of tandoori and wine lingered. The luscious tastes and smells added to his hunger.
Her cold-skinned shiver stopped him. He broke from the fire of their embrace.
He blasted the shower, and they stepped in, hot spray hitting their bodies. The warmth of the water sent them to a dreamy, sweeter place. There was almost an innocence to their touches as they actually cleaned each other. The banter of the evening transformed into murmurs, tender exploration, and with it, a newly building sensuality.
His moans were soft and slow as he lathered her hair. He massaged her scalp, letting the lather slide down her neck and back. He watched it, fingers playing with it. He let the water wash the lather from her hair. The creaminess of the conditioner had him pulling closer to her, sliding the gel not just in her hair, which was darkened by the water, but over her breasts, her nipples. Her coo gave voice to her pleasure.
“Flee… You feel wonderful, Paige,” he whispered, her nickname and real name interspersed.
“Mmm, you do, too, Michael.” She had found a puffy sponge and filled it with a luxurious soap. She turned toward him and drew the sponge down his chest. He relished the feel of the squishing sponge sliding down his front, leaving a trail of eucalyptus-mint scented suds. As she squeezed the spongy loofah, it spilled sudsy water of glistening warmth. It felt erotic. Slow and pulsingly erotic. Each stroke elicited moans from them.
He took the loofah from her, filling it again, and tilted his head. “My turn, Flee.” He drew out her name in sigh.
He stood back enough so she couldn’t touch him but could only feel the heated spray of the water. Her hands moved to cover her pussy as she faced him. He stepped closer and positioned each of her hands on the corner walls behind her.
He rolled thick suds over the front of her beautifully formed naked body, savoring the sight. He trailed the sponge over her arms, her neck, and down her underarms and sides. Slowly. Carefully, wickedly slowly. He added more soap and washed down her outer legs and up her inner thighs. With a squeeze of the sponge over her mound, the suds intoxicatingly trickled down between her legs and over her clit.
He exhaled at the visual of her soaked body undulating before him. It sent a bolt straight into him, hardening his dick into an almost painful thickness. His balls tightened. He wanted to touch, to taste, to drive into her then and there.
With a groan, her hands flew from the wall to his waist and chest. The sponge dropped to the floor of the shower, and his finger slid deep inside of her tender folds. His tongue plundered inside her mouth with a lust-filled hunger as his finger pulled out and sawed back into her pussy. She responded with a bursting passionate kiss, breaking only to breathe in a deep lungful of eucalyptus-filled air.
“I want to be here,” he said. “Deep inside you, Paige.”
“Yes. Please. Now. Oh, Michael.”
He could tell she was on the edge. Her pussy pulsed with slickness as he touched her. He knew he needed her wet for him to fit inside her, especially since shower water could wash away her own moisture.
Paige scrambled to help him tear the packet he’d placed close at hand. The task was derailed when she took his hardness in her hands and soaped his length. He arched into the wall and her body as she pumped him. Whatever demure shyness she had vanished as she watched her hands move on him.
“Flee…stop…” He pulled her hands from his cock
and took several breaths while he unfurled the condom on his throbbing erection.
She looked at him. And he at her. Water cascaded over her front and his back. Time stopped. It was a fraction of a minute, a second, the image emblazed in his memory.
Her moan broke the stillness. He cupped her face and kissed her deeply, one hand pulling her tender body tight to him. Instinctively, her foot rose to the lip of shower ridge, opening herself to him. He rubbed his shaft against her hungry pussy, her own natural moisture only slightly diminished by the flow of water. His other hand never left her face, and the pressure of his grasp pulled her gaze to his.
He gave a questioning tilt to his head. She responded with the tiniest nod. With that, he thrust upward into her. His shaft drove part way into her core.
Her eyes opened wide with her sighed groan. “Oh.”
He was controlled. Had to be. Ever so agonizingly slowly, he rocked and moved deeper into her. With each stroke, he moaned in her ear. Her body relaxed and joined in the building rhythm, accommodating him more and more.
“Yes…mmmmmm.”
Her coos made him lose just that edge of control. He finally drove all the way in, lodging himself inside her. He kissed and bit her neck, muffling his groan into a growl.
Soon that urgency of raw need propelled him to the lunging strokes he craved. Words were uttered. He thrust deep within her, flesh locked to flesh. She accepted him. More than that, her body pressed skin to skin, rocking again and again. He bucked into her, driving them both to crest of an achingly bursting crescendo. He exploded inside of her with a white-hot eruption, losing any sense of self.
She cried out with a long and visceral cry, her body arched into him and her pussy twitching and clenched tight on him. She shook and nearly fell. He held her until awareness crept back into both of them. Soft kisses caught water from the spray of the showerhead.
“Wow, Flee. If I didn’t know better, I would think we need another shower after this.”
Paige let out a laugh, breathless, already re-soaping her skin as he did the same, this time washing his own hair.
Their movements were slow and relaxed. They floated, still flushed, they accepted each other’s kisses and touching little pecks. He finally turned off the water and helped her step from the shower. She dried herself in long sweeping movements before tucking a fluffy towel around her.
“Hey, Amelia, Squealia, got noisy again, didn’t you?” He wrapped himself in the terrycloth robe.
She giggled, suddenly not minding the nickname at all. Maybe that Michael was the one to cause the squealing or simply that coming from him made the nickname more of an endearment. Yep, might have had something to do with it.
Chapter Ten
The sound of the blow-dryer muffled Michael’s words when he left the bathroom. Had they ended with something like “love you” or “loved this?” Both rang true, but Paige would not admit that to herself. She stepped from the bathroom, her hair feeling fluffy, returning to its normal fullness. She expected to sink into the bed with him or at least cuddle.
She did not expect what she saw. Groundhog Man grousing, wearing jeans and pulling on a sweater, mumbling about computer failure preventing reports and re-doing something.
“Sorry, Paige. Any chance you can run downstairs and get me a coffee? Looks like a not-so-pleasant birthday surprise.”
She didn’t object to his having to complete the work late at night. She had been driven like that before and quickly stepped into sidekick mode, something Davis never did for her nor did she ever need to for him. She found a blouse in the bag she’d confiscated from her car but unfortunately, no pants. She reached into his luggage, stole his sweat pants, and rolled up the bottoms.
After a quick trip downstairs, she returned, holding out a large coffee cup. “It might not be too hot. I put milk in it. Hope that’s okay.”
He said his thanks and gave her the briefest non-inviting smile before returning to the keyboard and swilling the coffee. Though she had already slipped into the velvet chair, he mumbled toward where she previously stood, never taking his eyes from the screen. “Looks like I can’t take off all of tomorrow as I’d hoped. Maybe part of it. I need to get this out to circumvent a two-week delay for the team.”
“Uh huh. At least you got a shower in. Besides, afterglow’s not what it’s cracked up to be these days, right?” she teased.
“Right…right, right. Can’t believe this crap happened,” he said, clicking away, headphones on. Then he swore and his fingers flew. The reflected light from his computer screen showed a mix of frustration and angst on his face. She knew that look. Not from Davis, who was anything but hardworking. She knew that look from her father. It was definitely one that said, “leave me alone.” So, she did.
Paige tucked her cold feet under her on the chair and pulled out her cell phone, which she had silenced during dinner. More messages and texts. Didn’t they know she was in hiding? She deleted texts from Davis readily and answered others. She gave reassurances to a few worried girlfriends, assuring them she would call after settling in on her family project with her aunt. She felt a twinge of guilt at avoiding long explanations, but it felt so comforting to hide away with her Groundhog Man.
Her man? She shook that thought away or at least shoved it aside when she put her phone to her ear to hear her last voice message.
“Hey Sis, Davis Greer called looking for you. Sorry about losing your job and some special vacation. For what it’s worth, Davis is a nice guy, but a bit young if you know what I mean. So, uh, call if you need something. Otherwise, find a spot and job before Dad makes his little girl move back home. And no, not ratting you out to Dad or Davis. That’s your job, Paiging Amelia Squealia. Haaa haa. Love ya, Sis.
“Love you too, bro,” she whispered to her phone, silencing it and putting it aside.
Her cold toes stole her attention. She tiptoed to Michael’s suitcase and found his last pair of socks. She thought trade-sies were in order. She wrote out a note, signed it, and slipped it deep into his luggage. In doing so, her hand hit on a bottle of wine with a screw top that looked like a racing gearshift.
With a soft chuckle, she pulled it from his luggage. He had his work plans. She would have her own plans for the rest of the night—warm toes, TV, and a sip of red. She settled in, watching the last of a movie, toes wiggling, sipping wine.
At midnight, the clock radio popped back to life, the announcer’s voice overpowering the TV. “Almost midnight. Last time for this song today…”
Paige turned off the television and stood more shakily than intended. She gave in to the replaying of I Got You, Babe, softly singing and dancing along with it. She smiled and looked at Groundhog Man, her voice rising in song. She told herself not to divert his attention. He had to get on with work.
Then it all hit her at once. It’s over tomorrow. This magical storm-induced mini-heaven tucked away in a bed and breakfast is over tomorrow. Her face went slack.
She hadn’t realized Michael was watching her, but he must have read something in her expression. He pulled off his headphones and joined her in the song.
Taking her free hand, Groundhog Man sang, “Then put your little hand in mine.”
Her smile returned at his silliness, and she reached for the wine. She sang further lines of the next verse into the bottle like a microphone.
They took turns with the next phrase of the song. Her Groundhog sang the last bit in what must have been his real voice, ending with a whispered word, “Babe.”
The announcer’s voice came on, “Well that’s it folks. Groundhog Day is over. Hope you all had a great one, and if not, there’s always next—”
She clicked off the clock radio and brushed away a tear. “But we don’t.”
“We don’t what, Flee?”
She didn’t answer. Emotion clogged her throat.
He moved closer and looked at the wine bottle she held. Touching her arm, he turned the bottle. The label read, “Stop Running Away, Caber
net.”
He pulled it gently from her hand and put it down. “You were drinking that? I bought it when you were parking your car and hid it. It’s my housewarming gift for you.”
Her words slurred slightly, “Yesh. Why not? It says to stop running away, but it has a twist cap like a gear shift. Encouraging just the opposite.” She pulled away slightly. “Vacation’s over tomorrow. It’s all over, Michael. You have work. I was just a diversion. Your rebound lover. I don’t have you to ‘love me so.’ What was I thinking? I can’t handle a one-night stand.”
Paige bit hard on her lip to keep from crying.
“Huh? Oh Flee, no. That’s not true.” He gingerly brushed back her hair. “No, not one night. We are two nights going on who knows how long.”
“And that’s better, how?”
“It’s better because we keep going,” he said, gently moving in close.
She pulled away abruptly and unsteadily. Slurred words flew out. “Do you have any idea how many times…we—” Paige’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Made love?” Her voice picked up in volume. “You’re just loving me and leaving me. Did you see the time? Midnight. You’re Michael now. No more Groundhog Man. You disappear. It sucks. It all sucks. Shouldn’t have feelings. Not supposed to happen. Not now.”
Michael was quiet.
Paige didn’t know what to make of his silent observation. She sat heavily on the bed and cried. “Michael, I just had a one-night stand in a hotel. What does that make me?”
“Shh, Flee.” He sat beside her on the bed and brushed a tear from her face. He tried to lighten her mood. “It’s a B and B.” She almost smiled, but her sob caught, so he continued, “There’s a big difference, one is more homey and friendly.” He gave a reassuring smile and tried nudge her out of her funk.
She stared at him.
His arm slid around her. “Technically, we had a two-night stand. You’re in the clear.” He pulled her close to him.
“Clear? I am clear as mud. Snowy, icy, muddled-up mud, clinging to a stranger who is my lover from who knows where. It dawned on me that you traveled here, to this area. That means you don’t live near here.”
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