by Noelle Adams
She needed a release now more than she had before.
She needed Steve more.
When she’d caught her breath, she managed to straighten up and look around her mostly neat bedroom.
She could do some work on one of her course projects. That’s what she should do.
She shouldn’t do something else, something like lie around and fantasize about Steve and what she wanted him to do to her right now.
She ignored the inappropriate urges as she toed off her shoes and flopped down on her bed with her phone. She checked her email and rolled her eyes when she saw an email from her father with all kinds of advice about what she should be doing to make herself more marketable after she finished her degree. Then she tried to distract herself on social media, but it didn’t work.
The restlessness just got worse.
She wondered what would have happened if she’d kissed Steve down on the sidewalk. If he’d kissed her.
She wondered what would have happened if Steve had seen her with Brent and gotten jealous about it.
That was a better fantasy—far less conflicted with real-life emotions.
He would have seen her flirting with Brent and then been waiting for her to return to the apartment. He would have been bristling with resentment and entitlement—the way Michelle had seen Lucas bristle over Jill more than once before they’d gotten together, when she was dating someone else.
Steve didn’t bristle—ever—but she imagined him doing it anyway. She imagined him confronting her all angry and possessive. Maybe he’d trap her against the wall with his body and demand to know what she’d been doing with another man.
She would snap back at him—even in her fantasies she couldn’t let Steve get the upper hand—and they’d argue for a few minutes.
But it wouldn’t be one of their normal arguments.
It would be hot.
Arousal would be pulsing right under the surface of it.
And they wouldn’t have sweet, gentle makeup sex like they always had when they were together. It would be wild.
They would fuck like animals, still half angry at each other.
Michelle groaned and put down her phone.
This was ridiculous. She was just torturing herself.
She needed to cool down.
She made herself get up off the bed and go to her bathroom, which was connected to her room. She peeled off her clothes and turned the shower on, adjusting the handle so the water was much cooler than she normally preferred.
She got in and shivered for a minute.
She couldn’t stand the cold for longer than that, so she readjusted the temperature to make it warmer.
Then she gave up and made it really hot the way she liked it.
She sighed as the water beat down on her and tried to relax her body.
That was a mistake. She started to imagine things again.
Steve all feral and possessive as he fucked her hard against the wall. Then he’d turn her around, bend her over with her hands planted on the wall, and he’d take her from behind.
He’d take her hard, rough. She’d be sobbing from the pleasure of it, so loudly it could be heard down the hall.
Then other people would know how wild and sexy she really was.
She wasn’t just a quiet, boring, self-conscious smart girl who always worried about disappointing people.
She was just as sexy as anyone else.
Michelle imagined in such detail and with such intensity that her body ached with it. Her breasts felt like they were swelling, straining, and arousal pulsed between her legs. The hot water beat down on her body, flushing her skin, relaxing her muscles.
She tried to resist, but she couldn’t.
With a resigned groan, she slid her hand between her legs and started to rub.
She moaned as she massaged her clit and kept imagining being fucked hard. Steve was doing such amazing things to her body. He was so fierce and demanding. She kept rubbing, getting into it so much that her whole body shaking and her breasts jiggling wantonly, and she started to make little sounds as the pleasure coalesced into a wave.
She came, moaning long and low as the pleasure saturated her body.
She finally dropped her hands, panting loudly.
She stood under the spray for a long time after she’d finished, letting her muscles soften and the lingering spasms work their way through her.
But her body felt good.
Really good.
And only a little embarrassed.
There was nothing wrong with getting herself off when she needed it, and she shouldn’t still feel like there was.
When she finally got out of the shower, she dried off and changed into a pair of sweats and an oversized T-shirt since she wasn’t planning to go out again. She climbed onto her bed and covered up with a throw blanket.
She picked up her phone and replied to a text from Chloe and then dropped her phone on her bed.
She’d needed that orgasm. Her body felt wonderfully relaxed now. None of that torturous tension and restlessness remaining.
She put down her phone and closed her eyes.
Maybe one day things would change. Maybe one day she could be the person she wanted to be. Maybe one day she’d be with a man who could make her feel even better than she could make herself feel.
She wanted that.
Her heart didn’t have what it needed in this, but at least her body did. She was tired and sated and comfortable.
She accidentally fell asleep.
Three
THE NEXT DAY, MICHELLE felt better.
She’d made the right decision about Steve. She felt better about herself now than she had the last couple of months she’d been with Steve—when it had felt like he was seeing in her a person she could never be. It was natural that she’d have lingering feelings for him, since in no way was he a bad guy, but gradually those feelings would fade.
It would take some time, but she’d get over him.
She’d find her real self.
Then maybe she’d find a man who wanted the woman she wanted to be.
If not, she’d still be happy.
She had a leisurely morning, hanging out in the apartment and doing a little work on her laptop in bed. She’d put her computer away and was thinking about going out for a walk when her phone rang.
It was Chloe, and she sounded urgent when Michelle greeted her. “Michelle, thank God. I need some help.”
Michelle sat up straight on the bed. “What’s the matter?”
“I... I’ve had an accident. It’s hard to explain. But I need some help. Can you come over?”
“Of course. I’ll come right now.”
“Are Steve and Lucas around? Strong men would be helpful.”
Worried and bewildered, Michelle jumped off the bed and hurried over to slide her soft, fur-lined boots on. She wore leggings and an oversized top like normal, so she didn’t need to put on different clothes. “Jill and Lucas have been out all day. I’m not sure where they are. But Steve is here.”
“I’m sorry to ask, but do you think you can bring him?”
“Of course I can. We’ll be over in a few.”
Michelle disconnected the call after Chloe thanked her, and then she hurried down the hall to Steve’s bedroom. His door was closed, so she knocked on it.
“Yeah.”
She swung it open. He was stretched out on his bed, his laptop on his thighs. He wore flannel pants and an old T-shirt, and he’d clearly been having the same kind of day she’d had.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, closing his laptop and straightening up.
“I don’t know. Chloe called and said she needed help. She said it was hard to explain, but strong men would be helpful. She wanted me to bring you and Lucas, but Lucas isn’t here—”
Steve was already on his feet, pulling off his flannel pants and pulling on a pair of old jeans as she watched. “Did she sound all right?”
“I think so. She di
dn’t sound hurt. Just upset.”
Steve buttoned his fly and stuffed his feet into his shoes. “Let’s go.”
As they left the apartment, Michelle felt a swell of appreciation for Steve. He really was a good guy. And no matter how frustrating her lingering feelings for him were, she was glad he was in her life.
When they walked out into the hall, Michelle said, “I really hope she’s okay. She—”
She broke off the thought when she realized Brent was in the hall, looking big and rough and oddly incongruent with three bags of groceries hooked on one arm.
“Hey,” he said, giving her a little smile.
“Hi.”
He must have heard what she’d said as she closed the door because, after scanning their faces, Brent asked, “Is everything all right?”
“Yeah. I think so. My friend just called and sounded like she was in some sort of trouble.” Michelle paused as her eyes ran up and down Brent’s big body.
Strong men.
Chloe said she could use strong men.
Without thinking it through, Michelle continued, “You don’t happen to be free right now, do you?”
Brent blinked. “Yeah. I’m not doing anything.”
“My friend said she could use some strong guys.”
Brent had very nice brown eyes, and they were sober as they rested on her face. “You want me to come with you?”
“I know it’s strange coming from a stranger. She just sounded upset. It’s totally fine if—”
“Sure. I’ll come.” Brent unlocked his apartment door and walked in with his groceries. In less than two minutes, he came back out. “I’m ready.”
“Thank you.” Michelle glanced over at Steve, but he wasn’t looking at her. She usually could tell what he was thinking just by a brief glance at his face, but she couldn’t read it right now and it was strange. Unnerving.
She shrugged it off because Chloe was upset about something.
Chloe lived with her parents in a comfortable, established neighborhood in the north of town. It took just six or seven minutes to get there in weekend traffic, and the driveway was empty when they pulled in.
Chloe’s parents must not be home.
Michelle jumped out of the car as soon as Steve put it into park and ran up the front walk to bang on the door. Steve and Brent were standing behind her when Chloe opened the door.
She looked fine. That was Michelle’s first conclusion. Her brown hair was a wild mess around her face and shoulders, and her dark eyes were slightly red, like she might have been crying. But her small, curvy body was intact and uninjured.
“Thank you,” Chloe said, her voice filled with emotion. “I’m so glad you could—” She frowned when her eyes landed on Brent. “Who are you?”
“This is Brent,” Michelle explained. “He’s housesitting for The Suit, and he was nice enough to come with us.”
“Oh, thank you. I can use all the help I can get.”
Chloe stepped aside, letting them into the house. Then she pointed dramatically into the office/den space that opened up just to the left of the entry hall.
The three of them stood in the entrance and gazed into the room.
Michelle had been over to visit Chloe here many times. She knew what the office was supposed to look like. Chloe’s dad was a professor at Tech, and his home office had a big desk of dark wood and wall-to-wall bookshelves along the back wall. The office always looked neat and cozy and comfortable, like an old-fashioned library.
Now, however, all the bookshelves were no longer upright against the wall. They’d fallen down, two onto the floor, one on a side chair, and one onto the desk. There were books everywhere, all over the floor and desk and chairs.
“Oh my God,” Michelle breathed. “What happened?”
“I don’t know! I wasn’t even in the room. I just heard a loud crash that scared the shit out of me, and then I came to find this.”
Steve was already trying to climb over the mess and between the shelves so he could get to the back wall. He reached up to a large hole in the plaster. “It looks like the shelves were bolted to the wall and they pulled out. I’m not sure why they’d be so front heavy though.”
“My dad likes all the books to be lined up with the front of the shelves. Maybe that put too much weight at the front.”
“The bolts should have held though.” Steve was bending over one of the bookshelves, reaching over for a bolt that was sticking out of the back of it.
Chloe gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. “It’s my fault.”
Steve straightened up. “How could it be your fault?”
“I borrowed a couple of my dad’s books a few weeks ago, and I just put them back an hour or two ago. I threw the weight off!”
Michelle went over to give her friend a half hug. “It can’t possibly your fault. Weren’t the books on the shelves before?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Then it wasn’t your fault. It was an accident. It’s no one’s fault.”
“Who did the shelves?” Steve asked.
“I don’t know. Some guy my dad knows, I think.”
“Whoever did the shelves only used one bolt, and I’m not even sure if they got it in a stud. He must have been an idiot to secure it that way with this many books on the shelves. It’s that person’s fault.” Steve was studying the hole in the wall with clear disapproval.
Michelle knew that Steve was pretty good doing odd jobs around the apartment, but she hadn’t known he really knew what he was doing. His T-shirt was worn thin and hugged his shoulders and back, highlighting the width of them, the strong lines and contours. And his jeans were just about as old, stretching against his tight butt and firm thighs. He was frowning and shaking his head.
A wave of heat washed over her. A carnal kind of heat but not purely sexual. Almost biological. Instinctive.
Like this man was hers.
Shaking off the irrational response, she turned to Chloe. “So you want us to help you clean this mess up?”
“Yes, if you wouldn’t mind. My dad loves these books. I don’t want him to come back and find them like this.”
“The shelves look all right,” Brent said. He’d come into the room too and was inspecting the situation. “I don’t think they’ve busted, so he’ll be able to keep using them.”
“We just need to make sure they’re properly bolted to the wall, and then we’ll need to push the books farther back on the shelves so they’re not so front heavy.” Steve looked from Michelle to Chloe. “I’ve got tools in my trunk. I can take care of it.”
Michelle experienced another one of those primitive waves of feeling. Attraction. Appreciation. Trust. Ownership. Hunger.
Shit, what the hell was the matter with her? He wasn’t doing anything special. He wasn’t even looking unusually sexy.
He was just...
Steve. Only more so.
“Thank you so much!” Chloe was rubbing her eyes and smiling. “My parents won’t be back until tonight. I’d love to have everything back in place and fixed by then.”
“I’ll talk care of it,” Steve said.
Michelle had to turn her back to him. If she didn’t, she might just go over and rub her hands all over his body, rub her body up against his.
And that would be very inappropriate.
He was her ex.
He wasn’t hers anymore.
She walked over to Brent to distract herself, touching him lightly on the arm. “You really don’t have to stay and deal with all this. I’m sure you have other things to do today.”
“Nothing major.” He smiled at her over his thick beard. “I don’t mind.”
“Thank you so much.”
Brent’s eyes moved from Michelle’s face to something over her shoulder, and his smile faded slightly. Turning to look for the reason, Michelle saw nothing but Chloe, looking particularly curvy in her stretch jeans and tank top.
“All right,” Michelle said. “Let’s get started then.�
�
IF MICHELLE DIDN’T stop touching that lumberjack soon, Steve was going to have to hit him.
Seriously.
Hit the guy in his obnoxious, bearded face.
He had no business letting Michelle touch his arm, his back that way.
And what was Michelle even thinking? She didn’t know this guy. Steve would have been just fine taking care of the situation on his own.
They worked for a couple of hours, lifting the bookshelves upright and stacking up the books in as close to the original order as they could do. Steve found the studs in the wall and then bolted the shelves securely in several places. Then together they started to reshelve the books.
Chloe’s father would have to go through and fix the organization, but at least he could do it with the books on the shelves rather than littered all over the floor.
Steve liked to do jobs like this. He liked to do something with his hands that tasked his brain very little. It was why he enjoyed working with plants in the dirt so much. It was comfortable, simple, filled him with a pleasant sense of accomplishment. He actually would have enjoyed the afternoon if it hadn’t been for Brent and his ridiculous hugeness and his too-long beard and the way he let Michelle touch him.
Steve stewed about it all afternoon.
He didn’t say anything. He managed not to even snarl about it. He wasn’t going to act like some sort of caveman, and Lucas had been right yesterday when he said that it wouldn’t be fair to Michelle.
So Steve kept his simmering resentment to himself like a good boy.
He always tried to be good—particularly around Michelle. She’d always liked when he was gentle and careful with her, so that was what he’d always tried to be.
She wouldn’t like him like this. Brimming with possessiveness and resentment.
He had to keep it under control.
He didn’t have to like it though.
And he didn’t.
He hated it.
It was wrong in the basest, most fundamental way.
Michelle was his. She’d always been his. He’d wanted her to be his wife, the mother of his children. She shouldn’t be touching and smiling at some other guy.
By five o’clock, they’d finished the job, and the office looked neat and put together again. The only real difference was that the books were pushed to the back of the shelves rather than lined up at the front.
