Trouble

by Ann Christopher

  “Let’s go.” He checked his watch. “Our reservation’s at eight.”

  “Not tonight.” She brushed past him on her way back to the living room. “I really need to study.”

  Mike was right on her heels. “Is there a problem you’d like to discuss?”

  She shoved her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and sulkily watched him. Had he gone to lunch with Lisa? Had they made plans for one night this week? Her heart twisted into sickening knots at the thought.

  Still, she had no intention of letting him know she was jealous. Her mother had trained her better than to wear her heart on her sleeve. She and Mike had no claims on each other, and, like Antonio before him, he’d certainly made her no promises.

  “No.” She attempted a smile that made her cheeks hurt. “No problem.”

  He glowered, yanking his arms out of his coat and throwing it across the chair.

  “Cut the sullen, passive-aggressive crap, Dara,” he snapped. “If we’re going to be together, we need to figure out a way to work these things out. We had plans for tonight, and I’m not going to let you ruin them like this. Tell me what the problem is!”

  “Oh, all right!” she exploded, marching up to stand in his face. “Who’s your little friend? You sure you don’t want to spend tonight with her?”

  Mike sighed but held her gaze. “Lisa is a law school classmate of mine and a woman I occasionally hook up with.”

  “‘Occasionally?’” she cried, astonished that he hadn’t bothered to deny or at least sugarcoat it. “Well, when was the last occasion?”

  His jaw tightened. “About a week before I met you.”

  “Right.”

  He snatched her arm, pulling her up against him. “Yeah, right! I haven’t had sex with her—or anybody else—in months, because, in case you haven’t noticed, the only person I want to have sex with is you!”

  “But you’re not having sex with me!” Dara shouted, jerking her arm free.

  “All in good time. Until then, I can wait.”

  Slightly mollified, Dara took a deep breath and tried not to pout.

  Mike watched her, one brow raised.

  “Why was she there today?” Dara asked because she couldn’t help herself. “Did you call her?”

  Mike’s lips twisted with annoyance. “No, I didn’t call her! She showed up wanting to get together, I listened politely, wishing she was you, and then I sent her on her way, wondering what I’d ever seen in her to begin with! What kind of a jerk do you take me for?”

  Dizzy with sudden relief, Dara rubbed a hand over her pounding heart.

  “Well ...You and I just started dating, and we never said we were exclusive, so—”

  “Bullshit.” His harsh voice was like a slap across her face.

  She flinched, too stunned to argue.

  “I’d never expect you to sleep with me if you thought there were other women, so let’s clear this up right now. There’s nobody else, and there won’t be anybody else as long as we’re together. Do you understand me?”

  Somehow she nodded.

  “And before I forget, I just loaded up on condoms. For me and you. But not until you’re ready. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she said, her head spinning.

  “Let’s get something else straight.” Muscles flexed in his jaw and his eyes glinted dangerously. “I want you, and I don’t share what’s mine.”

  “Am I yours?” she asked breathlessly, thrilled.

  He paused, his cheeks flushing. “Yes.”

  She moved to touch him, but he stepped back and held his hands up.

  “Don’t get too excited. I don’t like you spending so much time with Sean.”

  “Why? You know I’m not attracted to him like that.” Why would Mike ever feel annoyed by something as harmless as her friendship with his brother? Surely, he didn’t expect her to just dump Sean as a friend.

  “Let me ask you something,” he said, giving her a pointed look. “Would you want me spending a lot of time with Lisa when you know she wants to sleep with me?”

  The idea nearly made Dara’s head explode right off her shoulders. “Of course not!”

  “Exactly.” He stroked her cheek, smoothing her ruffled feathers. “And that’s why I sent her packing today.”

  A lightbulb finally went on over her head. A giant, lighthouse-sized lightbulb.

  She would have to tone things way down with Sean.

  “I get it.”

  She stepped forward into Mike’s arms, clinging tightly to his neck. He held her close enough that she could hear his heart thundering.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I don’t like to fight.”

  He rained kisses all over her face. “Neither do I.” Smoothing back her hair, he smiled with open relief. “But sometimes we’ll have to fight, right? That’s how it goes. We’ll get through it. What I can’t get through is you pushing me away or pretending nothing’s wrong.”

  “We both need to do better in that area, don’t we?”

  “Fair enough.”

  With peace restored in the kingdom, things should’ve been great. But a surge of panic hit her out of nowhere, worse even than the panic she’d felt when she’d thought Mike preferred Lisa to her.

  Her feelings for him were so overwhelming, she felt absolutely helpless to control them. How would she ever recover if things didn’t work out?

  Feeling awkward, she backed up a couple of steps.

  “What is it?” he asked, his keen eyes seeing everything as usual. “Tell me.”

  She rubbed her heart again, struggling to put the way she felt into words.

  Just as she’d feared, he’d taken over her every thought. At times he seemed to read her mind. She depended on his support at work and with school and with ...everything. He made her laugh; he made her body sing.

  And he could walk out on her tomorrow and blow her heart to smithereens.

  The vast power he had over every aspect of her life terrified her.

  “Sometimes ...I get so scared about ...what’s between us.”

  His expression softened and he nodded with perfect understanding.

  “I know.” He held his hand out. “Let’s hang in there, anyway.”

  Nodding, relieved, she took his hand and held on for dear life.

  One night later that week, Mike couldn’t sleep. So at around two, he slipped on his pants and a T-shirt and let himself out onto Dara’s balcony, which overlooked a small patch of woods. Breathing deeply in the frigid air, he braced his hands on the railing.

  He’d talked to Mama earlier. She sounded weak and dispirited. Her chemotherapy was generally going well, although she tired easily. She was—big freaking surprise—worried about Sean, who’d told her he didn’t like his internship. He’d also apparently told her again about his unrequited love for Dara, so now she was worried about that, too. And Mike felt guiltier than ever because the last few days with Dara had been the best of his life, bar none.

  Now that he was in it this deep, he had no intention of giving her up—not for his mother, not for Sean.

  Not for anyone.

  The other reason he couldn’t sleep was his continued money woes with the firm. He’d finally authorized the roof replacement. Little did the roofers know, he had no idea how he’d pay for it once they finished. Most likely he’d charge it on a credit card, same as always.

  Maybe he’d overextended when he’d bought the brownstone so soon after opening the firm, but he didn’t want to pay rent forever. The building had been a steal and was in one of the up-and-coming sections of downtown. No, it’d been a good investment of his inheritance from his father. He’d just have to work a little harder, bill a few more hours here and there. That was another part of his life that was going exceedingly well now, thanks to Dara. They’d made it a habit to do their work together every night, and he’d discovered that when Dara was with him, he could settle down and work.

  Shivering a little, he turned to go back inside,
but the French door swung open, and Dara, looking deliciously tousled with her rumpled hair and loosely belted robe, appeared. She came to stand beside him and peered over the rail.

  “Brrr,” she said, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. “The bed was too warm and comfy for you, I take it?”

  He stood behind her and pulled her back against him for warmth. She gratefully snuggled closer. “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Why?”

  “Worried about Mama. Worried about the firm.”

  “And worrying about things at two in the morning solves ...what, exactly?”

  “Nothing.”

  “The doctors said your mother’s doing good. But you know she’s got to go through the chemotherapy to come out the other side. That’s all there is to it.”

  He nodded and kissed the top of her head. “I know. But I don’t want her to suffer.”

  “I know. But she was blessed to discover the cancer before it spread to other parts of her body, and she’s blessed to have health insurance to pay for all this.” She twisted around to face him. “And she’s blessed to have you to lean on. I already told you that, right?”

  Just like that, he breathed easier. Whenever Dara was with him, he felt his worries shrink down to a manageable size. She was such a commonsense, practical person. And he didn’t know what he would do without her.

  Which was why he wasn’t giving her up for anyone.

  He kissed her forehead. “You take all the fun out of a good worry.”

  Smiling, she laid her head on his chest. “Yeah, well, there’s always climate change.”

  He was still laughing when she stepped away, tugging his hand toward the door.

  “Come to bed. You’ve got a full day of worrying tomorrow.”

  Late the following Sunday afternoon, Mike reached into the paper bag containing apple cider, caramel apples and other assorted items from the farmer’s market he and Dara had visited earlier and produced a bag of bumpy squash.

  “What’re these again?”

  “Gourds,” Dara said.

  “What’s a gourd?”

  She took off her fleece jacket and tossed it on the table. “It’s a decorative squash.”

  “Can you eat them?”

  “No,” she said, laughing. “Hence the word ‘decorative.’”

  “And I need gourds because ...?”

  “Good grief!” Rummaging in the cabinets, she found a glass bowl, dumped the gourds in it and placed the bowl in the middle of the kitchen table. “What are you going to be like at Christmas?”

  “I won’t be having any damn gourds, that’s for sure,” he grumbled, experimentally tapping one on the counter.

  “Voilà!” She held her hand out with a flourish. “Now you’re ready for Thanksgiving!”

  He raised one unenthusiastic eyebrow. “Great. You’re still making me a pumpkin pie, though, right?”

  “Yes, you poor baby.”

  He grinned. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  From her perch on a bar stool, she watched as he efficiently put away the groceries and lit a fire in the adjoining great room fireplace.

  It’s time.

  The thought popped into her head with no corresponding fear—only absolute certainty. She knew they were in love, even though they’d never said the words. She knew he wasn’t seeing anyone else and wouldn’t. She knew she could trust him.

  “Where should we go for dinner?” he asked, striding back into the kitchen.

  “It’s raining. Let’s stay in.”

  “Yeah, good idea.” He opened a drawer and removed a handful of take-out menus. “Chinese. Indian. Pizza. Which one?”

  “Oh, I don’t—”

  He opened the refrigerator door and leaned down inside, considering. “Or I could grill those steaks—”

  “Nah,” she said.

  Mike straightened and looked over his shoulder at her, one hand still on the door. “Well, what do you want?”

  Dara took a deep breath and leapt into the unknown.

  “I want to make love in front of the fire.”

  Mike froze, a muscle throbbing visibly in the strong column of his throat.

  “Don’t play, Dara,” he said hoarsely, letting the fridge door slam.

  “I’m not playing. I’m ready.”

  He looked away and ran a shaky hand over the top of his head. “I don’t want to rush you, sweetheart. I can wait as long—”

  “I’m tired of waiting,” she said impatiently.

  “Are you sure? Because—”

  Incredulous, she shook her head. “I really never thought it would be this hard to get you to have sex with me!”

  “Neither did I.” Rounding the counter and taking her hand, he pulled her up and led her to the great room, where the roaring fire crackled and danced. “Come here.”

  14

  After grabbing a condom and rejoining her in the living room, Mike almost didn’t know where to start. He’d envisioned this moment in high-def detail so many times the choices nearly overwhelmed him. In theory, he should go slowly and gently this first time with Dara. In reality, he’d lived for this moment for so long he doubted he’d be able to control himself. What should he do first? Slide his fingers through her thick and fragrant hair? Stroke her sex? Dive for her breasts, her butt, her legs? Overwhelming indecision locked him up tight. He stared down at her sweet face for a long moment, paralyzed by his determination to make this perfect for her, but when he saw those shining eyes, it was all, suddenly, okay.

  Shaking his head, he touched her face. “Do you know how much I want you?”

  Her big baby browns smiled at him. “Almost as much as I want you.”

  Yeah, okay. Game over. Gentle was definitely off the table.

  Groaning, he leaned in for a kiss that was hot, wet and deep. Frenzied.

  Dara locked her arms around his neck and ran her fingers through his hair, caressing his nape and massaging his shoulders. Then she found the buttons on the front of his heavy cotton shirt, broke the kiss and looked down at the endless row. Her shaky hands fumbled with the first couple of buttons and her accusatory gaze flicked up to his.

  “Don’t you own any pullovers?”

  In answer, he put one hand on each side of his collar and ripped the shirt open down the middle before shrugging out of it. Buttons skittered across the carpet and plinked against the fireplace.

  Dara laughed and slid his undershirt over his head, the better to study his chest in the firelight.

  “You’re so beautiful,” she said on a sigh.

  The reverence in her voice humbled him. Her eagerness thrilled him. Her warm hands stroking all over him—not hesitantly, either, but firmly and confidently, the way he’d taught her he liked—undid him.

  “I want you, angel,” he told her between kisses. “Want you ...want you ...want you.”

  He found the bottom edge of her sweater and slid it up over her silky belly, brushing his fingers along her flesh, and her skin seemed to shiver to life beneath his fingertips. Gasping and obedient, she raised her hands over her head so he could slip the sweater off. He tossed it aside.

  Then he paused to savor the view because he was the luckiest guy on the fucking planet, and a moment this special only rolled around once or twice in a lifetime.

  She was perfection in her black lace bra and jeans. Glowing brown skin, the ripe curves of her breasts and hips, the dip of her navel in her taut belly, long legs.

  “You’re killing me, Dara.”

  Her smile was slow. Seductive.

  Taking her time, she unhooked her bra in the front and, unabashed, let her lush breasts spill free so he could stare his fill. Her nipples were large and dark. Pointy with arousal.

  He let out a serrated sigh.

  Holding his gaze, she bent to slide her jeans and panties off, freeing her warm feminine scent.

  It immediately fogged his brain, intoxicating him and letting him know how wet she was, how r
eady.

  Watching her straighten, he knew he was lost.

  He pulled her into his arms. She moaned, rubbing herself against him as he squeezed her ass before sliding his fingers lower, between her legs. She gasped sharply, writhing as he stroked her.

  She was velvety soft and creamy-slick.

  And in this dizzying moment, he was having trouble getting his lungs to work.

  “Killing me,” he murmured.

  “Good.”

  She pressed her breasts against his chest—her nipples were hot, hard—and slowly trailed her hands down his torso to his belt. Before he could get his sluggish responses to work up a protest, she’d undone his buckle and zipper and begun rubbing his raging erection with her skilled hands.

  He stiffened, wanting to slow her down even as his hips began to pump involuntarily.

  His whole world filtered down to her glittering, heavy-lidded eyes and the easy up-and-down rhythm of her hands on his dick.

  “Should I stop?”

  “Slow down,” he said hoarsely, burying his lips in the sensitive hollow between her neck and shoulders and nipping until she cried out. “We don’t want this to go too fast, do we?”

  Her smile was knowing and satisfied. “I just want to make you to lose control.”

  That horse was already out of the barn.

  “You little witch.”

  She laughed.

  Impatience made him jerky as he kicked off his shoes, shoved his pants and briefs down his legs and stepped out of them. Time to shift the power here. He dropped to his knees and pressed his face between her breasts, reveling in her skin, her warmth, her scent. Catching a nipple between his lips, he rubbed his tongue across the swollen tip, sucked hard and, finally, nipped.

  Throaty cry from Dara as her head fell back.

  He ran his hands from her shoulders to her wrists, massaging her and delighting in the gooseflesh that rose behind his touch. She clung to his shoulders and shivered with exquisite sensitivity, her throaty noises urging him on.

  His hands moved from her waist to her hips, then lower, kneading her butt. He ran his fingers along her shapely thighs and calves and trailed his lips in their wake.

  “Come here.”