Satellite of Love

by Christa Maurice

  She started kissing his neck and giggling.

  God, this woman was amazing. The way her soft body rubbed him in all the right ways made him never want to get off this couch. He smoothed his hands down her satin skin. “You are going to make me stop being a good guy.”

  “Maybe that’s what I want.” She teased his ear lobe with her tongue.

  His body tensed and snapped like he’d grabbed the jumper cables at the wrong time. “What?” he asked.

  She arched up over him, her eyes dark. “I said, maybe that’s what I want.”

  He bit back a whimper. Don’t fuck with the locals. “What do you mean?”

  “I want you, Michael. I have totally inappropriate thoughts about you in the middle of the day.” She brushed her lips along his jaw. “I’m being aggressive and asking for what I want. Give me some positive reinforcement.”

  “Positive reinforcement?” Don’t fuck with the locals. “Maureen.”

  “I have a surprise for you.” She started working her way down his neck again, roaming his sides with her hands.

  Surprise? She had no idea.

  “I took tomorrow off. Since you’re leaving Monday, I thought we could have a long weekend.”

  Long weekend. Very long. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t sleep with her if she didn’t know the truth. “My brother is going to kill me.”

  “Your brother?” Maureen hesitated. Then her hesitation turned into a full-blown pause. She sat back looking like the recipient of a bucket of cold water in the face. “Ah. I forgot about—well, I forgot about the whole rest of the world for a couple of minutes there. Can’t always get what you want, right?”

  If the Stones were right, you could always get what you needed and he needed Maureen. Bear sat up. She was still straddling his knees and well within reach. “You took tomorrow off?”

  She shrugged. “I thought I’d either want to spend the weekend with you or need the mental health day to recover.” She poked his nose with the tip of her finger.

  He stroked her cheek. Her warm soft spirit flowed into him. At this moment he wanted a lot more than a long weekend. She was such a genuine, sweet woman. So true, so real.

  And he’d been lying to her since the minute he met her. “I have surprise for you too.”

  “Really?” She cocked her head. “Am I gonna like it?”

  “You’re either going to like it or you’re going to slap me really hard.” Bear gritted his teeth.

  Her pretty grin melted off her face and she suddenly looked a lot more like a teacher. “You did promise me you weren’t a serial killer.”

  “I’m not a serial killer.” He swallowed. The slap was a more likely outcome. In about ten seconds he was going to get a lesson in never lying to a woman. Especially one who might turn out to be more than a passing fancy. “I’m not a mechanic either.”

  “What did you do to my car?”

  “I fixed it. I know how to fix cars. That’s just not my day job.”

  “You’re starting to make me really nervous.” She leaned back like she was about to bolt.

  Bear grabbed her hands. Her body weight bent his knees backward, which wasn’t the most comfortable position in the world, but he was afraid if she moved away he’d never get her back. “Wait. I’m sorry. I never meant to lie to you. I thought it would be one evening and a pizza and that would be it. Then it turned into the weekend and now it’s—”

  “I did mention that you were making me nervous.” She was letting him hold her hands, but that was it.

  “I’m a musician.”

  “A musician.”

  “Yes.”

  Her frown deepened. “And what is the problem with that?”

  “Well.” What was the problem with that? “I’m kinda famous and I really wanted you to like me for me.”

  “I’ve never heard of you.”

  “There’s a signed picture of my band up in the garage.”

  “There is?”

  “There was. I took it down Saturday morning because I didn’t want you to see it.” His hands started sweating and not in a good way.

  “Because you didn’t want me to know you were famous?”

  “Yeah.”

  She pulled her hands out of his, stood up and walked across the room. Picking up a pop up book of dinosaurs, she flipped through it before putting it back on the shelf. “I really dislike being lied to.”

  Her brittle tone made him wish she’d just slapped him. He turned to put his feet on the floor and debated standing up. If he walked over there, it might piss her off enough that she’d hit him, which would end the Arctic blast, but she’d probably also throw him out on his ass which would end everything else. Better to hold the beachhead he had. “And I’m sorry. I was sorry as soon as it started, but I didn’t think it would matter.”

  “Why did you do it?”

  Maybe fury had made her deaf. Hadn’t he just said that? “I didn’t think it would matter?”

  “No, why did you do it at all?” She turned to face him and folded her arms.

  He looked at the floor. Why had he done it at all? “I’m sorry.”

  “Well, so am I, because that isn’t a good enough answer.”

  Her well-deserved attitude grated. He shoved himself to his feet. “Don’t treat me like a kid.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m just not sure how to treat you. I thought I knew you, but now you tell me you’ve been lying to me since we met. What am I supposed to do?”

  “Forgive me? You liked me well enough a few minutes ago. You were ready to have sex.”

  “That might not be the best thing to remind me of right now.”

  “True.”

  “I feel like an idiot. All this time I thought I was seeing Michael D’Amato, mechanic from California and now I find out you’re a—what did you say you did?”

  The DVD menu started to cycle through again. He grabbed the remote, switched off the television and threw the remote down. “I’m a drummer in a rock band. We just released a new album and this is my vacation before I have to go back for rehearsals and the tour.”

  She nodded.

  “You know, I’d feel a lot better if you’d scream at me or hit me or something.”

  “I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable.”

  He dropped back onto the couch. Lying to her had to be one of the biggest boneheaded decisions of all time. “Maureen, I’m really sorry I did this to you and I wouldn’t have told you at all—”

  “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

  “And I’m sorry.” Bear drew a deep breath. This was like stepping off a tall bridge not sure if the bungee cord was secured. “But I really like you. I really love you. I don’t want to leave town Monday and never see you again. What I really want is to see a lot more of you.”

  “If you’re just saying this to get me in bed...” She grimaced.

  “No, I’m pretty sure I could have gotten that without the drama. Besides, playing the celebrity card wouldn’t have worked with you.” That was one of the things he liked about her. The celebrity card might as well have been the four of spades. The level of her shoulders didn’t look like knives anymore. Her expression had softened too. Now he had a very small chance of winning this one. He stood again and crossed the room. At the last minute, he decided not to touch her. He didn’t want her feeling pressured even though every fiber of him wanted to. “Give me another chance. This time as me. I have to do a promo thing tomorrow. Come with me. I’ll show what it’s really like to date a rock star.”

  “I don’t know, Michael.”

  Not the right answer, but not the wrong one either. “Please?”

  A little smile started to play around her lips. That was getting to the right answer.

  Bear dropped to his knees, clasping his hands up to her. “Please?”

  She laughed. “Stop that. Stand up. You’re embarrassing me.”

  “So you’re not going to tell me to take a hike?” He stood and draped his arms around
her shoulders.

  “Not this time. I’m a firm believer in three strikes before you’re out.” She fixed him with a mock stern look. “But don’t test your luck.”

  Bear kissed her. He didn’t plan on testing anything.

  She obviously didn’t either. Hands planted on his chest, she pushed him back a step. “Why don’t we take a little intermission?” She headed into the kitchen. “Coffee?”

  No. “Sure,” he said, and followed her.

  With sharp and quick movements, she went through the cupboards, letting the doors smack against the frames. On the surface, she’d forgiven him, but she still wasn’t happy. She had the right. He’d thrown her a hell of a curve ball.

  Maureen jerked open the refrigerator and then slammed it closed. “Well, you’re out of luck because there is no coffee. I am now out of everything that vaguely resembles food. I have half a bag of flour, some sugar, a tube of anchovy paste and one cherry Poptart. I guess the Poptart counts as food, but we have to share.”

  “Why don’t you have any food?” He ventured into the kitchen as far as the table. Her cupboards had been pretty bare.

  “Because I was supposed to go grocery shopping last weekend and didn’t.”

  He’d known the amount of time he was spending with her would come back to haunt him. What else hadn’t she been taking care of? How mad was she going to be when he left town and she had to play catch up? “Do you want to go grocery shopping?” That was the last thing he wanted to do, but it would be something to do with her and might win him points.

  “I’m not going to drag you grocery shopping.” She chuckled and walked around the table. “But thanks for offering.”

  “Hey, I’ll throw myself on that grenade if I have to.” He settled his arms around her waist. Her hands rested on his shoulders. Nothing like an embrace. Miles from where they’d been on the couch. So far she hadn’t kicked him out, but she hadn’t totally taken him back yet either. Kind of an odd sensation, this not being granted extra breaks because of who he was. At least she wasn’t holding it against him. “What about Starbucks?”

  Her arms slid around his neck and she rubbed her nose on his. “Starbucks it is.”

  5

  Maureen picked up their empty cups and carried them to the kitchen. She still wanted him. All week long her wishing had gradually become plotting until she was ready to have him to breakfast tomorrow and every day until he had to leave town, damn the torpedoes. But his announcement still had her staggering. She’d never kept up with popular culture. Among her friends, it was a joke. Her car radio was fixed to NPR and when she played music for the kids it was classical or ethnic. They came in with new bands, but she never listened to the music. She wasn’t sure the kids did either. For them it was mostly about having the right binder or t-shirt.

  Now she was dating a famous rock and roller. Well, it had to be a step up from grease monkey. Linda would be impressed. Might even know who he was. What kind of life must he be leading to feel he had to lie to her about who he was? She tossed out the cups and paused in the kitchen door to look at him.

  His revelation had derailed her for a long time, but coffee, giant cookies and another round of Mulder and Scully and she was back on track. Warm, willing, and now with twenty-five percent more curiosity.

  He was still incredibly sexy. Those shoulders, those hands, that mouth. What did he say he played? Drums? That just spawned a lot of cheesy jokes from her id about natural rhythm.

  No school tomorrow.

  Maureen chewed her lip. In the middle of his confession, he had used the word love. He’d also kept using the word “really.” She’d heard enough kids falling back on that word when they were desperate to get their point across.

  She’d never intended to get into a serious relationship with her mechanic’s brother, whoever he was, but it was all headed that way like an overloaded train on a steep hill. He was funny, sweet, sexy as anything. Instead of expecting her to watch his every entertaining move, he paid attention to her. Michael was the first guy she’d met who didn’t make her feel like she was along for his ride. Maybe it wasn’t her school marm wardrobe that drove all her other dates away but the fact that she wasn’t willing to be their audience. How was it that the first guy she’d met who didn’t want her to be his audience and chief cheerleader was a professional performer?

  The way he looked at her brought her temperature up a few degrees and when his hands got involved, she went straight into fevered. She wasn’t exactly a hussy, but something about Michael made her more than willing to experiment with the role.

  She slid onto the couch next to him and trailed her fingers up his arm. Now she understood the phrase iron hand in a velvet glove because it applied perfectly to his arms. “You know I have this problem with my brakes.”

  “They giving you trouble again?” He glanced at her hand, looking puzzled. She’d left him in the doghouse too long.

  “I’m talking about my personal brakes.” She shifted closer, her breath shortening in anticipation. “I seem to be having trouble stopping.”

  “That so?” He raised one eyebrow, smiling. “I’ll have to take a look under the hood.”

  She straddled his legs. “You know that was a cheesy line, don’t you?”

  “You started it, sugar.” His hands wrapped around her waist, proving he had iron elsewhere too.

  “I suppose I did.” She leaned in and kissed him. Over the past week she’d totaled at least a couple of hours kissing him, but it never got old. The softness of his mouth always intrigued her when everything else about him was so hard. His taste was magic too. Flavored now with coffee and chocolate, she could still detect his dark spice. Utterly indescribable, but this was what had been driving her crazy all week. This taste and the things she imagined he could do with his mouth, especially when she woke up in the middle of the night.

  Sliding under her shirt, the touch of his hands brought an electric sizzle. His hands woke her up in the middle of the night too. The strength in his fingers and the way he pulled her tight like he couldn’t stand as much as an atom’s separation between them.

  Maureen shivered and felt it echo through him. “So you’re some kind of famous person.”

  “I am.” He pushed the neck of her shirt aside and kissed her chest. Her nipples ached for attention.

  “And sex with a famous person is supposed to be lots better than average.” She put her hands on his cheeks to make him look at her.

  His eyes were dark, but amused and a little hazy. “I can promise you a private performance with at least one encore.”

  “That sounds delightful. How about we move to a different stage?”

  “A different stage?” He frowned.

  Maybe that was the wrong word for it. Some research was called for. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”

  “As you wish.” He stood, carrying her with him.

  Squealing, she grabbed his shoulders. God, he had great shoulders. Based on her inspection, he had great everything. He turned into her bedroom without having to ask and dropped her onto the bed, falling on top of her. The moment his lips slanted across hers again, she forgot to wonder how he knew which room was which. Heat spiraled through her. She needed to shed some clothes. So did he. She pulled his shirt over his head. Cloth broke his kiss for a second and he gave a frustrated grumble. The expanse of bared skin distracted her from her own heat. So slick and perfect. Sliding her palms down his back, she luxuriated in him.

  “Are you sure about this?” he asked through heavy breathing. He propped himself up on his elbow.

  “You wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. Why?” Maureen trailed her fingers down his chest. The pause was annoying, but she knew she should be appreciating it. He wasn’t as hairy as she’d thought he would be, but the dusting of dark hair across his tanned chest still seemed perfect.

  “I’ve already screwed up once and I want to make sure I don’t screw up again.” He smoothed a lock of hair off her face. Every inch of him strained
for her.

  Every inch of her was straining for him too, but his hesitation kept her from rushing forward. Why was he doing it? All week long they’d been barely able to keep their hands off each other, now twice he’d stopped her. Did he have some other deep dark secret he needed to share with her? Something else he should have admitted and didn’t? Or was he just more neurotic than average? “I hope you don’t too.”

  “It’s just—” He broke off and kissed her soft and sweet. Totally at odds with the urgent need of two minutes ago. What was wrong with him?

  “Michael?” She tangled her fingers through his hair. “What is it?”

  “I know we haven’t known each other very long and I don’t want to make you nervous or anything, but I really like you. You’re special.”

  “Like short bus special?” Maureen tried to smile, but it warped and melted before the expression fully formed. Hadn’t know her long? Make her nervous? What was he going to do? Propose marriage? Propose something super freaky?

  “No.” He stroked her cheek. “Just special. I don’t want to mess things up by moving too fast, but I don’t have a lot of time.”

  “Spit it out, Michael.”

  “I love you.”

  Maureen blinked. She thought she’d been ready for that, but the way her lungs emptied and her gut seized, she obviously hadn’t been. It wasn’t just the words. The expression on his face, the tone of his voice, the fact that he was still trembling. This wasn’t a light declaration for him. He meant every letter.

  Why did he have to mess it up by making it momentous?

  “Maureen?”

  She kissed him to buy time to summon up an appropriate answer. Nothing was coming. If she didn’t give him something, she was going to poke a hole in his ego that would have it flying around the room like a runaway balloon. “Show me,” she whispered. “There’s a box of condoms on the dresser.”

  “The dresser?” He made an attempt at focusing his eyes on her and then on the dresser across the room. “You stocked up?”

  She traced her finger across his lips and down his chin. He had a good chin too. Strong, determined. “I stopped on the way home from school.”