by Angel Payne
He tried pulling me to sit beside him on the hay bales and I instantly wrinkled my nose. “Can we move this to the house? That stuff is animal dinner, you know.”
He shook his head. “Nope. Here. Now.” And I swore, purposely kept his shirt off to emphasize the force of his assertion. “You’ll get in the house and throw up a thousand distractions.”
Shit.
Busted. Again.
My chivalrous not-boyfriend retrieved his shirt and laid it out flat so I could sit on the stinky animal food beside him. I had no escape. Like the sex, this was going to happen, too—but if that was what he wanted, he could start first.
And he did.
“I’m just going to say it,” he stated, reaching for my hand. “I’m falling for you, Margaux Asher. I think I did a long time ago, actually. I think maybe it was that time you chewed my ass for getting you a mocha instead of a latte from the coffee cart at the office…” He let that trail into his boyish-gone-sexy grin on me—not a fair move in the slightest, though I admired him for it.
I had nothing in return for him.
My mind was too busy with alarms.
Red Alert.
Red Alert.
Red Alert.
All women went through the same thing when a man laid himself at her feet.
Right?
While I waged that inner battle, the man sat there in bare-chested, hopeful-grinned beauty…and expectancy. If I said nothing, he’d finally get the correct gist—that I simply didn’t have the emotional tools for this—and all that brilliance in his gaze would mist over to disappointment. Better now than later, I guess.
No.
Shit.
Say something.
Do something.
“Okay.” He finally broke the silence. “So am I off-base? I wasn’t the only one engaged here, yeah? Because that was fucking amazing, right?”
“Yes. Yes,” I blurted. “You’re right, Michael. It was amazing. Thank you, stud.”
His smile could have lighted the whole highway back to San Diego. I took a relieved breath. At least I could give him that. Shit, he wasn’t asking me to marry him or wear his letterman’s jacket. He simply wanted to know if my socks had just been rocked off. I’d given a thoroughly honest answer.
God. How low had the princess been brought? It was unbelievable but true. I’d actually found a man in this world I didn’t want to lie to. Thank God he didn’t press for anything more, because I had no idea if I’d be able to resist. Even now, I yearned to fall to my knees in front of him, stare up into his breathtaking gaze, and proclaim that I was falling for him too.
Most ridiculous idea ever.
That was before factoring in the danger of it, as well. All the shit in my life that neither he nor Di deserved to have dragged up to this paradise. I could never expose them to that risk—and would never forgive myself if they were collateral damage of Trey’s demented schemes. God only knew what he had cooked up next for a demand, but I’d give the bastard a kidney if it meant keeping Michael and his mom out of it all.
My resolve from the morning was newly cemented. I’d spend the next few days here, savor and enjoy everything I could, then leave it all safely behind when I returned to San Diego. My heart would be torn out in the process, but there was no other choice.
And for the second time in one day, I’d referenced my goddamn heart in a sentence.
Damn you, Michael Pearson, for showing me things better left undiscovered.
Chapter Fourteen
Michael
I woke up with a smile on my face.
Yeah, a real one. Not the left-over-from-the-sex-dream kind. Not the oh-yeah-it’s-Saturday kind, either.
It wasn’t Saturday. But I almost wondered if the dream thing was a factor. Maybe all the scenes in my head really were just that, and not the memories I’d tagged them as.
If that was the case, I didn’t care. Not one fucking bit.
Margaux in that incredible little dress. Her sassy ankle boots. Her messy, take-me-to-Nashville braid. The way she’d delighted in the parade like it was a multimillion-dollar Broadway spectacle. The way she’d become Mom’s cheerleader for the quilt competition. Even the way she’d gone all possessive alpha bitch at the diner, climbing into my lap with the surety of a minx.
I’d liked that part a lot. Almost as much as what we’d done in the barn after getting back here…
If it had been a dream, then I was left with only one choice of action. Take hammer. Pound self in head. Pass out again, for the chance of reliving the best fucking Fourth of July I’d ever had—with the exception of worrying like hell about Mom until Carlo came and took over.
I shifted a little, gazing out at the sunshine filtering through the trees, smiling at a mountain jay that landed on a branch outside the window. I grinned and murmured, “Yo, buddy. How’s it hanging?”
And now I was actually talking to birds. Add a tiara and a catchy tune, and I’d be ready to take the act up the freeway to Disneyland.
I still didn’t care. Another shift of my knee later, it was clear my cock didn’t, either. I hissed as the movement dragged the sheet across everything, moistening the fabric with arousal that was very real, even if its inspiration hadn’t been.
I exhaled hard, but quietly. Fuck. This boner wasn’t going away on its own.
Was there time to do something about it?
I slid a hand toward my groin. My dick jerked in anticipation, but I stopped short of getting to business. Another glance out the window. It wasn’t long after sunrise. No way Mom wasn’t awake yet, though I didn’t hear her downstairs. Good chance she was already up and out the door, maybe touring part of the orchard with Carlo.
And Margaux?
The guest room was next door. I didn’t hear her moving around in it. If she was still asleep—
You can just sneak in, slide under the covers with her—
And be paranoid about every damn squeak the bed made.
I palmed my balls. And clenched back a moan. Already tight, and ready. Dream Margaux had gotten me worked up like a hopeless sex addict. But was it addiction when only one woman filled me with this kind of craving? Made my shaft spurt even more anticipating milk as I pulled the sheet away from it…
The jay watched in curiosity as I slid my fist up my length. I looked away, closing my eyes, retreating to the haven of my mind.
The barn there. The woman inside that barn.
Her lips locked beneath mine.
Her skin, so pliant beneath my fingers.
Her body, arching to me. Against me. Around me…
Humming for me?
I froze.
No. She’d made lots of sweet music for me in the barn but none of it had been…hummed.
“Shit.”
She was awake.
I bolted upright. Winced as my head whacked the headboard. Hissed while jerking the sheet up to my waist, as if she was going to walk in on me any second. Right. Go ahead and work that virginal Victorian thing, Mr. Modesty—especially after what your “squeaky clean” mind just conjured.
I growled before Zen-breathing my way to my feet. I didn’t dare glance down, though ignoring the “issue” sure as hell wasn’t going to diminish it—especially as she injected some singing between the humming. Shit. The husky threads in her speaking voice wove through her singing, too. A little Bonnie Raitt, a little Karen Carpenter, a lot of sweet, sexy woman…
I stifled a moan as her little tune seeped through the walls—and zapped straight between my thighs. Think about root rot. And aphids. The pile of work on your desk. Bill O’Reilly.
Uh-uh. Nothing worked. No damn way this thing was going away on its own now.
I needed a better plan.
Time for cleaning up my act—in an ice cold shower.
Wincing with every move, I wrapped the sheet around my waist and crossed the room to the dresser. Inside were the standby clothes I always kept here for impromptu visits. With underwear, khakis, and a T-shirt in
hand, I turned for the door. The bathroom was just three steps across the hall—
Where the shower now spurted into action.
“Dammit.”
Again whispering, I pressed my forehead to the door jamb. She’d beat me to the punch. Worse, she hit the volume button on her singing to combat the din of the water.
Options to weigh. Stand here and listen, using the magic of her voice and the fantasy of her body to finish off—or tell Mr. Modesty to go hang in the wind and get my ass in there on a fact-finding mission? If yesterday really was just a dream, this was a damn good excuse to find out. I’d either be screamed out of the bathroom or welcomed into heaven. Either way, I’d eventually be able to put on my clothes without fear of breaking something vital off.
I took ten additional seconds to glance out the window at the end of the hall. The trip was worth it. Mom’s car was gone. Thumbs up number one from karma. I hoped she’d be on board for the second, as well.
A testing turn of the bathroom doorknob gave me that answer quickly enough.
Hell, yes.
Once I entered, I let the sheet drop, with my clothes on top of it. Better for a fast getaway, if all this shit hit the massive fan.
Wasn’t like I could get any other drop on her. Mom had remodeled the bathroom last year, taking out a wall and two closets to clear space for a fireplace, a massive tub, and a stall shower with glass walls on three sides. She’d not-so-coyly hinted that one day I might have a “houseguest” who might enjoy all of it. I’d rolled my eyes and likely a few more things, thinking life beyond Laci wasn’t going to make room for anyone except a few casual booty call partners.
Never say never.
Well-phrased words for one hell of a perfect moment. Because I sure as hell never thought I’d behold a sight as incredible as this.
The water on her skin. Shimmering on her shoulders. Cascading down her thighs. Beading on the curls between her thighs. Dripping off her perfect coral nipples.
Something finally tipped her off that she was no longer alone. Margaux whirled, alarm claiming her face, but the second her gaze dropped over my nudity, she shoved it aside for an impish grin.
Backtrack. Impish, my ass. The woman went straight for seduction mode, care of the shameless water siren she so totally resembled.
“Good morning, Captain America.”
That loosened me up enough to smile. “And hello there, Aquawoman.”
She cocked her head. “I’m not sure they ever made an Aquawoman.”
“Oh, they did.” I took a step, never looking away from her. “And she was hot.”
“Okay.” She shrugged, starting at imp but ending at vixen. “Then I’ll be her.” As I approached by another step, she pivoted, letting the water pour along her front again. “She’s got a kick-ass costume, right? Think I could fill it out okay?”
Christ. She could talk super hero while looking like a goddamn sex kitten. Michael Pearson, you are the luckiest fucker alive. “Hmmm,” I murmured, running a finger along the glass still separating us. “I think I may need to collect some…research data…just to be sure.”
She nodded with mock gravity. “Of course, Captain. I understand completely. I mean, if we’re going to fight bad guys to…geth…”
Her voice gave way to a gasp as I whipped open the door and lunged next to her in one motion. With the next, I pinned her into the corner of the stall, diving my lips against hers, groaning at the erotic perfection of her slicked, gleaming body. Without breaking the kiss, I shoved shampoo and liquid soap bottles off the built-in, waist-high ledge, before hiking her bottom up onto it.
Fuck. Yes.
This was just where I needed her—and would even say I’d dreamed of her, except this surpassed even my most incredible fantasies. With her breasts smashed to my chest, her hands gripping my hair, and the water sluicing between our bodies, I once more questioned the reality of it all—and once more told my brain to shut the hell up. Dreams don’t get better than this, asshole. You want to prep a fucking brief about it, or just show some gratitude and enjoy it?
Steam. Skin. Wild, wonderful wetness…flowing with her whimpers of growing passion…
Gratitude, here I come. Damn near literally…
I forced my lips away from hers, sucking down air, trying to give my cock some room to regain control. “Damn. Damn.” Much easier said than done. My dick was hard as a fucking tree limb, pulsing against her stomach, the head twitching as the water continued to tease it. The press of our bodies ensured the perfect fit of my balls against the slick lips at her core—but I wasn’t moving them even if The Big One hit the state right now and brought the house down around us.
Margaux’s forehead crunched. “Hey. You okay?”
It took a long second to process the underline of her voice. I’d never heard her get pitchy like that. It was different than arousal, and difficult to—
Holy shit. Was she…worried? About me?
“Fine,” I managed. “I’m fine.” My shock about her concern was instantly obscured by my need to ease it. “It’s fine. It’s…” I shuddered as she lowered one of her arms, changing the water streams so they taunted more of my crotch. “Uh, yeah. It’s—it’s fine.”
Her gaze flicked down. A smirk twisted her mouth. “Fine is just the start.”
I smiled through my torment. God, I dug it when she masked her nervousness with sarcasm. The trait used to drive me insane with curiosity, always knowing there was more behind it than a need to be the funniest girl in the room, but when I finally figured it out, my file of obsession for her thickened by a good inch. There she was, assuming herself to be cloaked in her snarky little shell, when she was never more exposed to me. Or beautiful to me.
Or ripe for me to swoop in again, kissing her deeply, deeper still—but never deep enough. Never down as far as she’d affected me. But hell, I could sure try. And I did. Pulling her close again, I spread her mouth with the force of mine. Plunged in, taking her hot depths with urgent strokes and a hungry growl. She whimpered. Again. The sound intensified as she locked her legs around my waist and started rocking, using the press of our bodies to knead my erection to a new level of need.
Goddamn. I’d never use a regular shower massager and be satisfied ever again.
“Fuck!” It exploded from my lips onto hers. Blood pounded to dangerous levels up my dick. “Sugar, if we don’t stop—”
My hiss ripped the rest of it away, as she dug her nails into both my ass cheeks. “That’s the general idea here.”
I broke into another grin, shaking my head while kissing over the droplets on her chin, nose and forehead. I dipped my head to her neck, pulled by the hypnotizing sheen of the water on her skin. Yesterday’s passion in the barn had been one of the best experiences of my life but hadn’t included the chance to fully take in her beauty like this. Taste her skin like this. Openly lick and suck and brand her with my mouth like this…
I trailed my kisses lower. Lower. Then bit down into her breast, letting her know I’d only just begun the assault.
“Shit!” Her cry bounced off the glass walls around us as I pulled her nipple between my teeth. “Oh, Michael…” As I skimmed toward her other peak, she grabbed my head, stopping me hard. “No! If you bite that one, I’m going to scream. And your mom—”
“Is already gone.” I grinned. Rolled my tongue over her erect tip. Then dug my teeth in on that side. Harder.
And ohhhh yeah, did she scream.
My bloodstream did the same. I turned into a goddamn inferno, muscles bunching, nerves ablaze, heart beat roaring through my ears. The rest of her breast slid easily into my mouth, filling me with the clean, feminine taste of her, mixed with a little of the vanilla soap she’d been using before my intrusion. As I suckled and scraped at her flesh, more delicious moans spilled from her, vibrating through her chest, chiming through my senses. Every few licks, I pulled away to let the water in, lifting her nipple for its watery tease. I kept it up simply for the joy of hearing her moan b
e interrupted by an aroused little laugh, until she couldn’t take it any longer and tried squirming away. Not that it worked for her, especially after I grabbed her thighs and pulled them farther apart, exposing the dark pink layers of her pussy even more to my hungry gaze.
“Oh, my God,” she finally spurted on a little giggle. “You!”
“Yes?” I angled my gaze, communicating it wasn’t rhetorical.
“You’re a fucking scoundrel!”
“Mmmmm.” I ran my thumbs along the inner flesh of her legs. “That sounds about right.” So very right. Holy shit, what this woman did to me…the things she brought out in me…all the dirty, wicked things she made me long to explore…
Sure, I’d been “naughty” with women before. Yeah, even ventured to the nastier nuances of the meaning—but had always stopped myself short of letting the real animal all the way out of the carefully-guarded cage within.
Margaux Asher saw every inch of my cage.
Right before reaching with those tigress eyes of hers, and melting all the bars away.
Margaux Asher didn’t just see my animal. She understood him. Knew him. And best of all, could more than handle him.
And he was crazy about her for it.
He prowled up from deep inside, newly unleashed, teething her from shoulder to shoulder with his possession, savoring every sweet snarl, rasp, and bite she gave him in return. Her head thrown back, both hands now tangled in my hair, she blurted, “Holy shit. The scoundrels are out and Mama’s not home. Maybe I should fire up the bat signal.”
I slid my head down, taking her other nipple into my mouth. “I think I have a good power source right here.”
Her husky laugh steamed up the air even more. “I’m not sure about that. I mean, you’re an awfully…big…threat, Mr. Scoundrel. All of Gotham is likely in peril from you.”
