It was too much. He couldn’t hold back. He opened her legs and drove nearly full tilt into her, groaning. He drew back and then oh-so-deliciously in. And again. Deeper, faster. Baseball scores. Baseball scores. Need distraction, baseball scores. The distraction failed to slow down his thrusting frenzy. “Screw baseball.”
Paige gasped, her body rocking and colliding with Michael’s. In halting words drawled out in hissing syllables, she replied, “Not…ohh…the right…aah…sea-sea-season…” She held the last word in a whimpering hum as she arched against him. Paige’s body thrashed to his. Her insides clenched on his shaft. Her mouth fell to an O and she cried out. All of it pushed Michael over the edge.
“Basketball!” Michael screamed in a long cry, followed by guttural noises as he convulsed against her, exploding, buried inside her. The incredible release felt all the more powerful with her echoing waves milking him.
He held her tightly as she clung to him. He finally slowed and saw a lock of her hair across her face. He brushed it past her lips, and kissed her. He kissed her again and again, waiting for her to quiet, holding her.
Her eyes fluttered and then she smiled.
“Basketball? Does that have some hidden Oneida meaning?”
Heat crept across his skin. “Sure. It means, big man cometh.”
She laughed at that, and the long day overtook them. Her laugh faded into a dreamy smile.
He reached for a sheet and the quilt, tossing the coverings haphazardly over them. At her shiver, he curled around her, gathering her in tight. Her breathing deepened, and only when she was at the precipice of sleep, did he whisper, “Lonoluhkwe. Don’t flee on me, Paige. I’m learning to love you.”
She nestled deeper into his arms and murmured something, little more than a breath that sounded like, “Me, too.”
Michael’s eyes closed in contentment.
Chapter Three
Michael punched buttons on his computer and muttered under his breath, “Using up data for what? It’s running way too slow.”
He needed a shower. He was dressed in slacks and a sweater with his shirt and belt missing. He did, however, borrow back his thick socks that Paige had stolen. He looked less put together and felt far more at odds than his looks, especially the moment Linney entered.
“Hey, Groundhog Man. How’s it going?” Linney asked.
“Could be better. Really need to get this done this weekend. Cell reception cut out, so now I have to re-run—”
He looked up to see her broadening grin and chose to ignore it. “Do you know which carrier has the strongest Wi-Fi network up here?”
“Haven’t a clue.” She shook her head, grinning.
He turned away and sent off an e-mail request. “Can I help you with something, Linney?”
“Well, come to think of it, yes, you can, Tzaahneet. Do I have that right?”
He looked at her. “Strong, industrious worker? Tsahnit. Close enough. And thank you for the compliment.”
“Well, I was wondering, Tsahnit, what the hell was wrong with baseball and why’s basketball so much better?” Linney burst out laughing. She left without an answer and with a happy step straight to the kitchen.
Michael blushed again. Something he rarely did but found it happened often around these women. “Thin walls,” he called after her.
“Nope. Loud man. And I don’t know the word for it.”
Michael called out, “La chach-te.”
She poked her head back in. “That ain’t it, honey. But whatever you are, you are wiping out my Sagey Paigey. Dinner’s in an hour or whenever it’s done. Plenty of time for a shower.”
“Is that a hint?”
“More like a request.”
Wi-Fi or no, Michael was really liking the place.
****
“Paige?” Linney called up the stairs. “Can you come down and help, girl?”
“Sure. Coming.” Paige’s voice floated down into the foyer.
“And you, go up and shower.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Michael pushed a few last keys and headed for the stairs.
He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Paige hurrying down the stairs with a bounce.
Her hair was in a damp ponytail and she had on clothing, not warm clothing but layers of her own clean clothing. Clothing befitting the season but made for warmer climate. Her slightly fuzzy lamb’s-wool slippers were only outdone by an even fuzzier cream, cropped sweater over her blouse and expensive jeans. She was ready for anything this evening, apart from work.
Michael caught her toward the bottom of the stairs and pulled her into a kiss before she even made it to the floor. “Mmm. You smell delicious.”
Whap. Aunt Linney’s wooden spoon landed her own hand, but it startled them out of the embrace and Paige into a giggle.
“It’s my food that smells good.” She aimed the spoon at Paige. “You to the kitchen. And you—” The wooden weapon pointed at him. “—go make yourself more handsome. And don’t take all the hot water.”
He dashed up the stairs two at a time.
“Did you move your car off the road?” she called up after him.
“Just as ordered.” He added, “Yo hon do.”
“You bet I’m the boss. Well, of my house. Huh, but this isn’t my real house,” she mumbled. Then she called up the stairs, “But I’m the boss somewhere.”
Paige called from the kitchen, “I’m stirring, but it’s boiling over!”
“The kitchen,” Linney amended. “I claim to be the boss of the kitchen.”
****
The three set up the Formica table in kitchen for their meal. The old kitchen was large enough and so out of date it felt charmingly vintage with muted green-painted cabinets, others in varnished deep walnut with glass doors. The pegs held aprons, coats, and scarves. Dried gloves and mittens remained on the heat register while boots dried close by. Paige found placemats and stuck a candle in an empty wine bottle. Linney added a bottle of white wine labelled I’m Out of Coffee.
Michael, freshly showered, nodded at the bottle. “I wish I had a housewarming gift, but it seems some Dornheim and Myers women drank it already.” He found the wine glasses in the far cabinet along with a one-pound, oversized chocolate bar, which he brandished.
“That goes back.” Aunt Linney pointed to the chocolate. “It’s my desperation stash.”
“Pretty desperate, Auntie,” Paige interjected.
“Anything smaller and I would be nibbling it at. Got to have a really rough day to tap into that.”
Paige set the potatoes and green beans on the table. “How long have you had it?”
Her aunt shrugged. “A few months. Working hospice care can do something to you sometimes.”
Michael took the chicken from the oven and placed it on the trivet on the table. “A few months without chocolate would be a record breaker with the women in my family.”
“Who said I didn’t have chocolate? There’s scratch brownies cooling on the stove. It’s the hospice end-days when someone clutches my hand as they…” Linney stopped, took a few deep breaths, and shook her shoulders, as if that would clear away her thoughts.
She poured the wine.
“To those who are at this table and those who are no longer able to be.”
They clinked and ate, quietly at first, but the conversation grew and became lighter with each bite. The chicken meal was simple, plain, yet delicious. With each sip of wine came another toast. They toasted everything from chocolate to visitors becoming friends, clean driveways, and clean anything. No one said, “to love,” skirting the words but not the warm feelings being shared.
By the end of the meal, the conversation gravitated to Linney’s days back when she lived in the old house.
“Of course, I tried not to hang out with your tag-along mom. She was a good six years younger. A bit of a bratty girly girl,” she said with a wistful smile. “Your mom baked a fine pie but was a terrible cook back then. I think I was the opposite.”
&n
bsp; Michael pushed back from the table.
Paige patted her stomach.
Aunt Linney poked at the brownies with a spatula. “It looks like nothing has changed. The brownies are burnt to a crisp. Sorry.” She was about to toss them out.
“Wait. I have this.” Paige found a grater and scrapped off the bottom burnt part. “If we think, biscotti, they’re fine. See?”
“Easier for me to take along when I leave tomorrow afternoon,” Michael said.
“You’re leaving tomorrow? I thought you were staying ’til Monday.”
“Can’t, Flee. I have important meetings early Monday, and I need to get to some reliable Wi-Fi… Oh, don’t look like that. I can definitely be here by Friday or maybe even a dinner or overnight before then.”
Paige sighed and let go of her look of dismay. “Okay. Just hoping.”
Crunch. She bit into the brownie/biscotti. Her face screwed up, unable to hide how hard the brownie was.
“Hey, those whatevers I made might soften in some coffee,” Aunt Linney said.
“Who needs coffee?” Paige crunched again, louder than any carrot bite could be, trying to smile heartily.
Her aunt shook her head. “Pot of decaf going on for those of us who treasure our fillings. Besides, the night is still young and we had naps. This calls for game night,” she declared and began to wrap the leftovers in containers for the refrigerator.
All three joined in a synchronized dinner clean up.
“So, is it cards or scrabble?” Paige asked.
“Cards.”
“Scrabble.”
The two answers came at once. Then Michael and her aunt traded answers.
“Scrabble.”
“Cards.”
They stared at each other.
“Right. Boggle it is,” Paige announced.
It turned out to be difficult to play Boggle as each would crunch down hard on the dessert, breaking the other’s concentration. Coffee softened the treats, but the crunch turned out to be too tempting. They turned their attention to arguing over word viability with Aunt Linney doing most of the arguing and the cheating, much to her own glee. The game changed to Hangman with the rule being to use bizarre words or phrases.
“Calcunow is not a word,” Paige claimed.
“Hey there’s calculator. Why not a calcu-now?” Aunt Linney rebutted, laughing at her own joke.
Michael joined in. “My turn.”
His was worse.
“Paranormal distribution? Really Michael? My aunt is rubbing off on you. What the heck is that?” Paige demanded.
“This is a normal distribution.” He drew a bell curve. “This is a paranormal distribution.” Michael drew a ghost.
“Okay, that’s it. That’s the last straw,” Paige announced.
Both Michael and her aunt stopped laughing and looked at Paige. She smiled and pointed to the paper.
“See? The last straw.” She’d drawn a few straws and then one far to the end and pointed her pencil at it and laughed.
“That was truly awful! But not as bad as this. Why is England the wettest country? Because the queen has reigned for more than forty years.”
Michael joined in. “You asked for it. The first time I used an elevator was an uplifting experience. The second time let me down.”
“Did you ever screw while camping? It’s f’ing in tents. Intense, get it? In tents.” Aunt Linney could barely stop laughing at her own joke.
“Just like acupuncture, Auntie, it’s a jab well done. But did you hear about the commodes were stolen from the police station? The police are investigating, but they have nothing to go on.” Paige giggled at their groans and the paper napkins they threw at her.
“Is this better? Your calendar’s days are numbered?” She laughed. “Or…I used to sell computer parts, but I lost my…drive. Even better… I was reading this book on anti-gravity, and I can’t put it down.”
“Make her stop,” Aunt Linney begged.
Michael rose and tugged Paige from her seat.
“Wait, I have more. A man was caught stealing food items at the grocery store while he was balanced on the shoulders of two vampires. He was charged with shoplifting on two counts.”
Though Michael chuckled, he said, “That’s it. Say goodnight, Gracie.” He took the Boggle set and Paige’s arm.
“Did you know if you’ve seen one shopping center, you’ve seen the mall?” Paige made Michael groan with that as he ushered them from the room.
Paige objected. “One more. Did you know if you jump off a bridge in Paris, you’re…wait for it—”
“Do we have to?” her aunt called after them.
“You’re in Seine. Insane. Get it? The river. I always loved that one.”
“By the way, Michael…” Aunt Linney interjected, following them toward the stairs.
“Yes?”
“Not from my side of the family.”
He nodded but mumbled, “Not so sure about that.” Their smiles didn’t fade even after the laughter finally stopped.
Chapter Four
Paige woke earlier than Michael did. She rubbed her neck and stretched it. The bed was comfortable, but the makeshift pillows of rolled clothing and towels didn’t hold up and she’d slept contorted. At one point in the night, she shifted in such a way that her head was on Michael’s stomach. She tried to fluff his firm belly like a pillow, waking him momentarily with his “oof” until they shifted and returned to a spoon position, both warm under the mismatched sheets and small coverings, even though a draft blew in from the unsealed window.
As awareness crept in, she leaned up on her arm to watch him sleep. A wave of tenderness washed over her. Had it been really just a handful of nights they shared? Was she still in some sort of foggy dream of a vacation and it was all going to suddenly end? How could they be at this point, so comfortable, so relaxed…so close? Nothing at all like it was with her ex back in Atlanta, what seemed like light-years ago.
“Careful, Groundhog Man, it’s easy to fall for you,” she whispered, accidentally giving verbal acknowledgement to some of her deeper feelings. Is this love? Paige kissed his cheek gingerly before she slipped from the bed and his arms.
Robed, she tiptoed around the clutter in the hall to the bathroom. She decided to let Michael sleep as he’d had so little rest with his work emergency and all the attention he’d given her. Already he had made more sacrifices for her in the past few days than Davis had in the months of being with him in Buckhead. Make that ever with Davis.
After freshening up and still in her robe, she padded down to the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. No K-cups in this old kitchen. The coolness of the morning drew her to the oven as she leisurely made muffins, thick healthy zucchini muffins with a few chocolate chips thrown in for good measure just as her mother had shown her to do. Her hands curled around her coffee mug for warmth as she looked out to the crystalline snow drifts and snow-coated trees. The sun was starting to melt the snow from the branches.
She thought of her Aunt Linney and wished her aunt could feel what Michael and she had blossoming between them. She pulled the muffins from the oven to cool, breaking off a chocolatey corner to nibble. With a relished, “mmm,” she went upstairs to change.
Seeing Michael still in bed, she was so tempted to slide under the covers again. She stood close by, let out a heady sigh, and turned toward her clothing bag.
Without warning, his arm reached out and grabbed her, pulling her to him on the bed.
“There you are, Flee.”
She squealed as he rolled her onto her back.
He kissed her. He tasted of contented sleep, mixing with the sweet lingering taste of her bite of muffin. Her robe draped part-way open. Skin touched skin, encouraging the embrace and kiss to deepen.
Leaning up, his smile shined as did his rich amber-brown eyes.
He chuckled. “Any chance you can hold that thought for later?”
With that, he quickly hopped out of bed naked. She watched his firm
ass dash down the hall toward the bathroom.
“Well,” she said in a pretend huff to no one. She pulled herself from the bed. “And he’s the one with morning breath.” She shrugged, dropping the robe and began to dig through her clothing, sorting pieces before dressing in more than panties.
Michael returned, smiling broadly, holding a small face towel as a loin cloth.
Her eyebrows heightened. “Well, that doesn’t hide much.”
“Should I take that as a compliment?” he asked, the towel hanging on his privates as if it were a hook. A large hook on a smooth-muscled, well-formed body. He closed the door behind him.
Paige did all she could to keep from giggling.
“Take it as you wish, but take it over there.” She pointed to the wall. “It’s what you get for rushing off.” She turned back to her task.
In a flash, he was at her side, grabbing her. “Okay, but I’m taking you with me.”
He picked her up in his arms.
“Ugh. What are you doing?”
“Following your request.” He carried her and pinned her to the wall where she had previously pointed. He held her there, kissing her, the towel long since fallen, but his thick erection had not. He trailed fiery kisses down her skin, nibbling her nipples to ripe, hard points. A flash of electricity shot through her. She forgot all about the disheveled room she was to call her own. She was caught between sheetrock and a hard man and lost to each fiery biting nibble he gave her.
Tingles mixed with the now familiar longing each time his hands touched her. Her body responded to him more than with anyone else. His taut muscled body—how she loved touching every inch of his toned, caramel skin. She couldn’t help it.
When her breathing deepened into sighs, his lips moved to hers. His mouth devoured hers. She tasted a minty freshness mixed with hunger. He rubbed his cock against her silken panties, grinding, and brought her hands over head. Her legs opened, and then she stopped.
A Paige in Cupid's Book Page 3
