Sinful Love (Sinful Nights #4)

by Lauren Blakely

  Shannon parked her hands on his shoulders. She was tiny, and he towered over her small frame, but in that moment, she was the strong one. “You are my big brother who I have always looked up to, leaned on, and relied on. You’ve been like a watchdog, looking out for all of us. But you’ve forgotten to take care of yourself.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he said, not denying it. “But what does that mean?”

  “You’ve got it wrong, Michael. Because you understand love on this powerful, intense level. That’s your strength, but it’s also your weakness. To you, love is an all-or-nothing proposition.” She moved her hand back and forth like a pendulum. “You love Dad; you don’t love Mom.”

  He scoffed. “Of course I don’t love her. How could I?”

  She sighed and squeezed his arm. “All I’m saying is you feel everything in your bones, in your marrow. And it’s not conceivable to you that love can be more than one person, more than one thing. Like how you felt about Brent and how angry you were with him.”

  Michael flashed back to his reaction when Shannon told him she was together again with Brent. He hadn’t been happy, and he’d told Brent as much. But he’d softened eventually. He’d welcomed Brent into the family because of the man’s deep love for his sister. “But we’re good now. Brent and I get along.”

  “And I am so, so glad. But my point is this—right now with Annalise, you’re stuck in All-or-Nothing Michael Land. You’re the Michael who hated Brent and only saw him one way.”

  “And what way am I seeing things?”

  “You think it’s either you or Julien. But the fact that Annalise loved her husband is actually a damn fine thing,” Shannon said, staring pointedly at him. “It says something about her character that she never strayed from him, and had the strength to turn away from you and give him all she had during their marriage. But you’ve somehow twisted that positive into proof that her heart is finished, and she can’t possibly care for you.”

  “Fine,” he grumbled, flashing back to what she’d told him about the photos of him. The album of their days together long ago, and the new pictures too. And while Annalise had shared so many moments with her husband, she’d shared so much with him too. Michael had been her first love, her first kiss, the first person to make her soar in pleasure. “Maybe I have. But still…”

  She raised a finger, stopping him. “You have, and what I hope you can start to see is that it’s possible to love two people deeply, madly, and truly.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “How? How can you say that?”

  Her next words came out in a soft breath. “I love two people deeply.”

  He arched an eyebrow in question. As far as he knew, Brent was it for her—her one and only. Her first love and her last love, and she hadn’t fallen for anyone in between. “Who?”

  “Brent,” she said, raising her chin, saying his name matter-of-factly. “I loved Brent in college for who he was then—a goofball, a funny guy, my sunshine hero. He’s the same man, and yet he’s also completely different. And I fell in love with the man he is now. A strong man, the guy who makes me laugh, a soon-to-be great father, my biggest supporter. The one.”

  “But he’s the same man,” Michael said, trying to make sense of his sister’s strange theory.

  She nodded. “I know. Of course he’s still the same person, and yet…he’s also not. He’s different now than he was the first time we were together, and I loved him then, and I also fell in love with him again. With the man he is today,” she said, stopping for a beat.

  In her silence, a bird chirped in a tree, and somewhere on the other side of the cemetery, footsteps crunched on stone, and he spotted others visiting headstones, too. These moments surrounding him—of life and death and love and memory—tugged at everything inside him, yanking on all his heartstrings. “Okay, so maybe that’s similar to how I feel for her.”

  “And how she feels for you,” Shannon added. “But you have to rethink your all-or-nothing view of her. Because she’s falling in love with you now, too.” She poked him in the chest for emphasis. “She loved you then, and she loves you now, and you’re fixated on what came in between. You need to let it go, because it’s foolish to think there’s only one great love.”

  “There is for me,” he protested, but it was fainter this time, and his words seemed to hold less weight than they had before. Was she right? Was he proving his own theory wrong by falling in love with her all over again, but with the woman she was today?

  “The girl she was at sixteen and the woman she is today are the same, but they’re different.” She ran a hand across her round belly. “And look at me. I love both of my babies. I love the baby I lost and the baby inside me,” she said in a broken whisper. Then she held his gaze. “We have so much more capacity for love than we let ourselves feel when we’re grieving.”

  He exhaled, then inhaled, letting her words expand and dig roots inside him. He knew she was right. He knew she was onto something. And he knew he needed to get out of his own way and let this love take shape.

  * * *

  Later, he met Sophie and Ryan for a drink at the Chandelier Bar after a fundraiser for a children’s charity.

  “Did you ask Annalise to come to the wedding?” Sophie asked once they ordered.

  Michael shook his head.

  Sophie pouted. “You’re going to ask her, though?”

  He shrugged but chased it with a probably. He needed to figure out what to say to her about so many things.

  “Well, when are you seeing her again?”

  “I honestly don’t know. She doesn’t get away much, since she helps take care of her mother. Unless it’s for work.”

  Sophie raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

  Michael tilted his head, trying to figure out what she meant, then decided he was tired of decoding. “Yeah, that’s so.”

  * * *

  When he returned home from work the next day, there was a delivery waiting for him at his building—a slim lavender envelope. Gripping it tightly, he rode the elevator up to the twentieth floor. His nerves were tense, tight, in case this was bad news, in case it was the end. If it was, he needed to be alone as he read it.

  As soon as he entered his home, he leaned back against the door, slid his finger under the seal, and ripped it open.

  Dear Michael,

  Sometimes, phone calls don’t suffice, and email becomes insufficient for our hearts. But I worry I’ve been negligent with yours. That I’ve assumed too much, and said too little—that my fears of losing a love have held me back. Forgive me for not being as open as I wanted. Sometimes the possibility of losing someone I care deeply for is like a fist squeezing my voice, choking it.

  So I turn to the written word. We’ve always been good with letters, haven’t we? I can write down what is too hard to say at times. And that is this. You asked me something on your last night in Paris, and I gave you an answer you didn’t like. But you need to know that a part of me also never stopped loving you. How could I? You were my first, and I wanted you to be my last. That part was quieter, of course, during the last decade, as it should be.

  But now that part is an active part. And what I feel is so much more than a lingering fondness for a first love. It’s an aching, hungry place in me, and a blissful, joyful one, too. I want you in my life, Michael. I want new experiences with you. I want pictures of you and of us, of the places we’ll go, and the things we’ll do. Together.

  I’m trying to give you all I can. I said it badly in Paris, so I’ll say it again and again.

  I’m falling in love with you.

  Will you please let me fall in love with you?

  xoxo

  Annalise

  His heart beat furiously, like it had a thousand wings, trying to carry him away to her. When he called, her phone went straight to voicemail. He called a few more times but she didn’t answer. That was unlike her.

  At some point, he crashed on his couch, the lights of Vegas flickering brightly throu
gh the windows, watching over him.

  His phone bleated sometime well after midnight. Blinking, he rubbed his eyes and hunted for it. He must have knocked it off the couch, since it sounded from the floor. He grabbed it, a slow smile spreading across his face when he saw her name.

  Sliding his thumb over the screen, he answered, his voice still gravelly from sleep. “Hey you.”

  “Hi. Is there any chance your bed fits two?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Anticipation skated across her flesh as she walked down the hallway on the twentieth floor, as she raised her fist, as she rapped on his door.

  In less than five seconds, he opened it, looking sleep-rumpled and impossibly sexy. His black hair was a mess, his jawline was thick with stubble, and his blue eyes twinkled.

  He wore black pants and a striped button-down shirt. The top two buttons were undone, and the shirt was wrinkled. It was nearly one; her flight had been late. She was slated to have landed at nine, and while she’d toyed with emailing him from the plane, she’d opted for the surprise.

  There was something both comforting and appealing in knowing the other person would like the surprise…of you.

  A slow smile spread across his face as he drank her in, then before either one of them said a word, he tugged her inside, ran his fingers through her hair, and kissed her like crazy. She wanted to melt in his arms and spend the night like this.

  When he broke the kiss, she nearly stumbled, woozy and drunk on him. He reached for her arm, steadying her, then he brushed a few loose strands of hair from her face, flashing a casual grin. “So what brings you to town?”

  She collected her thoughts, shifting away from his kiss. “Your soon-to-be sister-in-law hired me for a boudoir session. And she asked if I’d want to photograph her wedding, too. Seems she heard I don’t get away from France much unless it’s for work, so she arranged two jobs for me here. I don’t usually do weddings, but I find jobs in Vegas have a particular appeal,” she said with a sly grin.

  Michael smiled, too. “She’s a clever one.”

  “I’m excited to meet her,” she said, then cast her eyes to her suitcase. “Is it presumptuous for me to not book a hotel room for the next few days?”

  He shook his head, taking the suitcase and shutting the door behind her. “It would be criminal for you to stay anywhere else.”

  She glanced around, drinking in his home for the first time ever. His was sparse and neat. A wide gray L-shaped couch overlooked a glittering view of the city. A metal coffee table was littered with magazines, papers, and a silver laptop. In a cabinet was a huge TV screen, and a stereo system perched beneath it. She suspected Michael listened to music more than he watched TV. On the walls were framed photos of his family. His brothers and sister, a black-and-white border collie, and a picture of Michael and his father from many years ago.

  But her interest in the setting waned quickly. She had more important matters on her mind, and in her heart.

  “Did you get my letter?”

  “I did. I loved it,” he said with a simple smile.

  And that was all it took. She was unleashed. She was free. She’d flown across an ocean to surprise him, she’d come to his home to tell him her heart, and she was no longer going to let her fear of losing rule the day.

  “I love you,” she blurted out, standing in the quiet entryway of his home.

  The corners of his eyes crinkled. “You do?”

  She nodded and couldn’t stop the grin from bursting across her face. “I love you, Michael. I just do.”

  “You’re not just falling in love with me?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

  “I’m. In. Love. With. You.” She took her time enunciating every word, then she held his face in her hands. He sighed happily and closed his eyes. She tilted her chin to kiss him, brushing her lips on his. “I love you. Now answer the question.”

  He broke the kiss and scratched his head. “What was the question?”

  “Will you let me?” she asked, playfully imploring.

  He tapped his chin as if considering her request. Then he laughed and tugged her close. “Yes. God, yes. Hell yes. And I’m sorry if I handled things poorly in Paris. I’m sorry for being distant and pulling back. I’m just so consumed with you, and I don’t want to be your second best. Your runner-up.”

  She shook her head. “You’re not. I have a big heart. There is room in it to love again, fully and deeply. I don’t want it to be a competition, Michael. All I know is this,” she said, slowing her words, meeting his gaze. “I love you, and because of that now I’m terrified of losing you. Even so, I won’t let that stop me from feeling everything with you. Because I do feel everything, and I want to keep on loving you. Just let me love you with all I have.”

  He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he nodded. “Yes. It is always yes with you. You’re all I want. Now and always.”

  “The same,” she whispered. “It’s the same for me with you.”

  She pressed a kiss to his chest then traveled up his neck, layering his throat with kisses, his jaw, his ear. She nibbled on his earlobe, and he groaned. Then he scooped her up in his arms, strode across the hardwood floors of his apartment, kicked open the door to his bedroom, and set her down. Whispering sweet, dirty words, he stripped off all her clothes as she took off his shirt.

  “I missed you,” he said, his voice soft and vulnerable as he pushed her red panties to the ground.

  “I missed you, too.”

  He slid a finger between her legs, gliding across her aching pussy. “And I missed fucking you.”

  “God, I missed that so much, too.”

  “And making love to you. And hearing you come. It’s my favorite thing in the world—making you come,” he said, dipping his head to her neck, sucking on her flesh as he rubbed his finger across her hot center. “The sounds you make. How you say my name.”

  She gasped. “I love it all with you. I want it all with you.”

  “Now?” he asked in a sexy growl.

  “Now, please now,” she said, begging as she unzipped his pants and he kicked them off.

  “Show me how wild you are for me,” he said, rough and commanding as he sank down on the bed, patting his chest. “Here. Ride my face, my love. I need you to come on my lips before I fuck you.”

  Sparks zipped across her skin as she climbed over him, straddling his face. With strong arms, and a ravenous look in his eyes, he pulled her onto his mouth, and kissed her wet pussy.

  “Oh God,” she cried out, and in seconds, they found a rhythm. She rocked against his face, and he gripped her hips, his strong fingers digging into the flesh of her ass as he devoured her.

  He wasn’t teasing. He wasn’t playful. He was a hungry man, and he was eating her. With each lick, a savage pleasure tore through her body, twisting and coiling inside her. She thrust against him, moaning and fucking his tongue. With her hands braced against the wall, her hips moved in a frenzy, and he devoured her pussy, sucking, kissing, licking until she was mindless with pleasure and aching to come.

  Then a hot flush raced over her skin, and desire curled inside her, shattering in a white-hot, neon burst in her body. His name tumbled from her lips as she cried out.

  She barely had time to come down from her high when he shifted her off him, tugged her down the bed, and spread her legs wide. He stroked his rock-hard dick, staring at her legs. “So beautiful. You taste so fucking good. I want to eat you all the time. I want to have you in every way,” he said, then lowered himself between her legs and sank inside.

  In one deliciously intense thrust.

  Her eyes rolled closed and her back bowed. “God, it’s so good.”

  He pushed, thrust deep, then lowered his chest to hers. “So fucking good. And do you know why?”

  “Because I love you,” she answered in a murmur.

  “Because I fucking love you, too.”

  And that was it. That was why she was in another world with Michael Sloan, fuck
ing, and falling, and loving, and living, and feeling. So much feeling. Every nerve snapped, every cell blazed, everything else faded as he fucked her with so much passion, so much need, and so much love that she nearly burst. She wanted him now, she wanted him always, and she wanted him to know that he was hers, and she was his, and she would give him everything. As the pleasure built inside her again, nearing another crest, she tugged him even closer, whispering in his ear. Nothing complicated. Nothing artful. Just the three simple words that she knew he’d longed to hear. She’d never known anyone to love so deeply, so intensely, and she wanted him to have everything he wanted.

  Her.

  She could finally give him herself.

  “I love you,” she gasped, as another orgasm crashed into her, and he fucked her through it, chasing his own release.

  * * *

  “Well, that was a helluva surprise,” he said minutes later, flopping on his back next to her in bed.

  She laughed. “Glad you liked it.”

  “My favorite surprise ever,” he said, then rolled to his side, resting his head in his hand. He traced a line down to her waist. “So Sophie helped you plan this?”

  Annalise nodded. “She’s quite a romantic.”

  “She seems to be.” He sighed. “Just wish I didn’t have to work at all while you’re here. I have so much exploring to do,” he said, traveling across her stomach with his fingers, letting her know which terrain he meant. “I want to do everything with you,” he whispered, squeezing her rear, letting his meaning register.

  She met his gaze with wide, earnest eyes. “Anything,” she said in her sexy vulnerable voice. “You can do anything with me.” Then she stopped and raised a finger. “Well, maybe not pee on me or anything like that.”

  Cracking up, he tugged her close and planted a kiss on her collarbone. “Yeah, not that. Definitely not that.”

  “But as for you having to work…” She dragged a finger down his sternum.

  “What about it?”

  “I have this photo shoot, but Sophie talked to Ryan,” she said, her tone conspiratorial, like she was sharing a secret in high school.