Some Girls Do

by Leanne Banks

  But Katie tried to stop, pulling back and drawing in deep, shuddering breaths. Her eyes were dark with the same wanting that permeated him. She shook her head ever so slightly.

  “Tell me you don't want me,” he said.

  A long moment passed where the electricity zinged inside the car like a wayward bullet looking for a place to lodge.

  Katie tried to form the words that would save her from him. Michael was like a tornado, powerful and fascinating, but she feared what would happen to her if she allowed herself to slide into him. But she felt as if she was scrambling up a rocky ledge and the rocks were breaking beneath her. She had nowhere to go, but to him.

  “I can't,” she said, her voice low and unsteady to her own ears. “I can't tell you I don't want you.”

  In a flash, he tugged her from the car and swept her to her doorway. She somehow produced her key and he took it from her to unlock the door and push it open. No sooner had the door closed than he pushed her against the wall and surrounded her with his body and kiss.

  She felt the insistent hum of needs she'd buried her entire life. His mouth was full of passion and that same need. She could feel his drive to take and give. She wanted to sink all the way into his passion. She wanted to forget everything she shouldn't do and do what she needed to do. What she needed was Michael. He knew at least some of her secrets. He knew her as more than Katie Collins, personal assistant, and he knew she was more than Sunny Collins's daughter destined for no good. He knew some of her secrets and she wanted him to teach her a few more. Her heart pounded with anticipation. She leaned against the wall and slid her fingertips through his rain-wet hair.

  Pushing his knee between her thighs, he skimmed his hand down to adjust her pelvis so that she cradled his hardness while he rolled against her. The erotic motion rolled through her like thunder. He gave a deep moan and pushed her skirt down to her ankles. His hand dipped beneath her panties and he found her wet and swollen.

  Katie's breath left her at the riot of sensations that raced through her. He stripped her panties, off and she felt a second of self-consciousness, but then he slid his finger inside her. Her inhibitions burning like tissue paper, she pushed her hands beneath his shirt and reveled in the sensation of muscle, heat, and the beating of his heart.

  He groaned, pulling his mouth from hers, and swore under his breath. “Oh, God, you feel like silk in my hands.”

  Katie felt herself melting under his touch, under his words.

  He took her hand in his and kissed it. The gesture was so sweet it made her stomach dance. Then he drew her hand down his body to where he was hard and wanting. Her heart stopped at the power of his need. It was almost as strong as hers, she thought. Almost. She hesitated a half beat while he held her with a gaze that searched hers so deeply she felt as if she might drown.

  Feeling a hard nudge from inside her to take another step, she unfastened his jeans and slid her hand inside. When she wrapped her palm around him, he let out a hiss of arousal.

  Katie stroked his length and he closed his eyes. “You feel so good.” His nostrils flared and she saw a fine sheen of perspiration bead on his forehead. “You just feel so—” He broke off as if something inside him were-cracking. “Can't wait,” he muttered and pulled her shirt up over her head. In one swift motion, he clasped her bottom and lifted her against the wall. “Wrap your legs around me,” he told her.

  Dizzy with excitement and arousal, she obeyed, and Michael pressed his face to her breasts. Her nipples were already hard pinpoints of sensitivity. He slowly rubbed his cheek from side to side. The rough texture of his whiskers didn't hurt, but instead made her even more sensitive: Her nipples tightened unbearably. He moved his head and took one deep into his mouth.

  Katie gasped at the electric sensation that traveled from breast to between her thighs. Shifting her slightly, he stroked her where she grew wet and even more swollen. The restless frenzied feeling inside her spun to fever pitch. A sound of need and frustration bubbled from her throat.

  One. Two. Three seconds later, Michael eased her onto him and thrust inside. Her eyes flew open at the invasion. He felt huge inside her. It hurt. And didn't. She saw the surprise in his eyes, felt the slightest pull back and couldn't bear it.

  “Don't say anything,” she whispered, unable to do anything about the huskiness in her voice. “Just don't…”

  “Don't what?” he asked through gritted teeth.

  “Don't stop,” she managed, feeling her body adjust to his, feeling her close around him like an intimate hug.

  His lids lowered to half-mast, he began to slowly pump and stretch inside her, filling her with sensation after sensation. She felt the coil of frustration and need inside her tighten with each stroke. The closeness of their, bodies, did something to her, touched her in a place she'd always kept guarded.

  “Give me your mouth,” he told her.

  She stretched to press her lips to his and he gave her a French kiss that made the room spin. His mouth mated with her in the same way that his body joined hers. She wanted to be as close to him as possible. She never wanted this feeling to stop. The combination of erotic sensation and emotions sent her one step closer to the vague goal she was reaching for.

  “’Too much,” Michael said against her mouth. He stiffened and swore as he thrust inside her once more, his body shuddering with pleasure. The sight and sensation of his climax was so fascinating that it distracted her from her own climb. In that one moment, he was utterly powerful, utterly vulnerable, and utterly hers. Her heart swelled and for the first time in her life, she didn't feel alone.

  Michael swore again. “You didn't come.”

  Trembling, she clung to him. “Well, I didn't go away.”

  He gave a rough chuckle and drank in a deep breath of air. Their bodies still connected, he lifted his gaze to hers and Katie's lungs stopped at the sensual expression in his dark eyes. He shook his head. “That's not what I was talking about,” he chided and shifted her to carry her to the bathroom. He let her slide down the length of his body to her not-so-steady feet, then took a deep kiss.

  Katie's knees felt like hot wax.

  Michael turned on the shower.

  “What are you—”

  Without a word, he pulled her under the warm spray with him. She wondered when her brain was going to stop feeling like sludge. She felt as if her body and emotions were flying while her mind was moving in ultra-slow motion. She tried to shake it off, but Michael kissed her again like he couldn't stay away from her and she allowed herself to sink into the sensation of the warm water and his strong body and his kiss. He moved her around so that the water streamed down her scalp and hair. When he pulled back to reach for shampoo, her surprise must have shown on her face.

  “I like your hair,” he said, lathering her hair and massaging her scalp.

  The care he took made her stomach feel funny. “I didn't know that.”

  “I like you to wear it down,” he said, pushing her under the spray to rinse the soap away. He drew her against him again and before she opened her eyes, he was lathering her breasts with soap.

  She rubbed the water from her eyes to stare at him.

  “What's wrong? Hasn't anyone ever washed you from head to toe?”

  “It's been a while,” she admitted.

  “How long?” he prodded.

  “Awhile,” she said because he knew he was her first. His soapy hands slid down her belly to between her thighs. He stroked her where she was sensitive, still swollen, reminding her of that vague something she'd been headed for earlier. He lowered his lips to hers and she loved the feeling of his wet mouth and the warm shower. She felt his hands stroke her back and bottom, always returning to the place between her thighs.

  Katie felt the restlessness inside her escalate. She moved against his hand, wanting more. He gave a murmur of approval and French-kissed her.

  Dizzy, she felt him pull back, then skim his mouth down over her breasts. She arched into his mouth and the co
mbination of his fingers inside her while he tugged at her nipple made her crazy.

  A helpless, desperate, needy sound escaped her throat.

  “I'll take care of you, baby,” he murmured, moving his mouth down her rib cage to her belly, and then he was between her legs. His tongue found her and stroked her with relentless, maddening precision.

  The pleasure was so intense she felt herself flush with heat. She felt herself reaching, reaching, climbing, and then Michael sent her flying through the air. Her body rocked with spasms of pleasure. But it wasn't enough for him. He continued to take her so completely with his mouth until her knees buckled and he caught her.

  Pulling her up with him, he held her under the shower until she began to breathe normally. Her heart, however, still hammered unevenly in her chest. She felt both full and devastated. Her brain was still chugging along like quicksand. She couldn't think of a thing to say.

  The water turned cold and he quickly pulled her from the shower. He wrapped a towel around her and dried her with such gentleness that it almost hurt, but she was too wasted to protest. After he brushed some of the moisture off his own body, he carried her to bed and followed her under the covers.

  He tucked her body against his.

  “Don't talk,” he told her.

  Good, she thought. Because I can't.

  “Don't think.”

  Her feelings were so big she was having a hard time thinking.

  “Just sleep.”

  Katie closed her eyes and followed orders.

  Michael slept like the dead, but when he awakened in the darkened room, the tension was palpable. Katie sat at the edge of the bed, naked, her arms huddled around her knees. His heart twisted at the sight. This was more than regret. He knew it and it put a bitter taste in his mouth.

  He rose and moved across the bed to her. He put a hand on her shoulder and she shot up from the bed, her arms over her breasts.

  “We didn't use anything.”

  Her voice was filled with fear and misery. Michael took a moment to digest what she'd said. Surprise, uneasiness, trickled through him. He hadn't been thinking last night. At least not with his brain. He'd acted purely on instinct, an instinct so forceful it had knocked practicality into outer space. They hadn't used protection. She obviously wasn't on the pill because she was a virgin and she hadn't expected him to nail her against the wall.

  Michael swore under his breath and rubbed his forehead. “It was only once.”

  She gave a husky chuckle edged with pure terror. “That's what parents say.”

  “I don't know what to say. I should have been thinking, but I wasn't.”

  “I can't believe I did this,” she said, her voice filled with self-loathing. “This is something my mother would have done.” She paused a moment. “This is something my mother did. Four times.” She dropped her head into her hands. “I can't believe I did this.”

  Something inside him could hardly stand her despair. Ignoring the wall she was rebuilding around her, he moved toward her and put his arms around her. “It's not definite that you're pregnant. I may have rotten swimmers.”

  She glanced up at him with disgust in her eyes. “I'm twenty-five, prime time for pregnancy and I suspect your swimmers are just fine.” She pushed away from him. “This isn't a joke.”

  “If you're pregnant, and at this point it's a big if, the situation could be worse. You and I are both reasonably mature adults. I'll take care of you.”

  Katie's sob rent the air, surprising the hell out of him, cutting at him. “You can't take care of me,” she wailed. “You can't afford me.”

  Completely confused by her extreme reaction, he shook his head. “What in hell are you talking about?”

  She turned back to him, grabbing his arms and shaking him. “I can't be pregnant,” she told him desperately. “I have to take care of Jeremy.”

  “Jeremy? Who's Jere—” He broke off as the name rang a bell from an old newspaper article he'd read on the net. “Your mother's last child. I thought he died in the explosion.”

  She shook her head solemnly and rubbed her wet cheeks with the back of her hand. “No. He survived, but his hearing didn't. He's deaf.”

  “That's why you know sign language,” he said, his mind spinning. There were too many pieces still missing to this puzzle. “So where is he?”

  “At a special residential school for the severely hearing impaired about thirty miles away from Philadelphia. I visit him every Sunday.” She hesitated, then looked down. “It's a very expensive school.”

  “That's why you took Ivan up on his offer to find a husband for Wilhemina.”

  She nodded. “It Would make a big difference in Jeremy's life. In my life. I might actually be able to fall asleep at night without worrying.” She bit her lip and gave the saddest smile he'd ever seen. “He is totally terrific and I can't let him down. I can't be pregnant.”

  Michael put his hands on her shoulders. “Priss, one night of unprotected sex doesn't guarantee a pregnancy.”

  “In my family it does,” she muttered.

  “We'll see. But this is too early to tell. You still have options.”

  “Oh, I can't even think about that. I can't think about having an—” She broke off as if she were unable to say the word.

  “I wasn't talking about that,” he said, avoiding the word out of his own discomfort.

  “And who gave you permission to call me Priss?” she asked him in that cold voice he hated.

  “I don't need your permission to call you by your real name.”

  “I'm not that person anymore. I left that girl behind a long time ago.”

  “You are that person,” he corrected. “You’ re just not your mother.”

  Her face turned pale. “I never wanted to be like her.”

  “Well, that's a lie. You probably wanted to be just like her when you were little.”

  She closed her eyes and shook her head. “No I didn't. I never ever—”

  “Just like I wanted to be like my father,” he interjected quietly.

  She opened her eyes and stared at him. She fought what he was saying, but he saw something click in her eyes. He didn't know when she would admit that he was right, but he saw the recognition of the truth in her eyes.

  “Most of us start out wanting to be like our parents until we get a reason to change our minds.”

  She looked away from him. “It doesn't matter. I just can't be pregnant.”

  “Well, if the worst scenario happens and you are, then I'll take care of you and the baby. I can,” he told her. “And I will.”

  She looked at him with a healthy dose of skepticism he wanted to wipe away.” That's the same thing they told my mother.”

  Her disbelief enraged him. He ground his teeth so hard he thought he might break his jaw. “I'm not a coward. I don't walk away from my responsibilities.” He was so furious he wanted to punch a hole through the wall. “I'm going to my room. If you need anything, call me.”

  “There's nothing wrong with enjoying a man's attention. The only problem is if the attention results in contractions nine, months later.”

  —SUNNY COLLINS'S WISDOM

  Chapter 15

  When Michael knocked on her door early the following morning, he was all business. “A charge came through on one of Wilhemina's credit cards. It's a garage in a town a couple hours away from here. We need to leave as soon as possible.”

  “I'm dressed. It won't take me but a few minutes to pack my stuff. Is fifteen minutes soon enough?”

  He nodded and turned away.

  Katie felt a gnawing sensation inside her at his cool attitude toward her after they'd, been so close. But she wasn't brave enough to close the gap. She'd been wrestling with her own demons since Michael had left her two and a half hours ago, nearly wearing out the carpet in the small hotel room pacing from one end to the other. Every once in a while in the midst of blaming herself for her foolishness and praying that she wouldn't get pregnant, Michael's face
would slide into her brain. She could see the haunting pain in his eyes. If he actually followed through on his promise to take care of her, then she wouldn't be the only one impacted. His life would be changed too. His goals would be set back too.

  If he followed through.

  That was the big question. She had watched him follow through on all his other promises, but this was different.

  The distance she'd felt between them made her feel alone. Again. She took a shallow breath at the odd pain just inside her rib cage. She had spent years learning not to rely on anyone but herself. There was no real reason to change that.

  She studied herself in the mirror for a moment. There was no need to put on lipstick or wear clothes that flattered her figure and would draw Michael's eyes to her. She could put her hair in a bun and pull on glasses, she supposed, and do an un-makeover. She lifted her hair and twisted it into a bun. It felt too tight. And stupid. Who was she trying to hide from now? She brushed her hair and put gloss on her lips since they were chapped from his kisses. True to her word, she packed her belongings and joined Michael outside. It was still raining. He grabbed her bag and hustled her into the car.

  He had done that from the beginning, she thought. Latent gentleman tendencies that always surprised her. He got in beside her and checked his GPS, then pulled out of the parking lot. The silence between them was thick with a dozen different emotions Katie didn't want to examine. When he turned on the radio, she closed her eyes and pretended to sleep. After an hour on the road, she felt the car stop.

  “Damn.”

  She glanced up and saw at least two feet of water streaming across the road in front of them. A barricade of patrol cars stretched across the road. “Flood,” she said more to herself than him.

  “It's not supposed to flood in Texas. Texas is supposed to be in a perpetual drought. Aren't they always whining about water rights?”

  Katie's lips twitched at his assessment of her native state.

  “We're in the hill country. It rains in the hill country. If it hasn't rained for a long time and then it rains too much, there's often a flood because the dry land can't absorb the water quickly enough.”