by Noelle Adams
She let out a little sob of relief at the sight of his familiar, handsome face and strong body. There was dirt and sweat on his skin and on his clothes, but she reached out for him instinctively when he came over and sat on the edge of the bed.
He took the phone from her hand and put one of his arms around her as she burrowed against his side.
“We’ve got him, sir,” Michael told her father on the phone. “Thomas Waverly. He worked for the catering company we used for the party last night.”
Her father must have said something, but Claire couldn’t hear what it was. She didn’t even care at the moment, since Michael’s arm was holding her so tightly she couldn’t breathe.
She wanted it. Needed it.
Michael and her father had a brief conversation. From the side she heard, Waverly must have worked briefly for the studio before he’d gotten the job with the catering company. Then they made plans about what to do next.
The next stretch of time passed in a blur. Michael hung up with her father and called the police to arrange to bring Waverly down to be arrested. They had to wake Roger up, so he could drive Pete and Waverly into town to the station.
Claire just waited through the logistics, curled up in bed—so overwhelmed with emotion that she was afraid she might actually pass out from it. All her life, with any strong emotion, she’d felt the same way—as if she had to pull it in to contain it, since her feelings were too deep to channel, too powerful to express.
She’d always secretly wondered whether people who could express emotions easily didn’t feel them as deeply as she did. Rationally, she knew that wasn’t right, but it was the only way she could understand it.
Finally, after the others left, Michael came back into her room.
She sat up again, trembling with something that wasn’t fear. “I didn’t need to go talk to the police too?”
He stood next to the bed. “Not tonight. You’ll have to talk to them tomorrow, but we can schedule a time and you can get a lawyer to go with you.”
“Oh. Okay. So everything is all right for now?”
“Yes. Everything is all right.” He didn’t leave, but he also didn’t move. He stood completely motionless and kept gazing at her, something unspeakably deep in his eyes.
“Okay.” She was still shaking, and it was visible in her hands, audible in her voice.
“It’s all over now.”
“Okay.”
“Claire, honey,” he murmured hoarsely, “You’re still trembling. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong.” It wasn’t. She was just feeling too much—all the emotions centered on the man in front of her.
“Then tell me what you’re thinking.”
She cleared her throat and made herself say it. “Michael is the warrior angel, standing in the gap for the hosts of God.”
His face softened with something she knew—she knew—was powerful emotion. Like her, he couldn’t always express it. “In that little scenario, are you God then?”
She giggled at his dry, fond tone, but her voice broke as she admitted, “No. God would never have been as scared as I was.”
“I would never have let anything happen to you.”
“I know that. I was scared for you.”
And that was what broke the shuddering tension between them.
With a burst of thick sound, he reached down for her and pulled her up into a kiss. She grabbed for him urgently, clawing at his shoulders as feeling and sensation overwhelmed her, finally unleashed.
She managed to pull him into the bed with her, and they couldn’t seem to stop kissing. He was hot and heavy on top of her, and she tugged at his shirt until she’d managed to untuck it. She slid her hands along the tight skin of his back.
His mouth devoured her, but hers was just as ravenous, just as needy.
“Fuck, Claire,” he muttered, finally breaking the kiss but only to mouth his way along her jaw and down to the throbbing pulse in her neck. “You’re so sweet. So beautiful.”
She whimpered in pleasure—at both the words and the sensations—and then she arched up helplessly when he lowered his head even further and took a nipple in his mouth through the fabric of her gown.
Already aching with arousal, she tried to wrap one of her legs around his hip, writhing beneath him as he fondled and teased.
When the sensations were almost too much, she tugged at his hair until he lifted his head. His skin was damp and his blue eyes intensely hot.
He just stared down at her, as if he couldn’t look away.
She used his distraction to grab his shirt and start undoing the buttons. He helped her with it until she could drop it over the side of the bed, and then he pulled his t-shirt off over his head, letting her rub her palms over the delicious texture of his chest.
He wiped at his face with the back of his forearm. “Shit. I’m going to get you all sweaty and dirty. I should have taken a shower first.”
A ripple of amusement overtook her, a needed relief from the intensity, and she laughed helplessly and pulled him into a hug. “I definitely couldn’t wait for you to take a shower. I can’t wait at all. I want you now.” To prove her point, she rubbed her arousal shamelessly against his hip.
He kissed her again, holding her head in place with one hand. When their lips parted, he murmured, “I want you too. You have no idea how much.”
“I can feel a little bit of how much.” She managed to get her hand between their bodies and press against the bulge of his erection.
“Just a little bit, huh?” Despite his ironic tone, his breath hitched audibly as she caressed him.
“Maybe a little more than a little bit.”
He chuckled as he kissed her, but their embrace quickly spiraled out of control again.
As urgency took over, she fumbled with his trousers until she’d undone them and then tried to push them down over his hips. He was too distracted by trying to kiss her and pull her gown over her head simultaneously to help her very much so she had some trouble getting his clothes off. She managed eventually.
Both of them naked at last, their embrace grew even hungrier, hotter, the feel of his skin against hers a delicious form of torture. When he lowered his mouth to her breasts again, she gasped, “Please, I need you now, Michael.”
“But you won’t be ready for me yet, will you?” He lifted his head to look down at her, a slight concern shading the desire radiating off him. He reached down between her legs and slid his fingers across her aroused flesh, testing her readiness.
She huffed with laughter and arousal both as he stroked her. He would feel just how wet she already was, despite their brief and somewhat clumsy foreplay. “I need you now,” she repeated, clawing at his ass in an attempt to pull him into place.
He started to settle between her legs when he jerked without warning. “Condom.”
She couldn’t believe she’d almost forgotten. She’d never been so completely overwhelmed with need and feeling before. She’d always enjoyed sex very much, but it had never taken over everything else. “In the drawer,” she said, nodding at the nightstand.
He grabbed a condom and rolled it on quickly. Then he repositioned himself and used his hand to line up his erection at her entrance.
She’d parted her thighs to make room for him, and now she rocked her hips up to meet him, desperate to feel him inside her.
“Are you sure about this, honey?” he asked hoarsely, his eyes meeting hers, just on the cusp of connection.
“Yes, yes, please. I want you so much.”
He slid in slowly, pulling back once to reangle the penetration. She arched from the pleasure and pressure as his hard length sank deeper inside her.
When he’d finished his thrust, Michael braced himself above her, breathing heavily. She could tell he was trying to compose himself, but she couldn’t wait for him to catch his breath. She started to move her hips eagerly, trying to ride him from below, already feeling the sensations intensifying.
&nbs
p; “Fuck, Claire. Hold on—“ Michael’s voice was thick and breathless, and he jerked his head to the side, trying to hold himself still with so much effort that his body shook visibly.
“I can’t,” she gasped, “I need…I need…” Her body felt out of control—from emotion as much as physical sensation.
With a low groan, Michael gave up the fight to control himself. All the tension he kept coiled tightly inside him let go in that moment. He began to thrust hard, fast, urgent.
She cried out as she felt him let go, since it was exactly what she wanted. She matched his motion as the world narrowed down to nothing but this rhythm, this hunger, this heat, Michael’s intense blue eyes holding hers without wavering.
This was what she wanted—Michael stripped of his stoic mask and fully with her, with her, at last.
He grunted as he moved above her and inside her, and she clawed lines down his back and on his ass as she felt an orgasm tighten improbably soon. Their motion was carnal, primitive—a perfect expression of feelings they were finally allowed to channel.
She heard herself making sobbing sounds as her body shook with her approaching climax. Her mouth opened with a soundless cry as the pleasure broke in intense waves of pleasure.
Michael froze for a moment as her channel clenched hard around him. Then he lost it, his hips jerking against hers in a few fast, tight thrusts as he choked on a broken exclamation.
She’d come down enough to see his face twist in pleasure. Witnessing his release was just as powerful as her own orgasm.
He was always so controlled. Knowing he’d lost his control—with her—knit something together in her heart.
When the last wave of his release worked itself through him, his elbows buckled, and he barely caught himself before his weight landed on her. But she pulled him down on her anyway, wrapping her arms around him and wanting to feel him now just as much as she had before.
He panted against her neck, pressing little kisses against her skin. She hugged him, loving how his body softened in her arms.
When he lifted his head at last, she saw something soft and ironic both in his eyes.
She smiled in response to the expression and in response to the overflow of affection in her chest.
“Well, that lasted all of two minutes,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss the corner of her mouth. “Rather pathetic performance, really.”
She smiled against his lips. “No, it wasn’t. I loved it.”
“I did too. But give me a minute or two, and I promise I can do better.”
She laughed and hugged him again, and warm delight washed over her as she heard him laugh too.
Before she wanted to let him go, he pulled up and away until she had to release him. “I need to take care of the condom,” he explained.
She watched as he got up to dispose of it, admiring the strong, masculine lines of his naked body. He must have seen her looking at him because he arched his eyebrows as he got back into bed.
“You’ve got a very nice ass,” she told him when he stretched out beside her and propped his head up on his hand to look down on her.
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Thanks. At the moment, it has a few scratches on it.”
She felt her cheeks warm, since she knew he was speaking the truth. She’d been very enthusiastic earlier. “You’ve got no one to blame for that but yourself. You were moving too slow.”
“I’ve never been accused of that before, but I’ll work on it.” He gently pulled back the sheet she’d covered herself up with, his eyes lingering on her bare breasts, belly, and groin. “You’ve got very nice everything,” he murmured.
The hot look in his eyes made her cheeks warm even more. She would have felt self-conscious if not for the obvious appreciation in his expression. Before she could think of anything witty to say in response, he leaned down to brush his lips against hers.
The kiss was soft, almost sweet, and she felt a little melty as he raised his head a few inches to gaze down on her. When he lowered his face for another kiss, she reached up and combed her fingers through his wavy, dark hair.
He stroked the insides of her lips with his tongue. She opened her mouth for him instinctively and sighed in pleasure as he deepened the kiss. It lasted a long time, not growing needy so quickly this time, but eventually he pulled away from her mouth so he could kiss his way down her body.
He took his time, caressing and teasing her with his skillful lips and his strong hands. By the time he’d reached her belly, Claire was pulsing with arousal again and tossing her head restlessly on the pillow.
He parted her legs and stroked her intimately with his fingers. She gasped when he slid his fingers into her wet channel. Then he lowered his mouth to her clit, teasing it with his tongue. She gave a little huff at each jolt of pleasure.
Soon the sensations had coalesced into a growing climax. She couldn’t stay still and she couldn’t stay quiet as they intensified, so she clutched the bedding with one hand and with the other she held Michael’s head in place between her thighs.
He was stroking her with two fingers and sucking on her clit, and soon she came so hard she had to stifle a loud cry by biting her bottom lip.
Her body relaxed deliciously as the waves of pleasure finally eased, and Michael raised his head, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Oh God, thank you,” she breathed, reveling in the physical satisfaction and the thrill of Michael’s having done that for her. “That was incredible.”
“I told you I could do better.” He was smiling as he kissed his way back up to her mouth. She could still taste herself on his lips, and she didn’t even care.
He was hard again. She snuck a hand between their bodies so she could massage his erection as they kissed. His body was tightening, although not as intensely as it had before. He wasn’t going to lose control yet.
After a few minutes of kissing, she reached over for a condom and made him roll over so she could put it on. Then he pulled her on top of him until she was straddling his hips, and he held his erection in place and helped her lower herself over him, sheathing his hard length in her body.
She moved over him slowly, trying to find a pleasing angle and rhythm. She was usually self-conscious on top, but she loved the way he gazed up at her, his eyes caressing her hot face, her naked breasts, and the place farther down where they were joined.
He lifted a hand to cup her face, and his expression held such tenderness it took her breath away.
She’d never known—she’d just never known—that this passionate man existed beneath the stoic Michael she’d always seen before.
“Can you come, honey?” he asked, when she’d slowed down because her thighs were getting tired.
“Not like this.” She rubbed his chest—the firm muscles, the ripples of his ribs, the coarse dark hair that she loved to feel beneath her palms. “But I’m good. You can come if you need to.”
He shook his head. “I told you I could do better this time.” He lifted her hips until he’d slid out of her, and then he turned them both over, so she was on her back and he was on top of her. He spread her legs a little wider and bent one of them up toward her chest. Then he entered her again.
She moved with him as he started to thrust, and soon the tender look in his eyes shifted into the hungry, urgent one. It seemed to spur her on too because the friction caused her nerve endings to fire off in quick succession.
She’d been holding onto his shoulders, but now she started to claw at him again. She wrapped her legs around his middle, hooking them on the second try. He slid in a little deeper, and she choked on a cry in response.
“Good,” he grunted, “Good, honey. Come for me.” His hips were working hard and fast, and the tension was just on the verge of releasing.
She came, shuddering and crying out as the climax swept over her. He kept thrusting against the contractions, extending the duration as she rode out her orgasm.
Then he finally let himself come too, le
tting go on another broken exclamation that sounded almost like her name.
Again, she was able to watch as climax hit him. Again, she reveled in the sight of his familiar face so completely overwhelmed with what he was feeling.
She wrapped her arms around him when it was over, and this time neither of them needed to speak.
She was exhausted and completely sated when he took care of the condom and got back into bed with her. He gathered her in his arms and held her close.
She snuggled against him, feeling like she should say something but just not finding the energy. She was wiped out from the very long day and night, but she didn’t want to be alone. She didn’t want to leave his arms.
After a long time, Michael shifted against her and stroked her hair. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah. I’m good. So good.” She caressed his flat belly and listened to his heart beat under her ear. “What about you?”
He lifted his head enough to kiss her hair. “I’m good too.”
It wasn’t long until she’d fallen asleep.
***
When Claire woke up an hour or so later, she was still pressed up against Michael’s side. She could sense him trying to move away, even in her half-conscious state, so she grabbed at him and tried to hold him in place.
“Don’t go,” she mumbled. “I want you here.” She burrowed against his strength and heat.
His arm—the one that was still around her—tightened palpably. “I’m here, Claire. I’m here.”
She sighed in relief when she felt his body relax, and she drifted off to sleep again.
***
The next time Claire woke up, Michael was gone for good.
Six
It was after nine when Claire woke up.
She never slept so late, but she hadn’t gone to sleep until almost four, so she was still groggy, disoriented, and a little sore when she finally rolled out of bed.
Her first thought was to look for Michael, but he was obviously not in the bedroom. His clothes, which had littered the floor last night, were gone as well.
