“It’s not just sex. It’s… it’s us.” There’s the tiniest line on his forehead that makes him look vulnerable as he speaks. “I feel better when I’m around you. I want you around me all the time. I need to know—”
“I know.” I press a kiss to his brow, smoothing the line away. “I want to be with you, Michael. I want to be yours, I want you to be mine. More than I’ve ever wanted anything.”
He lets out a relieved breath. “Good,” he murmurs, tightening his grip on me. He takes my mouth, his tongue claiming mine as he presses himself up deep inside me.
This time it’s slower, like a smoldering fire on the brink of bursting into flames. We gaze at each other, moving together as I rock on his lap, relishing every sign of pleasure on the other’s face. Our mouths communicate wordlessly, our tongues merging as we both tip over the edge, clutching one another, becoming one.
We sit there, holding each other close as our breathing returns to normal, and I realize something that makes my heart race more than anything we’ve done so far.
I’m not just crazy about him. I’m falling for him. Hard.
36
I wake to the feeling of a strong arm across my waist. It takes me a moment to remember where I am, and when I do, happiness bubbles through me.
I’m in Michael’s bed. In Michael’s bed.
Sweet Jesus, I have died and gone to heaven.
We’ve been snowed in at the cabin for five nights now, and each morning that I’ve woken up in this spot I’ve had to remind myself where I am—and that I’m not dreaming.
The past five days have been bliss. There’s no other word for it. Michael is so affectionate, so smitten, and I just feel cherished in a way I never have. And the sex—fuck. The sex is like nothing else; raw and dirty, sweet and tender. Everything I need it to be.
We’ve barely left the bedroom but when we have, I’ve been hard at work on my romance novel. After several days of Michael’s undivided attention, my lips bruised from his kiss, my skin worn smooth by the path of his hands, I let myself write the part I’d been hesitating on for so long. I wrote the happy ending.
It’s terrifying letting myself free-fall like this, back into that place where I’m daring to believe that I might get a happily ever after. But it’s also exhilarating. Because if I do… that will be everything.
I roll over to gaze at Michael, his head heavy against the pillow, his eyes still closed, the thick lashes dark against the creamy-white of his cheek. Before I can stop myself, I reach a hand up to that cheek, just wanting to touch him. His sleepy eyes flutter open and crease into his gorgeous smile.
“Good morning, beautiful.” In one swift move, his arm spins me and pulls me hard up against him, so we are spooning.
Oh God. I never want to leave this exact spot. I could die right here and I’d be happy.
I feel an unmistakable hardness pressing against my butt and I wiggle playfully against him. A sexy grunt comes from his mouth as he kisses along my shoulder, into my neck, over my earlobe. All the nerve endings in my body tingle and I twist around to face him. He gropes about on the nightstand for a condom before we give in again to the ache we have for each other, the ache that never seems to go away, no matter how many times we make love.
When we finally lie still, our limbs tangled in the sheets and our breathing heavy, our lust satiated for now, I gaze at the ceiling dreamily. I still cannot believe I’m here, in Michael’s arms.
After a while he says, “I think we can probably go home today.”
A knot forms in my stomach and I pull the sheets up to my armpits, anxious at the thought of going back to the city. Sure, I’m ready to leave the house, believe me, but I am a bit worried about what will happen with us back home. I’ve tried not to let my mind go there, but what if Justin does end up offering me the job? Then what will I do?
I force the thought from my head. I can’t think about all that. I don’t want to think about it.
Michael shifts onto his side and props his head up on his hand, gazing at me. “If it were up to me, we’d never leave,” he murmurs, reaching across and trailing his finger along my arm. “But I have to get back to Henry.”
I roll my head to the side and give Michael a tentative smile. Is he worried about going back to the city too? Is he worried about how our new relationship will hold up in the real world?
He scans my face. “You okay?”
Of course everything will be fine, I tell myself. The problem with my fantasy self is that it’s just as skilled at imagining disasters as it is the good stuff.
I lean over to kiss the tip of his nose. “I’m more than okay. Shall I make us some coffee?”
He nods, settling back against the pillows with a happy sigh.
I slip out of the covers and pull on my underwear, glancing around the room for my clothes. My eyes land on Michael’s hooded sweater and I reach for it, pulling it on. I bury my face in the fabric, inhaling the scent of his woodsy cologne and soap, feeling all snuggly.
“Hey,” he protests mildly, but when I turn to him, his mouth hooks into grin. “Shit, you look sexy. Come back here.”
I giggle. “In a minute. Let me get coffee.”
See? Everything will be fine.
Michael is quiet on the ride home. His hand is resting on my leg, and my own hand is
