Page 45 of Tastes Like Summer

My tears spill over down my cheeks in quiet sobs. I’m bone-tired. Weary. My brain, heart, and body are a minute away from collapsing from this nerve-wracking day. As if reading my mind, Michael pulls me into his arms, holding me tightly to him. The tears come more easily now when I wrap my arms around his waist. He whispers comforting words in my ear, and I’ve never felt this grateful for anything in my life.

“Shh. It’s okay. Everything is okay. Your girls are okay and so are you. I’m here to help with whatever you need.”

I try to apologize between sobs, my mouth muffled by his shoulder. “I’m s-s-so sorry. You’ve been so great, and I y-y-yelled at you. But I’m just s-so tired, and wish the girls and I could just get a break for once.”

“Hey. Don’t worry about me. Seriously. I would’ve been just as terrified as you. Now, let’s go outside before they hear you.”

He takes me by the hand, but I pull away. “But the girls. I want to see them, and make sure they’re okay, and⁠—”

“I told you, the girls are fine. But if they see you like this now, they’re going to get upset. You can’t keep repressing this shit, though. Let’s sit outside, and we can talk about this.”

We take a seat on one of the lounge chairs by the pool, his arm around me.

“Tell me what’s going on. And not the Diana I-don’t-need-anyone’s-help version. The real version.”

My tear-covered face is buried in his neck as I begin to word-vomit. “Work is exhausting and handling all this s-s-stuff on my own is exhausting. And Rodrigo won’t even answer the damn phone or Cami and Emi’s letters.” My heart aches when I think of how easily my ex-husband has cast his daughters aside, how heartless he’s become. “It’s been months since they’ve heard from h-h-him, and they keep asking where their dad is and I don’t know what to say. And we’re gonna have to go back to reality soon. But I still haven’t found an apartment in Denver and work is great but I feel s-s-so frustrated because I know I’m so much more capable than these kids that get to boss me around, and it makes me feel like a horrible person, but I do feel that way. And then there’s Emi’s diagnosis and how much I wish I knew how to manage it better. How much I want to give her the most normal life. How am I gonna give her that? How am I going to give either of my girls that when their mother is a mess? Especially when their mother is the single most selfish person in the world, obviously, since I’m here complaining about⁠—”

“Diana.” The assertiveness in Michael’s voice brings my manic rambling to a stop.

“What?” I whisper, looking up into his dark green eyes.

He reaches up to cup my face with both hands, wiping the tears from my cheeks. “You are the strongest woman I have ever met in my life. I am truly in awe of everything that you do every day for everyone, and I will never allow you or anyone else to ever call you selfish. You are the most selfless person—to a fault, I believe. Those girls in there? Yeah, they fucking adore you. They love their mother. And maybe they give you shit, but guess what? That’s kids. You are not only doing your best, but you are also doing a great job with them. It’s reflected in who those kids are. And if I hear you call yourself selfish or a bad parent again, I’m going to get so mad at you. I never want to hear you put yourself down again. Not you. Not ever.” His eyes are fierce. I have never seen anyone look so determined, so serious.

I stare with wonder at Michael’s handsome face as he looks back at me with reverence and loyalty. Like he’s a knight from the Middle Ages ready to go to battle against an entire army for his queen. His breathing grows ragged, and I notice mine does, too. In the heat of it all, I can barely catch my breath while my heart takes off and the need for him I’ve been repressing rears its head.

Want.

I stare up at him, his face just inches away from mine, dumb-struck. “I—I don’t know what to say.”

And that’s when I see that same hunger I’ve been carrying with me, hidden away, is clearly reflected in his face.

“Don’t say a thing,” he murmurs.

And without another word, Michael’s hands slide to the nape of my neck, they tangle in my hair. He brings his face closer still, lips only millimeters away from my own. His gaze bounces from my mouth to my eyes in question, and I want to scream Yes! from the top of my lungs. I can taste the scent of him on my tongue, fill my lungs with it on every inhale wishing it stays with me forever. I nod once on a sigh and just with that, he murmurs my name before bringing his lips to mine.

It’s… the best kiss I’ve ever had. The best kiss that has ever existed in the history of the universe. It starts off slow, but the heat of it immediately starts to build everywhere—especially low, between my thighs. I sink into him, his body warm and hard and soft at the same time. He groans into my mouth when I pull at him, running my hands over his shoulders, scratching him with my nails and secretly hoping I leave tracks on his skin—marking him physically in the same way he’s marked me emotionally. My breathing is already embarrassingly ragged when he moves to my neck, his hand sliding beneath my shirt, settling over my ribs in a commanding hold. I moan at the touch, the ache between my legs, the feeling of emptiness growing with every second. His lips feel incredible everywhere, but I need them back on mine, need to taste him.

With every passing second, we pull each other closer, but the position is uncomfortable and it’s like we can’t get enough of what we need. Always the mindreader, Michael wraps his arms around my waist and, in a move that can only be described as acrobatic, manages to flip me on my back, adjust the lounge chair to lay fully flat, and crawls over me in a matter of seconds.

“Yes,” I hear myself moan, one hand in his hair, another on his (perfect) denim-clad ass.

“God, Diana,” he groans into my neck. “I’ve been waiting to kiss you since…” A sigh. “Since what feels like forever.”

One hand is under my bra, thumb rubbing over my nipple, driving me crazy. The other travels over my waist and hip, moves down all the way to my knee, where Michael proceeds to hook my leg up over his hip.

I inhale sharply when he readjusts himself to fit perfectly in between my legs and pushes forward once, my clit throbbing. “Oh my god.” The ridge of his cock hits my sensitive nerves just right, making me throw my head back in pleasure.

“I want to feel how wet you are. I dream of tasting you and driving you wild.”

I whimper, and I think I beg him for exactly that. If I weren’t so lost in the delicious way he thrusts his hips into me, I’d be a bit more embarrassed. But I just can’t bring myself to care.

He’s hard. And big. Big big. Like, he must have an actual eggplant in his pants or something big.

I want that. I want him.

Close. I’m so close.

But I want it all. I want to go back into the house, have him throw me on my bed, and⁠—