Page 67 of Tastes Like Summer

“I’m not lonely,” I say, a bit taken aback.

“I don’t mean lonely, exactly. But maybe just tired of dealing with everything on your own? A little overwhelmed?” He grimaces, as if terrified of offending me. “Please don’t be mad—I don’t mean anything by it—but I just want us to be honest. I wanted to make sure you were okay and felt supported because I get the feeling you rarely get that. And… as I’ve told you before, I care about you. I don’t know…” He scratches the back of his head in that way he does when he’s bashful or insecure. “I want you to know that I’m here. For whatever. Not because I want sex or anything—though believe me, I’m trying really hard to control myself because holy shit these PJs of yours are filling me with all sorts of ideas—but because I care about you.”

My lungs have stopped working, Michael’s words rendering them completely and utterly useless. I feel the stinging in my eyes build, the space in my chest that holds my heart shrink, and the way I want him grows tenfold. “Michael,” I whisper, the ache in my voice surprising us both.

“I’m serious.” And there’s so much weight to those two words, so much meaning behind them.

With a sniff, I stand. “I know.” I use my grip in his hands to tug at him, wordlessly leading him out of the living room and into his bedroom.

I stop at the foot of the bed, eyes locked on Michael’s bare chest. When my hands hesitantly reach up to touch him, to feel his pecs beneath my palms, a smattering of chest hair tickling me as I explore him, he inhales sharply. Even in the stormy darkness of the bedroom, I can tell his eyes have grown fierce, his hands at his side flex and release over and over again as if wanting to reach out and grab me, too.

We’ve done this before—kiss and more—but, for some reason, this feels like everything. Like a defining moment in who we are and what we could be together.

Michael brings his hands up to cup my face, moving even closer to me, our lips brushing as he says, “I never knew I could feel this way, Diana.”

I gasp at the sound of my name—my real name—not the anglicized version of it, but the Spanish one. The way his voice wraps around the two soft syllables heat my skin and melt my heart. Such a small gesture with such huge significance to me.

A bashful laugh bursts through him. “Was that any good? Or did I butcher it? I’ve been practicing, wanting to pronounce it the way it deserves to be spoken. I want to be part of that special group of people in your life that get to call you by your actual name.”

I swallow to hold back the tears, taking a deep breath before answering because he understands perfectly how something so small can mean so damn much. “It was perfect. You’re perfect,” I breathe.

“I think we’re perfect. Together. I want this so much. I want you so much.” With an intensity I wasn’t expecting, Michael’s lips press against mine, his tongue eagerly parting them, a low moan building in the back of his throat.

Without further hesitation, I let my hands travel, both knotting into his thick, blonde hair. I tug forcefully when Michael bands an arm around my back, arcing me into him, his other hand making its way up my sleep shirt to my tits.

When he kisses my neck, I let my head fall back—both to give him more room and because I’ve lost all control of the muscles in my body. If it weren’t for Michael’s tight grip around me, I’m positive I’d be nothing more than a melted puddle on the floor—syrupy and blissful from his touch and words, but a puddle nonetheless.

“Can I take your shirt off?” he asks with so much caution I almost laugh.

Feeling me naked seems so mild after what we did on his kitchen counter. But I suppose the tremble in his voice that matches the one taking over my body is justifiable—like he said, this moment right here feels like more.

So I raise my arms in invitation, letting him pull at the hem of my sleep shirt, slipping it easily off over my head.

Lighting strikes nearby, illuminating my skin as I stand vulnerable in front of him, even if for a brief second. When the thunder follows, his hands are grazing me at my sides, caressing my ribs with such reverence I can’t breathe.

I’m not scared, though. I’m safe.

Michael’s lips part, his eyes wide on me as he shakes his head. “I still can’t believe this summer happened—is happening. I can’t believe you’re here with me now, like this.” He frowns, conflicted. “I know this is fucked and what lead to you being here in my bed is a scary situation, but I’m so happy you are.”

I press a soft kiss to his lips, hoping to free him from whatever conflict is brewing behind those eyes, before pushing his boxers down over his hips. When I start kissing down his chest, down his abs, he reaches out to grab hold of my shoulders.

“Not now. Not tonight.”

I laugh once at the serious expression on his face. “What? Why not?”

He swallows once and frowns. “I don’t know. I felt wild last time we were together, but tonight feels different.”

“Different how?” And despite the hunger in his eyes, the beautiful words he breathed against my skin, and the amazing support he was today, a large part of me immediately assumes the worst: he’s lost interest or changed his mind.

Sensing my insecurities, he pulls me quickly to my feet, covering my face in kisses as he whispers, “No” in between each one. “I only meant this feels more special. And while I’d love to do that soon, it’s not what I want now.” His lips trail down my neck, sucking and biting as he walks me backwards to the bed. When the backs of my knees hit the mattress, we slowly move onto it. I back up all the way, but Michael takes his time to look at me as I lie there, half naked, waiting for him.

“You know, I’ve imagined you in my bed about a thousand times.”

“Yeah?”

He nods, that signature dimpled smirk of his turning me into putty. “Yeah. In a million different ways. But nothing has ever come close to this moment right here to the real thing.” Like a panther ready to have his prey, he climbs over me. Only this predator kisses his way up my stomach and sternum, stopping to kiss each breast before kissing me softly on the lips. “Whenever I thought of you here, I thought of it rough.”

“And is that what you want tonight?” I whisper.