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There were so many things he could have said. So many reasons. He went with the one he thought she’d understand most.
“My mother never put me first. My father definitely didn’t. They both were too busy looking out for themselves. I see you, and I see everything that my mother should have been and wasn’t. And I see you fighting to hang on by your fingernails, when I have everything available that could help you and I haven’t done one meaningful thing with it. I’ve done nothing, except play a guitar and focus on myself.” He cupped her face and stroked her damp lower lip. “Let me focus on you so you can focus on him. Let me, Chloe.”
Chapter 23
For about the five-thousandth time, she left him hanging.
No big deal. It only felt like his chest was in a vise. Eventually the pressure would ease, right?
Chloe’s eyes went too bright before she closed them. “There’s quicksand under my feet. Everything is slipping away.”
“No, it isn’t. I swear it’s not.” Michael pressed his forehead to hers and absorbed the uneven puffs of her breath. “Lean on me for a while. Trust me to be the bedrock you need. That Axl needs.”
“That’s not fair.”
“You’re right. I don’t play fair when I’m winning back my wife.”
She sighed and the fight seemed to drain out of her. “You can’t win back what you never had.”
“Au contraire. I’ve had you now, and I remember every second. You around me so, so tight. Your pupils swallowing those beautiful browns. Those sounds of yours when you can’t take any more and I make you.”
“Michael…”
“And that, especially that. How you sound so exasperated when you say my name, but still with that little plea that lets me know I’m not alone in this. You feel just as chaotic and needy as I do.” He brushed his thumbs over her cheeks until they met over the seam of her lips. “Tell me you do, Chloe.”
“How could I not?” He moved away his thumbs so she could speak. “I saw you on that stage and you were everything I’m not. Strong. Cocky. So, so talented.”
“You’re all of those things and more. Let me show you.”
Wordlessly, he drew her toward the chaise. He grabbed the blanket and draped it around her shoulders while her gaze roamed his face. She was uncertain and worried, and he should be soothing her with words and not actions she could dismiss. But he had to do more. Not for himself.
For her. Just for her.
He bent to pull off her sandy ballet flats and then encountered more sand on the damp hems of her jeans. “You were on the beach before you came here.”
“Yeah. It’s my safe spot. Always has been.”
Something twisted in his chest. What he’d grown far too complacent in even noticing, she sought for comfort. “Now you can see safety from here.” Watching her face, he undid the button on her jeans and drew down the zipper. “While I show you anything but.”
“We’re outside. All the cameras…”
On his knees, he pressed a kiss to her peach panties as he drew down her jeans. “Tell me you don’t care. That you want this as much as I do.”
“You know I do. I’m destroying my whole life because I can’t stop wanting you.”
He didn’t know what that meant or if she’d ever spell it out for him. As much as he needed to demand answers, he needed this even more.
Her.
He pulled her jeans down her legs and tossed them on the chair beside them, then went back for her panties, hooking his thumbs in the sides. Above them, she wore a tight Rafferty’s T-shirt that revealed the full outline of her small, pert breasts. Her nipples were already distended, and he leaned up to take one between his teeth through the cotton. She moaned and grasped his head, weaving her fingers into his hair.
Fuck, he loved those subtle little tugs as she lost control. He needed more of them. Now.
“I’m going to recline all the way on this chaise, and you’re going to climb up on my face. And if anyone is taking pictures, I want you to make sure they hear you scream.”
Rather than denying him—and possibly asking if he’d lost the last of his sanity—she clasped the blanket around her shoulders. “Not going to do that through my panties,” she said, making him grin.
“Oh, I could. But for the sake of argument, you win.” He yanked them down her long, pale legs and tossed them on top of her jeans. Then he rose and sat on the chair, leaning back and pulling on the lever that controlled the incline. It was sturdily built, more than capable of holding both of them. He’d never been more grateful for
