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Hers. Hers. Always hers.
She swallowed him further, eliciting another low moan, his fingers tangling in her hair. His head was tipped back, his mouth open, his eyes on her.
She loved the taste of him. The feel of him in her mouth. The way she could drive him wild with a twist of her tongue. Loved that his hips were hitching, finding a rhythm, his fingers tight against her scalp, his groans louder, his lips calling out her name.
“Stop,” he rasped. “I’m not coming in your mouth.”
“Yes you are.” She kept her eyes on his, sliding her lips on him once more. Michael let out a low oath as she slid her tongue against him, then called out her name again. It was soft and sweet, like a prayer, as he spilled inside of her and she held him tight, taking everything he had to give.
And when he was done, she climbed back over him, and he looked up at her, his eyes hazy.
“Remind me to piss you off more often.” He cupped her cheek, pressing his lips against hers. It was the sweetest kiss. The kind she wanted to remember forever.
“Do it again and I’ll really show you how angry I can be.”
“It won’t happen again,” he told her. “I’ll make sure of that.”
“Good.” She dropped her head to his shoulder, loving the way he was touching her. It wasn’t sexual now. It felt more like wonder. As though he was trying to memorize every part of her. And then a yawn overtook her and he chuckled.
“Let’s go to bed,” he said. “I owe you an orgasm.”
“It can wait.” She nestled against his chest.
“No, it can’t.” He stood, holding her against him, as he zipped up his pants. Then he lifted her, and she curled her legs around his waist. The smile was still playing on his lips, and she loved it.
She loved him.
Her chest contracted at the thought. At the truth of it.
She was in love with this man and she had no idea what to do with that.
Holding her close, he carried her across the living space to the bedroom on the right. Like the living area, it had a floor to ceiling glass wall overlooking the city. He pressed a button, and a blind came down with a whirr, and he placed her on the bed.
“You’re so beautiful.”
“You’re biased,” she told him.
He laughed. “Yeah, but it’s still the truth.” He laid beside her, cupped her face. “Now it’s my turn to make you mine.”
ChapterSeventeen
They’d sleptpast breakfast and almost into lunch. Michael had arranged for some food to be sent up, but right now they were both still in their pajamas, laying on the bed and staring out at the city.
“We really should get out and visit some places,” Grace murmured, her head on his chest, where it had been most of the night. Or at least the times she wasn’t under him, or over him.
Reclaiming him the way he was reclaiming her. He smiled and kissed the top of her head.
“We have the rest of today and tomorrow.”
She stretched her arms out. “Yes, and I love it. Maybe we should move here and pretend Hartson’s Creek doesn’t exist.”
“You’d hate that. I see how much you love your family,” he told her, shaking his head.
She nodded. “I would. And so would you. You’re here for your mom, after all.”
He stroked her shoulder, her arm, then curled his fingers into hers. “You okay after last night?” he asked. All those emotions. The anger, the sadness, the desire. It made him feel like he was fifteen again.
And yet… somehow it felt right.
