B00Z637D2Y (R) (16 page)

“Yes.”

Pleased she hadn’t pushed him away, he slid his fingers under the panties and circled her in just the right spot, then cut off her gasp with a kiss.

Wet, warm, and responsive, Mia opened her legs and her mouth to him, giving as she took, with raw honesty, coaxing him right up to the edge of his control. He wanted to rip his clothes off and bury himself deep inside her while she made these same throaty moans, but this wasn’t about him. Never had he wanted to please a woman as much as he did Mia. He thought of her friends, especially that prick Jason. She deserved better. She should be honored and pampered, which is exactly what he planned to do.

He pushed her back onto the bed and stretched out next to her, slipping a finger deep inside her slick warmth, then pulled away from the kiss to watch the reaction on her expressive face as a second finger joined the first. She made a sound in the back of her throat, and he felt like he had the first time he’d touched a woman all those years ago: amazed, enthralled, and completely alive. Nothing routine or planned, his actions and her reactions were spontaneous and real. Heart racing, he felt dizzy, like he’d had one drink too many, but at the same time, his thoughts and desires were crystal clear. The only thing in his life recently that had brought him intense pleasure was closing a large deal, and as he watched her respond to his touch with unguarded heat, he realized that closing a deal didn’t even come close.

To this. To her.

To this moment.

He increased the tempo with his fingers and sat up so he could watch as she arched into his touch. Eyes shut, she rolled her head from side to side, completely lost in pleasure as he continued to work his fingers in and out. He wanted more, but not for himself—for her. He couldn’t wait any longer to taste her. Shifting slightly, he leaned over and stroked her with his tongue, and she moaned, so he did it again, this time circling her hardened nub with his tongue until she cried out. She was close, very close, and he wanted nothing more than to feel her shatter apart around his fingers, and then again around his cock.

“Michael,” she whispered, and he increased his rhythm.

“Michael,” she said again. This time, desperation tinged her voice.

He placed his mouth over her, his tongue and fingers still working, as her body tensed like a coil being wound. He almost came himself when she began to spasm around his fingers, breath coming in raspy gasps until she cried out, “Yes!”

She was perfect. Slick and heated, her body still trembling with aftershocks. And he was equally aroused. “I need you, Mia. Need to be inside you now.”

Her eyes flew open, and a crease furrowed her brow. “Wait.” She’d said it so quietly, he almost wasn’t sure she’d said it at all. Then her body stilled. No more arching to meet his touch. No more soft sounds.

“Mia.” Her name meant “mine” and it was all he could come up with at the moment.
Mine.
And he hers, if she’d let him be.

“Wait. I’m sorry. I…”

But she wouldn’t let him. His chest constricted painfully as he realized she was going to push him away, even though she didn’t really want to.

“I should’ve had better self control,” she said, body still. “I’m so sorry.”

She’d built her own cage of self-denial and wouldn’t allow herself to open the door to which she had the only key: confidence and trust in herself.

He couldn’t bring himself to remove his fingers from her body as he put his forehead to hers, both of them still breathing hard. “Why?”

A small shudder shot through her—residual effects, or maybe her body reacting to his continued presence and begging him to continue.

“French fries,” she said.

“I’m not bad for you, Mia.”

“You are. You will be.”

“No. I’m not the problem.” He rolled his thumb over the front of her and slid his fingers out, then in again. She tightened around him and her back arched, so he did it again. “Does that feel good?”

“You know it does.”

“Let me make love to you, Mia.”

“Wait.”

He stilled and met her eyes. Her pupils had pushed the irises out to a thin cinnamon band around the edge. She wanted him, it was obvious, and still denied herself. “Wait for what? For me to tell you I won’t hurt you; or even better, that I’m your friend? I could say all kinds of things, Mia, but you wouldn’t believe me because you’re programmed to self-destruct.”

She took a shuddering breath as he slipped his fingers out and pulled her dress back in place. “I want you. I’ve never disguised that fact. I’m not the rose petals and romance kind of man you dream about, but I’m not bad for you, either.”

She sat up and ran her fingers through her hair, and he rolled onto his back and put his hands behind his head, staring up at the apex of the triangular whitewashed ceiling while waiting for his erection to recede.

“I’m not programmed to self-destruct. Just the opposite.”

“Really? Why do all your friends act like you are one step short of hopeless?”

She crossed her arms over her ribs. “I am, sometimes.”

“We
all
are. You broadcast it for some reason and I think I know what the reason is.”

“Well, of course you do because you are so perfect and put together. Organized, successful, powerful, and all that crap. You are so in control of your emotions—or lack thereof—it’s maddening.”

He certainly didn’t feel in control of his emotions. It was taking everything in him to maintain his calm. “You’re deflecting.”

She stood and straightened her dress as she made a frustrated growling sound. “I’ll never win in a debate with you. I don’t stand a chance. Look at you! Even your clothes don’t wrinkle.”

Clancy raised his head when Michael sat up. “Deflecting again, and keep your voice down.” He pointed to the floor indicating the couple below.

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want my ex to know we weren’t up here banging like bunnies.”

He knew she was irritated, but the banging bunnies thing was too cute to not smile. To his delight, she smiled back. She never ceased to surprise him.

A glance at his watch while he washed his hands confirmed they were due downstairs. “You need to change.”

“Won’t what I’m wearing work?”

“No. They’ve all seen that already. For shopping and a pub, you should wear the jeans and leather jacket.”

“Oh, so you’re dressing me now, Michael Control-Freak Anderson?”

“I’d like to
un
dress you, Hermia Lysander Argarapolis, and then ‘bang like bunnies,’ but that would involve your admission to liking french fries as a steady diet.”

“I love french fries. I just have great will power and self-preservation instincts.”

He arched an eyebrow. Then directed a pointed look at the rumpled sheets where he’d just brought her to climax.

She cleared her throat and glanced at the bed. “Most of the time.”

He kissed her forehead—something out of character that felt completely normal with her. “I’m nothing if not tenacious.” Then he grabbed her suitcase from the shower and set it on the bed. “Jeans and jacket.”

She popped the suitcase latch and unzipped it. “Yes, sir.”

Setting his suitcase on the bed next to hers, he winked when she shot him a sideways glance to check out his reaction. “I like that a lot better than ‘wait’.”

“Speaking of which, would you mind waiting outside while I change? The bathroom is too small.”

It certainly was. In order to close the door, she’d have to step into the shower to give it enough room to swing closed. “I do mind. This will have to do.” He turned his back, careful to not hit his head again. “If someone saw me waiting outside, it would ruin the grand illusion we’ve so carefully crafted.”

Closing his eyes, he imagined her actions as he listened to the sounds of fabric slipping over her body and zippers sliding opened and closed. Sweet torture, but torture nonetheless.

“Ready,” she said finally.

As he opened the door for her, she grabbed her scarf from the bed and wound it around her neck with a flourish.

She looked amazing in the jeans and tight tank top with the fitted leather jacket. That denim over her well-toned ass might even prove adequate compensation for tolerating the horrible yellow and green scarf all afternoon.

Chapter Thirteen

“Hope you two had a good …rest,” Sue said before breaking out into a giggle on the porch swing. Mark, sitting next to her was clearly holding back a laugh.

Well, this is awkward.
Mia shot a look at Jason, seated in a wicker chair, who immediately found his feet interesting. Obviously, he’d spilled the beans about their bedroom shenanigans. Maybe bouncing on the bed to make it squeak had been overboard.

“We did, thank you,” Michael said, wrapping his arms around her from behind, then nuzzling her hair as if they’d just been making love and she hadn’t rejected him…again.

Which begged the question, why did she keep rejecting him? He was perfect. Maybe that was it: he was
too
perfect—well, except for the overly controlled bit. This puzzled her, too. For someone who reined in his emotions, needed absolute order, and left nothing to chance, he didn’t seem to mind her flakiness. It had driven Jason nuts. Maybe it did bother him and he was just overlooking it in order to get laid. No. He could and had—as evidenced by the photos online and her time as his neighbor—gotten that from women much better suited and harder to get than she.

He splayed his hands across her abdomen and pulled her against him—nothing anyone else would think twice about, but she certainly did when the bulge in his pants nudged her backside and all that heat from earlier resurfaced, kicking up her heart rate and stinging her cheeks with a blush she hoped no one saw.

“So, you and I need to go pick up our dresses, Mia,” Sue said. “I have a seamstress appointment for us at noon. If something is screwed up, she can fix it before the wedding tomorrow. I also want to hit a really cute shop I saw yesterday that sells jewelry. Kelli, I’d love for you to join us, or you can go to the craft brewery with the guys.”

“Come with us, Kel,” Jason said. Mia knew him well enough to hear the tension in his voice. Trouble in paradise, maybe?

Kelli rose from her chair on the far end of the porch. “Nah. I’m going to go hang with the girls. Beer’s not my thing.” From her arms crossed over her chest to her refusal to meet him eye to eye, it looked like Jason wasn’t her thing either. She brushed some strands of bright red hair from her face and gave Mia a slight smile, which made her instantly warm to the woman she’d hated for months.

“Okay. We’ll see you guys at one or so.” Sue took Mia’s hand and led her down the stairs of the porch with Kelli close behind. “I totally need the scoop on your fiancé,” she whispered when they hit the sidewalk.

Oh, great.
It was the divide and conquer tactic
.

Glancing over her shoulder, she locked eyes with Michael, still in the same spot on the porch, sporting a grin and an obvious erection, and her heart kicked up a notch. He wanted her. Scattered, impulsive Mia had drawn the attention of a giant. She just needed to be sure she didn’t go down with the whole beanstalk. She was in way over her head—and something in her loved it.

…

Michael turned the menu over and scanned the selections on the back. He really wasn’t in the mood for this, but short of being rude or giving up the ruse, he didn’t have a choice. Being split up from Mia was not something he’d anticipated and he didn’t like it. He found himself wanting to spend every moment with her, a completely new experience for him. Usually, he couldn’t get rid of people fast enough…like these two guys. But there he was, pining for a woman. Ridiculous.

“Welcome to Hair of the Dog.” The bartender was a man about his age wearing wire-rimmed glasses and a T-shirt with a dog sporting a keg around its neck. “As you can see from the menu, we only carry our own hand-crafted beers and ales made primarily from locally grown ingredients. Do you have any questions?”

He had questions. Plenty of them, but nothing to do with beer.

“I do,” Jason said before launching into a litany of questions regarding locally grown hops.

What the actual fuck am I doing here?

He was making good on a promise.

No.
It had nothing to do with a promise. He could have found a way around it and still put this Jason jackass in his place.

He was there because of her. Because he wanted her.

For keeps.

Oh, shit.

He’d watched Will go stupid over a woman and now he was doing it. Love was the career killer. The enemy. He’d vowed to never get close to a woman, yet there he was…completely and totally fucked.

“And for you?” the bartender interrupted.

Mia. I’ll have Mia, please.

Without looking, he put his forefinger on the page.

“Ah. Excellent choice. Lucky Dog Stout. We use seven different malts including wheat malted right here, in…”

Lucky Dog.
He shook his head and smiled as the guy kept talking. If it hadn’t been for the damned dog, he would have never met Mia.

“…with a roasted coffee overtone and a smooth finish…”

Smooth. “Your words are as smooth as your public image, Michael David Anderson. A girl could fall hard for you if she weren’t careful.”

Why so careful? What was she scared of?

“So, do you want to taste it first?”

“No.” He’d tasted Mia. He wanted her. And knew what it would take to get her. “You serve food, right?”

…

By the time they got to the pub, Mia was exhausted and starving. Her bridesmaid dress had fit fine, but Sue and Kelli insisted the neckline be adjusted. And to her amusement, they commented on the flashy black lace undergarments she’d changed into when she’d put on the jeans back at the room. She smiled at the thought of Michael picking them out. Had he touched them? He had certainly touched her. A tremor bolted through her body and between her legs as she remembered his skilled hands and mouth less than an hour past. It felt like forever ago.