“Michael, Amanda asked me to sing at your wedding.”
A scowl crossed his face when he responded. “Yeah, I know. Regan told me.”
She waited for him to say something more, and after a minute or two realized he wasn’t going to.
Who was he angry with? Her? For telling him about Amanda’s request. Or Amanda? For asking.
She broke the silence. “I told her no.”
He nodded as though she had just given him some serious news he needed to mull over. She felt like shouting at him. Why does she think she’s going to marry you?
Michael’s words were measured when he finally answered. “Sweetheart, I was never going to marry her, and she knew that. We haven’t been together in a long time. I saw her when I was in Boston, which wasn’t all that often. I was convenient for her, and she was convenient for me. That’s all there was to it.”
She couldn’t stop herself from asking. “Am I convenient?”
He laughed, surprising her. “No, you’re not convenient. You’re a pain in the . . .”
She smiled. “Thank you.” For lying, she silently added.
Michael turned the bedroom lights off. With the drapes closed, the room was pitch black. He opened the bathroom door a crack to shed a sliver of light on the floor, then got into bed. Rolling to his side, he quickly pulled her up against him before she went flying to the floor, and anchored her with his arm around her waist.
“Will you be able to sleep like this?” she whispered. “I could move to the chair. It doesn’t look too lumpy.”
“I won’t be able to sleep unless I know you’re close.”
“Do you think I’ll leave during the night?”
“No,” he answered. “I need you close,” he repeated curtly. “Now go to sleep.”
She tried. She really tried to relax and drift off to sleep. Counting sheep, relaxation techniques, replaying boring speeches she’d had to sit through in college . . . counting sheep again. Nothing worked.
She knew what the problem was. Michael, of course. She wanted him, and the longer he held her in his arms, the stronger the craving became. She wasn’t going to feel guilty about it. She was an adult, and she didn’t think there was anything wrong with having sex with a man she cared about. But she would not be the aggressor again. If he wanted her as much as she wanted him, he would have to make the first move. Maybe he was fighting the same battle she was and was just as miserable. That pleasing possibility was snatched away a moment later when his breathing became deep and even. He had already fallen asleep.
Gritting her teeth, she began counting sheep again. One little sheep . . . two little sheep . . .
She reached forty-two sheep and stopped counting long enough to vow that Michael would have to beg her before she let him touch her again. Beg, no matter what, and even then she just might say no. She started counting again, sincerely hoping that by the time she reached two hundred little sheep, she would be ready to fall asleep.
“Isabel?” Michael whispered as though he didn’t want to wake her.
She rolled over in his arms. “Yes?”
“I want you.”
Did he beg? Close enough, she decided. She kissed the side of his neck. “I want you, too.”
She loved the way he kissed her. He tugged on her hair to get her to tilt her head back, and then his mouth covered hers in a scorching kiss. His tongue penetrated and stroked hers, receded, and penetrated again and again in the mating ritual that drove her wild. He held nothing back.
Keeping her tightly against him, he rolled and pinned her beneath him. Each kiss was hotter, wilder. He lifted his head and let out a long raspy breath in an attempt to slow down.
The passion ignited so quickly and became so intense, she didn’t know how he got her clothes off and then his. Their bodies melded together, clinging to each other. The hair on his chest rubbed against her breasts when he moved, sending the most erotic sensations rushing through her body.
He slowly moved down her body, kissing every inch of her. He caressed her breasts, and when his tongue stroked her nipples, she cried out and nearly came off the bed.
She moved restlessly against him, pushing up against his arousal. She wanted to touch him, to drive him crazy, but Michael wouldn’t let her. His mouth covered hers again in a wet, hot kiss, and then he lifted up and held her gaze as the palm of his hand slid down between her thighs. She was ready for him. But that wasn’t enough. He wanted her out of her mind with desire for him.
“Michael, please,” she begged. She thought she would die if he made her wait any longer.