Page 54 of One Hotlanta Night
We got home, and Michael made love to me so tenderly, so deeply. His hands roamed over my body, every part of us touching, taking my eyes captive as he brought us to ecstasy. Each thrust was deep and deliberate, as if he was trying to imprint himself inside me. As if he thought I would escape if he left any part of my skin unmarked by his mouth. His soothing voice murmured delicious words in Spanish against my ear as I came again and again, words I couldn’t understand but nevertheless translated to my soul.
“I don’t care about your past. Only your future. With me.”
I swear that man tried to burrow his way into my soul last night.
The words keep reverberating through my head, and honestly, through my heart. Could it really be that simple? Could all the past guilt, shame, and regret be wiped away with just a few words? If my past doesn’t bother him, then why should I let it keep bothering me?
Is this what grace looks like? A blank slate, a chance to start over?
Whether I deserve it or not. Whether I’m perfect or not.
Michael says I’m perfect for him.
Is he right? And if that’s what he believes, do my doubts even hold water?
I don’t know what time he finally passed out, our arms and legs intertwined and my head on his muscular chest as he softly stroked my hair. My mind kept me awake, reflecting on everything he’d said. But as I snuggle in deeper to the strong arms encircling me, listening to the thumps of his heartbeat, an incredible sense of peace washes over me. No matter what happens, I will forever be grateful to this man for releasing me from the turmoil of my past decisions. I’m choosing to accept the gift of his affection, for however long it lasts.
I might not deserve it, but I’m going to believe that I do.
I’m choosing to live free of regrets. And I’m choosing him. Us.
Inhaling his scent that is the perfect combination of crisp citrus and uniquely him, I sigh contentedly. He makes me feel protected, safe. Who would’ve thought that you could burn with desire and still feel so grounded at the same time?
Instinctively, I press a small kiss to his forearm wrapped around my chest. “Buenos dias, cariño,” he rumbles next to my ear.
I startle for a moment. “I–I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You can wake me up anytime.” Michael’s hand trails from my shoulder down my arm until he reaches my wrist, then entwines our fingers together. “I love your sexy body in my bed.” My shoulders tense and he notices. Every time he starts off with “I love,” it feels like he’s trying to impart something more. Like therealmeaning of those three little words. After last night, those words hold even greater weight.
Part of me is terrified to hear it, but part of me craves it too. I’ve accepted that I’m falling for himhard, but there’s a difference between saying you’re falling for someone versus telling them, “I love you.” There’s no way this can really be love, not in this short span of time, right?
Things just don’t happen like that in real life.
“How did you sleep?” Whether he realizes it or not, he’s changing the subject and I’m grateful.
“I got a little bit of rest,” I tell him truthfully. Michael searches my eyes, brow furrowed as if he’s trying to read my thoughts. “For the little bit of actual sleeping we did,” I tease. His face relaxes at that, his expression turning positively devious as he releases my hand and starts to trail his fingers over my stomach. His thumb runs lazy circles over my belly button. His fingers glide down my abdomen and my breath hitches.
“Forgive me,” he whispers in my ear, nipping and kissing at my earlobe before dragging his tongue and teeth down my neck.
“For–for what?” My voice is barely a whisper as his hand continues to roam further south. Goosebumps cover my skin as my entire body throbs at his words and his touch.
“For not letting you sleep in,” he replies, capturing my mouth in a soul-stealing kiss. His tongue is not apologetic whatsoever as he angles our bodies closer, his hand moving between my thighs. As he works me into ecstasy before claiming my body yet again, I realize I’m not at all upset.
Michael
the following week
“Helloooo, big brother!” my sister sings out so loudly that I have to hold the phone away from my ear. Vivian’s still asleep in bed—ourbed—after yet another night that I couldn’t resist worshiping her body. That woman is damn perfection. At this rate I won’t sleep til I’m dead.
Worth it though.
“Hey, hey there, baby sis,” I grumble good naturedly as I stretch the phone cord out so I can reach the coffee maker. Good thing I sprung for the extra long coil. “How you doing?”
“Oh,I’mjust fine,” she practically purrs, and I curse under my breath. I can already tell where this is headed. “I heard from a little bird that you are bringingsomebodyup for family dinner this weekend.”
I laugh despite myself. “That little bird wouldn't happen to be named Paquita, would it?” My grandmother can’t resist any bit of gossip.
“Never heard of her,” she teases. “So who is this girl? Where did you meet? Is she taking good care of you? Is she someone I’m going to have to beat up?”
