Page 67 of One Hotlanta Night
I smack her ass playfully and then quickly smooth over it with my hand. “I love how my woman loves to eat.” I wiggle my eyebrows at her as she blushes. I’ll take two out of the three special words if I have to. “Afterwards,” I growl in her ear as I settle her into the passenger seat, “I’m gonna have you for dessert.”
Vivian
“Come with me,” Michael says, taking my hand and unlatching the sliding glass door that leads to the small green patch of yard behind his townhome. I stumble a bit, more from sore feet and less from alcohol, now that my belly is full and happy from those delicious burgers and fries.
He catches me around the waist, holding me steady against him. His strength is unwavering, like I can lean on him foranything. “I’ve got you, mi amor,” he murmurs against my cheek with a brush of his lips. He walks me out to the small patio outside, and I spot two water bottles in his other hand.
“What are we doing?”
“I want to see you under the stars,” he replies. Sitting down in the large wooden Adirondack chair, Michael pulls me onto his lap and tucks me into his chest, his heartbeat sure and comforting beneath my ear as he cradles me close. The midnight heat is nothing compared to how his skin lights mine on fire, but instead of it feeling oppressive, I snuggle in closer as he traces lazy circles on my arm.
It’s a stark contrast with how he was ready to take me on the dance floor. I thought for sure he was going to drag me into a corner for some serious ravaging, and I wouldn’t have objected, not at all. That thing he did with the tequila? Top five hottest things that’ve ever happened to me, and I’ve done some kinky shit. But the way he grabbed my mouth and poured the tequila in, then finished me off with a kiss? My lips tingle just remembering it. And the best part was the absolute trust I had in him.
I never go anywhere without keeping one eye looking over my shoulder; it’s the street smarts my mom ingrained in me. But I asked Michael to take care of me tonight and then…I let him. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, ceding control to someone else, trusting that they’re not gonna break me or take advantage. Letting my guard down, letting someone else call the shots was strange, but also a relief. Someone without criticism, without judgement; only concerned for my well-being. I didn’t even think to protest when he decided I’d had enough because it meant I didn’t have to make a choice. It’s… freeing, how he can take charge, and it makes me love him even more.
It’s nuts and I love it. I love him. And I want to tell him, but is he going to think it’s too soon? I know I do. But I also know thatnothing I’ve ever felt before compares to the way I feel about this man.
My heart starts to beat triple time, the words impatient to escape. I want to tell him. I want to tell him what he means to me, that I’ve crashed way past the line of merely falling in love. That I do love him with an intensity and certainty that I’ve never felt before. These feelings I’ve experienced ever since I met Michael are like a fire that burns but doesn’t consume. Instead his love warms me, keeps me safe against the cold. I’m aching to say it, but I’m afraid he'll think it’s the tequila talking. So I hold the words inside me, and bury my head further into his chest as I shiver.
Michael grips my waist more firmly as his other hand continues to gently stroke my hair. “You’re doing it again,“ he says softly.
“What do you mean?”
“Overthinking,” he replies.
How is he so in tune with me? Guess it’s like he says—he pays attention. To everything, it seems. He traces a finger along my jaw and lifts my chin so his eyes find mine. His gaze holds me in a trance, channeling all his desire and affection and I can't—don't want to—look away.
“I…”
His reassuring gaze gives me the courage I so desperately need, and I take a breath and steady myself, ready to lay it all on the line.
“I love you,” I breathe out, my voice barely above a whisper but my eyes nervously watching his, ready for his reaction, whatever that may be.
Michael freezes, his hands stilling as he searches my face. Like he can’t believe what he’s just heard.
“Say it again.”
“I love you, Michael.”
“Mi amor,” Michael rasps as he quickly flips my body to face him, claiming my mouth in an urgent kiss. His tongue plunges in without warning, spearing inside, driving deep, deeper inside, like any separation might kill him. His fevered kiss quickly takes over, our bodies sliding and pressing and grinding against each other, trying to get as close as possible, despite the clothing barrier. But he doesn’t try to take them off. Rather, it’s like he’s trying to imprint himself on me. On my body, my heart, my soul.
The relief I feel at not being rejected is overwhelming. He’s not saying anything, not with words anyway, but his body is telling me everything. It’s so much more intimate than our lust-filled dances at the club. Even though his hands are ravenously running up and down my back, it feels almost reverent. Like he can’t believe he’s touching me. Considering we haven’t been able to keep our hands off each other since we met, this shouldn’t feel different. But it does. Like a mingling of our souls. Desire that surpasses the physical realm. His touch burns against my skin, branding me from the inside out.
He groans, words in Spanish falling too fast for me to catch as his kisses become more fevered, working down my jaw to my neck. My head falls back as sparks of pleasure race through my body. He suddenly grips my neck and forces my gaze to him. “Tell me again, mi amor. I need to hear the words from your lips.”
“I love you, mi amor,” I whisper, expressing my love to him in the words he understands best.
His eyes close at my admission, a look of absolute relief and ecstasy upon his face. We’re both panting, trying to catch our breath, his arms holding me in a tight grip, chest to chest. As he finally opens his eyes, I’m almost undone by the way he looks at me.
“I’ve waited so long for you to tell me that. I was trying to be patient, to give you time.” His mouth ghosts over mine. “To seeif you felt it too. Praying that you would love me back.” He takes my hand, kissing my wrist in that special, intimate way that gives me instant butterflies. Pressing my hand over his heart, he says, “You’ve been the one for me since I first saw you. I can’t explain it. I’ve been waiting for you to open your heart to me. Because you have mine.” He pauses and presses his lips to mine more softly than before, as if cherishing the moment.
Then he presses our foreheads together and looks directly into my eyes, his gaze piercing mine.
“You know I'm going to marry you, right?”
My heart stops and stutters for a beat as I let those words wash over me. But both my mind and heart are in agreement, no hesitation whatsoever, when I answer with the truest emotion I’ve ever felt.
“I do.”
