Page 40 of One Hotlanta Night
“More. Deeper,” I whisper, closing my eyes and letting his magic fingers soothe me as much as his presence and the heat of his body. He groans and shifts slightly behind me. Is he as affected by this as I am?
“Whatever you need, mi amor,” he says, a soft kiss brushing my neck sending a thrill down my nerve endings. It’s like thecherry on top of his amazing fingers. Maybe we don’t need dinner after all. Damn, he’s good at this.
I let my head fall forward as he continues his broad strokes along my neck, soothing my body like my massage therapist does when finishing the session. Michael wraps his arms around me, cradling me against his chest, cocooning me in his warmth. We cuddle for a minute, fitting perfectly together, and I’ve never felt so peaceful. So safe, so relaxed, so cared for.
“Careful there, I might have to keep you around as a full-time masseuse,” I say as he rests his head lightly on the same shoulder he took from a seven down to a two on the pain scale.
“You can count on it,” he says, brushing his mouth along the shell of my ear and I shiver. He sneaks in a quick kiss along my jaw and I go from cozy and content to intensely aware of everywhere our bodies are touching in zero-point-five seconds. His grip on me tightens and the strong bulge pressed up on my back tells me he feels it too. But we’re not just in any restaurant, we’re in Claire’s restaurant and my workplace, so I need to tone this down a bit. No need to give my co-workers any more fodder.
“How did you know where to touch me?” His rumbly laugh reminds me of exactly how much our conversations have been laced with innuendo, and I grimace as my head falls back and I look up at the ceiling, embarrassed. Normally I’m down for every lewd euphemism there is, but this is different.He’sdifferent. I want his body, sure. Well, okay, most definitely. But I want him to respect and admire me as much as I do him. And if I keep making comments like I’ve been living in a frat house (okay, that one was true too, but only for a summer), I don’t think he’ll view me in that same light.
Laughing, he runs his hands up and down my arms and tucks me closer into him. “I’ve been giving massages to my mom for years. She showed me where all her trigger points are. Sometimes it’s the only thing that helps, but she prefers a lighterhand.” He grips my chin and turns me so his lips just barely ghost over mine. “Somehow I think you can handle a whole lot more.”
His breath feathers over my mouth, his eyes locked onto my lips. Then he drags his gaze back up to mine, holding me with a warm intensity as I melt into his embrace. Instead of the kiss I’m anticipating, he pulls back, continuing to rub my arms gently and soothing me with his presence. I miss the promise of his lips on mine, but sitting here in comfortable silence feels just as nice. My body is completely relaxed, a pleasant hum running through me. This sensation of being safe and content is unfamiliar and still a little scary. But everything feels right with this man. Returning Michael’s call was the best choice I’ve ever made.
“How about this?” his low voice breaks the reverie and I turn to look into his delicious espresso eyes. “Why don’t we skip Dave & Buster’s, and do something a little more low-key tonight? Wanna see a movie instead?” I pause before responding. Actually, that sounds amazing with the amount of pain I’ve been in all day. But I don’t want him to think I’m lame, either.
Before I can say anything, he pulls me even closer to his chest and nuzzles my neck. “I don’t know what fibro is usually like for you, mi amor. But when it’s a bad day for my mom, she can’t handle a whole lot of activity. And I don’t want to make your pain any worse.” Pressing a kiss to my cheek, he continues, “We can save skeeball and air hockey for our tenth date.”
Laughing, I look back at him. “That’s awfully specific. Why not our next date? And who says we’ll make it to a tenth?” I elbow him lightly, so he knows I’m just playing. “You might be sick of me by then.” I grin and his eyes flash at me.
“Never gonna happen.” His fiery eyes burn at the challenge. “You’re coming home with me for our second date—so I can cook for you,” he clarifies as my eyes widen. “And also, we are definitely making it to a tenth date. Because I go after what Iwant.” He lifts my hand and kisses my wrist. The relaxed feelings begin to give way to a rapidly building heat racing through my body. “And what I want is you.” He laces our fingers together. My breathing becomes shallow at his words, and he must notice, because the next thing he says is, “So, movie?”
“Movie.” I nod, and his hand squeezes mine, sealing the deal.
“Do you want to stay here for dinner or should we skip? The new Mall of Georgia is supposed to have comfy seats.”
“I can do either. Raelynn wouldn’t eat the nuggets I made her. I tried to do the I-have-a-nugget-now-you-have-a-nugget trick, but as you can guess, it didn’t quite work,” I admit. “That mac and cheese was my last resort.”
“Mac and cheese is always a big seller,” he agrees.
“But I can’t promise we won’t be harassed by my co-workers if we stay. They’re wonderful people, but believe me, Claire won’t be able to hold them off all night.” I sigh. “They mean well…”
“As much as I’d love to get to know everyone here, and maybe hear some funny stories,” he winks at me, “I’d rather have you all to myself. Let’s go see what’s playing, maybe get some snacks to tide us over. And we can figure out food after.”
“The only places that’ll be open are Taco Bell and Waffle House.”
“I’m down for some Bert’s chili over hashbrowns if you are.” He grins.
“Smothered and covered, baby.” I smile right back. His eyes darken and I only have a second to wonder if it was the “baby” that prompted it before his lips capture mine in a fierce kiss, all restraint gone. I swear all the blood rushes from my head to below my belly as he crushes our bodies together. Pulling away on a ragged exhale, he searches my eyes before pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “C’mon, mi amor, let’s go find a movie before I end up taking you home right now.”
Michael
“So, what’s the deal with this baby right here?” My lady skims her hand lightly over the leather center console, and I can’t help wishing it was me she was stroking instead. Can’t say I blame her though. The gorgeous green Mustang was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen—until Vivian, that is.
“My one indulgence. I got this right after my promotion to celebrate. And because I needed a more reliable set of wheels for these Atlanta roads.” She giggles; Georgia’s known for its potholes. “A friend’s dad hooked me up at his dealership. She is indeed my baby… or at least, she was. I think I've found another one now.” I reach over and brush my knuckles across her cheek, not wanting her to mistake my meaning, and she closes her eyes at the contact. Her chest rises and falls a little more rapidly, and I’m about to move in for a kiss. But her eyes open swiftly and she tenses, almost steeling herself.
After watchingTomb Raiderand stuffing ourselves full of buttery popcorn and junk food, I thought Vivian had finally relaxed enough that we could enjoy these last moments of our date. I had plans to make love to her mouth, to whisper promises of what I was going to do to her once we were in a comfortable space, somewhere I could lay her down and worship her body. But something keeps holding her back, and I need to find out what it is. So I can eradicate any doubts from her mind.
Whatever she’s afraid of, I’ll take care of it. Whatever problems she has, we’ll face them together. She’s mine, and I’ll spend my whole life making sure she knows how much she’s loved and cherished.
“What is it, mi amor?” I slide my hand down to hers, lacing our fingers together and squeezing, not wanting to give up a single second of skin-to-skin contact.
She blows out a breath. “Michael…” She falters, then swallows and turns in her seat to face me directly. “Are you really sure you want to do this? With me, I mean.”
I’m still, my mind trying to process what she’s asking.Whyshe’s asking, when I’ve been doing everything in my power to express exactly how I feel. What she means to me. How she’s it for me,the one. Have I not made myself clear? I ask her just as much.
“No, no. You’ve beenveryclear,” she says, looking away as she picks at invisible lint on her shorts. “It’s just…”
