him. Then, she shivered and his scars started to itch, kind of like a wound does when it begins to heal.
Could he let her go? Back to her soon-to-be-ex, back to her life without him? He couldn’t answer that, but what he could answer was, not tonight. He couldn’t let her walk out that door tonight without knowing what it felt like to be buried inside her body. Somehow, in the back of his mind, he knew it would feel like coming home, like a safe place.
Bringing his face back to look deep into the melted chocolate and brandy orbs, he slowly lowered his lips to hers, watching every reaction on her face as he did so. Michael wanted to commit to memory her response to him, to them. He needed to see what she felt, witness the emotions pass through her.
When his lips met hers, he didn’t kiss like he wanted to. Instead, he was compelled to sing. It was a performance just for her. In all the years since he’d learned to sing and play, he never did the private, as in one on one, performance requests. Sure, he had belted out a line here or there while sitting at the bar next to his potential companion for the night, but never up close and personal. Never like this.
Whitesnake’s “Don’t Turn Away” was what came out. Low and deeply intimate, he feasted on every nuance of her face. When he got to the chorus, he saw the shock and indecision cross it. God, she was fucking hot. That insecurity ripping at his heart was also to credit for some of the wonder, for lack of a better description, that was visible there. Michael could only assume it was because she was stunned that a man wanted her as bad as he did.
That asshole, that fucking asshole of a boyfriend took this stunning woman and tried to break her, tame her. But a woman like her didn’t need to be tamed, she needed to be set free—free of societal restraints, free of the good southern girl handbook, and free to be the fucking wildcat he knew she was.
When he got to the line about “ asking her a question,” the wonder in her eyes turned to…terror? What the Hell? Tori leapt off the bed like her ass was on fire and started pacing like a fucking lion at the zoo before she finally spoke.
“Oh, my God, Michael, we have to stop. I can’t stay with you.” The walls going back up around his heart were practically audible, at least to him. He couldn’t face her rejection, not now, Hell, maybe not ever, but damn sure not now. His eyes must’ve conveyed something because she stopped pacing and stammered.
“God, Michael, it’s not that I don’t want to, because holy shit, I’ve never wanted anything as much in my life as to get back in that bed. To stay with you tonight would be amazing. I know it would be. I would never forget it, forget you, but the problem is, you would never forget me either, and…”
“What the…” he interrupted her and sat up abruptly. A little too quickly for the condition he was in, the room went all carnival funhouse for a minute. Tori dropped down beside him and grabbed his cheeks.
“Michael, what is it, are you okay?” Having regained his senses, at least in part, he removed her hands to her lap, but left his good one and not so good one on top of hers.
“I’m fine, a little dizzy is all. I sat up too fast.” He had to grit the words out to keep the ship steady. “What the fuck do you mean, you’d remember and so would I. I gotta tell you, babe, you’re confusing the fuck out of me. Isn’t that what a woman wants, to be remembered? Do you feel anything between us, Tori? Anything at all besides a deep burning desire, or Hell, even that. I’d settle for that, you know.”
Michael couldn’t explain why he needed to push her for answers, he just did. The attempted humor at the end bombed, but he was confused, he’d never been in this position before—one where pleasing a woman, more than just sexually, was a priority, a requirement for living, breathing. Even with Tonya, their relationship had always been emotionally
Could he let her go? Back to her soon-to-be-ex, back to her life without him? He couldn’t answer that, but what he could answer was, not tonight. He couldn’t let her walk out that door tonight without knowing what it felt like to be buried inside her body. Somehow, in the back of his mind, he knew it would feel like coming home, like a safe place.
Bringing his face back to look deep into the melted chocolate and brandy orbs, he slowly lowered his lips to hers, watching every reaction on her face as he did so. Michael wanted to commit to memory her response to him, to them. He needed to see what she felt, witness the emotions pass through her.
When his lips met hers, he didn’t kiss like he wanted to. Instead, he was compelled to sing. It was a performance just for her. In all the years since he’d learned to sing and play, he never did the private, as in one on one, performance requests. Sure, he had belted out a line here or there while sitting at the bar next to his potential companion for the night, but never up close and personal. Never like this.
Whitesnake’s “Don’t Turn Away” was what came out. Low and deeply intimate, he feasted on every nuance of her face. When he got to the chorus, he saw the shock and indecision cross it. God, she was fucking hot. That insecurity ripping at his heart was also to credit for some of the wonder, for lack of a better description, that was visible there. Michael could only assume it was because she was stunned that a man wanted her as bad as he did.
That asshole, that fucking asshole of a boyfriend took this stunning woman and tried to break her, tame her. But a woman like her didn’t need to be tamed, she needed to be set free—free of societal restraints, free of the good southern girl handbook, and free to be the fucking wildcat he knew she was.
When he got to the line about “ asking her a question,” the wonder in her eyes turned to…terror? What the Hell? Tori leapt off the bed like her ass was on fire and started pacing like a fucking lion at the zoo before she finally spoke.
“Oh, my God, Michael, we have to stop. I can’t stay with you.” The walls going back up around his heart were practically audible, at least to him. He couldn’t face her rejection, not now, Hell, maybe not ever, but damn sure not now. His eyes must’ve conveyed something because she stopped pacing and stammered.
“God, Michael, it’s not that I don’t want to, because holy shit, I’ve never wanted anything as much in my life as to get back in that bed. To stay with you tonight would be amazing. I know it would be. I would never forget it, forget you, but the problem is, you would never forget me either, and…”
“What the…” he interrupted her and sat up abruptly. A little too quickly for the condition he was in, the room went all carnival funhouse for a minute. Tori dropped down beside him and grabbed his cheeks.
“Michael, what is it, are you okay?” Having regained his senses, at least in part, he removed her hands to her lap, but left his good one and not so good one on top of hers.
“I’m fine, a little dizzy is all. I sat up too fast.” He had to grit the words out to keep the ship steady. “What the fuck do you mean, you’d remember and so would I. I gotta tell you, babe, you’re confusing the fuck out of me. Isn’t that what a woman wants, to be remembered? Do you feel anything between us, Tori? Anything at all besides a deep burning desire, or Hell, even that. I’d settle for that, you know.”
Michael couldn’t explain why he needed to push her for answers, he just did. The attempted humor at the end bombed, but he was confused, he’d never been in this position before—one where pleasing a woman, more than just sexually, was a priority, a requirement for living, breathing. Even with Tonya, their relationship had always been emotionally
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