Created In Fire (Art of Love Series) by Donna McDonald

and hugged her close. She breathed in the lingering remainder of his aftershave as her arms came around him. She wanted to curl into the promise of his comfort.
    “I’m not perfect, but I’m also not like the other men in your life,” Michael said, bending and lifting Carrie into his arms. He admitted it was his impatience making him do so. She was just so stubborn, especially about them.
    “Open your heart to me—just a little,” Michael demanded softly.
    Then he started down the hallway with her, carrying her to his room—her room now—hopefully soon, he thought—their room.

Chapter 8
     
    “We never finished our contest,” Michael said, laying Carrie on the bed and climbing in beside her. The rightness of it was like a homecoming.
    “Carrie, I’m so thankful you kept our baby. I’m also thankful you’ve agreed to be my wife. Tonight, I’d like to be thankful for more, but this can’t be about me taking advantage of you. We’ve done that too much already,” he said sincerely.
    Carrie searched Michael’s face for some sign that being intimate with him was going to be just one more mistake in a long line for her, but she didn’t find anything other than hope in his gaze. Wanting him was the secret that lived in her heart, so really what decision was there to make? She was already physically his. She carried his live brand inside her.
    “Michael,” she said hoarsely, trying not to cry. “I don’t know what to do about you.”
    “It’s okay whatever you decide,” he said, smoothing her hair back as he stroked her cheek. “I don’t know either. At this moment, I’m just happy to be lying next to you.”
    Well, she thought, if this was going to happen, if she was going to be with him again, this time should be just a mutual seeking of pleasure, not some soul-stealing event that would have her avoiding him tomorrow.
    Maybe being honest with this man for once would start to redeem her.
    “Michael, I’m very, very, very thankful you didn’t cut your hair,” she said, reaching out a hand to touch his face.
    Then the tears fell because speaking even the smallest truth liberated many other emotions about Michael from the death grip she normally kept on them. No matter how well she tucked away the pain of the past, pregnancy had flooded her with too much estrogen to remain stoic.
    “Ssssh. . .,” Michael said, leaning forward to kiss the corner of her eyes. “Don’t cry, baby. I knew how you felt even when you weren’t admitting it. It just hurt my feelings because being with you was the best sexual experience of my life.”
    “You don’t have to keep flattering me,” Carrie said softly. “You’ve been with a lot of women. I’ve been around enough men to know most collect sexual experiences like baseball cards. They just keep them locked away until another collector comes along and wants to compare.”
    “No other woman has been like you, and that’s the truth,” Michael said flatly, feeling frustrated that he had no way to convince her. He couldn’t deny that he had done his own collecting, but he thought of it now as more like searching. And the search had ended with her.
    Carrie stroked her hand over his now rough jaw. “Regardless of what is or isn’t truth, I can be fair enough to give you back the supportive words you so freely gave me today. So listen up, Larson—no matter how many women you’ve been with or how much you enjoyed them, I accept that at the time you were only living your life the best way you knew how. So this is me saying I’m officially not going to beat you up over that anymore,” she said.
    “Nice to hear, but not nearly good enough, Carrie Addison. I want you to believe me when I say I love you. I’m going to just keep working on our relationship until you do,” Michael said, his ego soothed but not satisfied.
    “Michael, I negotiate with people for a living. This is my best offer to help get us through the next few months. Take it while you can,”