“So,” she said, voice trembling with suppressed laughter. “You played footsie with Sandra.”
I groaned. “We’re not talking about that.”
“You were so confident about it too.” She tilted her head back to look at me, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Just reached right out with your foot, so sure of yourself?—”
I kissed her—hard and sudden—mostly to shut her up, partly because she was laughing and it was undoing me. To my restraint.
She made a surprised sound against my mouth but recovered quickly, kissing me back with enthusiasm. When we broke apart, she was breathless, lips slightly swollen.
“That’s cheating,” she breathed, but her voice was softer now. Huskier.
“Is it working?”
“Maybe.” She reached up and touched my face, her palm warm against my jaw. Her thumb traced my bottom lip. “But I’m still going to tease you about it later.”
I pulled her closer, my hand sliding up her back. I could feel her heartbeat quickening, matching the rhythm of my own.
I kissed her again. Slower this time. Taking my time with it. Trying to pour everything I couldn’t say into the press of my mouth against hers. My hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head back to deepen the kiss.
“Michael,” she breathed, and the way she said my name—breathless and wanting—made something primal wake up in my chest.
I pulled back just enough to look at her. Her eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. Her cheeks were flushed. Her lips were parted, swollen from my kisses.
Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.
Before she could react, I scooped her into my arms—one arm under her knees, the other around her back—lifting her clean off the couch.
She let out a surprised squeak, hands immediately flying to wrap around my neck. “Michael! What are you?—”
“Bedroom,” I said simply, already moving.
“But Failure—” She glanced back at the ridiculous purple elephant still sitting on the couch.
“He’s staying.”
“But he’s family?—”
“So am I. And right now, I’m prioritizing myself.” I looked down at her, saw the laughter and want warring in her eyes. “Any objections?”
She bit her lip—and that alone made me walk faster. “No objections.”
CHAPTER 12
Claudette
Michael carriedme to his bedroom, and I could barely think straight.
He set me down on the bed, his hands careful on my waist. Then his mouth found mine—soft, thorough, devastating.
His hands moved to the hem of my shirt. I lifted my arms, letting him pull it off. The cool air hit my skin before his palms were there, warm and solid, tracing up my sides. Slowly. Like he was learning me.
“You’re sure?” he asked, eyes dark and sharp with need.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
He pulled back just enough to look at me. His eyes were deep like the ocean at midnight, intense. Something vulnerable flickered across his face—gone as quickly as it appeared.
“I love you.” He whispered.
