Page 63 of A Dangerous Kind of Love

I push up onto my knees and move closer, my hips shifting enough to get his attention. Then I slide my arms around his neck.

“I met two girls in this club tonight.”

I roll my hips once against him and pull back before he can react. I slip out of bed, grab my phone, and head to my dresser. I pull out a bra and a pair of underwear, holding them in one hand while the music keeps playing. I lift my phone above my head and sway to the beat as I make my way toward the bathroom, my nightgown brushing against my thighs with every step.

When I glance back, Michael’s staring at me. His eyes are locked on me like he’s already imagining dragging me back to bed and finishing what I started.

I come back out after my shower, my hair still damp against my shoulders. I’ve already got my bra and panties on, but I pull my nightgown back over my head before stepping into the bedroom. Michael isn’t in there anymore.

I move to my dresser and get dressed for work, pulling on a soft cream-colored T-shirt and tucking it into a flowy green skirt that hits right below my knees. The fabric is light and moves when I do. The front of my shirt has a big smiley face in the center with the words Teacher, Teach Love, Teach Peace curved around it in bold black lettering. I look in the mirror. I’ll be outside most of the day since it’s the last day of school, so I flip my head over and twist my damp hair—already starting to curl and frizz—into a messy bun. A few pieces fall loose around my face, but I leave them. I dab on a little blush and swipe on some mascara.

Good enough. I open my bedroom door and get hit in the face with the smell of coffee.

Okay. That’s a good start.

When I step into the living room and kitchen, Michael’s not there, but I hear the guest shower running. I smile and grab a mug, pouring myself a cup and adding creamer. I spot the muffins I bought on Friday and grab a blueberry one, heating it up before sitting down and scrolling through my phone while I eat.

A few minutes later, the water shuts off, and Michael walks out, hair still wet, black slacks on, and white button-up open at the top. He looks damn good.

“Hi,” I say as he walks to the counter and grabs a mug.

He fills it, turns, and leans back against the edge.

“Morning, Doll.”

He pushes off the counter and walks toward the table. He sets his mug down and steps behind my chair. I look up at him, and his hand comes up, light around my throat as he tips my head back. He bends down and kisses me.

God. If this is what I get to wake up to—his hot ass in my bed and in my kitchen kissing me like this—he might as well ask me to marry him.

“You work at the bar tonight?” he asks as he sits across from me.

“Yeah. Five to close.”

“When’s close?”

“One.”

His hand flexes around his mug, his eyes not leaving mine.

“I won’t be there tonight. I have to go up to Santa Barbara for a business dinner. I’ll be staying overnight.”

Oh. So I’m sleeping alone.

“I think I can handle one night without you,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him.

“That’s not the issue.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t want you leaving that bar alone.”

I lean back. “I think I can manage—“

“No,” He cuts me off, calm. “Luca will pick you up and bring you back home.”

“Michael—“

“Katie.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “I wasn’t asking.”