Katie
“Did you have fun?” Michael asks. He’s holding my heels in one hand while the other rests on the small of my back.
The warmth of his palm sinks through the thin fabric of my dress as he guides me inside. This man is physically incapable of keeping his hands off me whenever I’m close to him.
“I told you I did.”
I smile up at him. His tie is loosened from the drive home, and the top buttons of his shirt are undone, exposing the tattoos on his neck. He looks so damn handsome.
“You want me to take you upstairs and ravish you?”
A blush creeps up my neck, but I nod.
“Good,” he says, and then he’s lifting me off the ground with one arm hooked under my thighs. The movement is so effortless and smooth I barely have time to react before I’m wrapped around him.
My arms slide around his shoulders while a startled laugh escapes me. The man carries me around with ridiculous ease, and the worst part is how much I enjoy it.
“Is this your favorite position to have me in?” I laugh, my fingers tracing over the back of his neck.
Michael’s hand flexes under my thighs as he looks at me.
“No, Doll. I’m going to put you in that position upstairs,” he says.
Oh, fuck me.
He keeps climbing the stairs while I hide my burning face against his shoulder. His chest shakes with quiet laughter beneath my arms.
“Cute,” he murmurs. “Now you’re shy?”
I glare at him. This man enjoys flustering me far too much for his own good.
“I’m not shy. You just say reckless ass shit with zero warning.”
His grip tightens under my thighs as he carries me down the hallway. “And you get wet every time I say it.”
I choke on absolutely nothing. “Michael!”
He throws his head back and laughs, the sound echoing through the hallway. His laugh is unfairly attractive.
“You should see how flustered you are,” he says.
“Shut the fuck up.”
“No.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
He says it with complete confidence. The possibility of me hating him clearly does not exist anywhere in Michael’s mind.
He carries me the rest of the way down the hallway before pushing open the bedroom door.
Then, without warning, he tosses me onto the bed.
A surprised squeak escapes me, which only makes his grin widen.
“You’re an asshole,” I mutter, trying to glare at him while my pulse pounds.
He starts undoing the rest of the buttons on his shirt. My eyes drop to his hands, following the slow movements of his fingers without permission from my brain whatsoever.
“Roll over,” he says.
Instead of answering right away, I stay exactly where I am, still facing him with my pulse pounding hard enough to make me dizzy. My fingers tighten in the comforter while my eyes flick down as his hands move to his belt.
“What?” I stammer.
“I said roll over.”
I hesitate for half a second longer.
Michael laughs under his breath. “That mouth gets real quiet when I start giving orders.”
“Oh, fuck you.”
“I don’t think so. I plan on fucking you,” he says easily. “Now, roll over.”
I turn over, finally obeying him. Michael’s hand settles on the back of my thigh a second later.
“Good girl,” he murmurs.
Why does that do something to me every time?
His hand moves up my dress until it settles at the zipper.
His fingers brush my spine lightly before he slowly pulls it down.
Goosebumps spread instantly across my skin while cool air brushes over my back.
I twist slightly to look back at him, but Michael’s hand settles firmly against my lower back.
“Uh-uh,” he says. “Face forward, Katie.”
My pulse pounds harder. I bite my lip hard enough to stop myself from making a sound. Behind me, I hear the soft thud of his belt hitting the floor.
Then his hands move over my thighs, pushing my dress higher before he leans in close enough for me to feel his breath against my shoulder. The slow way he takes his time with me feels almost worse. Every second stretches the tension tighter until I can barely think straight.
“Lift up for me.”
I do, and he smoothly pulls the dress the rest of the way off my body. The mattress shifts behind me as Michael moves closer. One hand smooths over my back before he reaches for the clasp of my bra, undoing it in one quick movement.
“Arms,” he commands.
I pull them free from the straps while he tosses the it aside. Then his fingers trail down my stomach before hooking into the waistband of my underwear.
“Fuck,” I breathe out.
His chest rumbles with amusement behind me. Then he spreads my legs wider without saying a word. I grip the comforter tighter beneath me. His hand drags up the inside of my thigh before settling firmly on my hip.
“Look at you,” he murmurs. “So fucking pretty when you listen.”
That should piss me off. Instead, it just makes me wet. I feel him move in closer between my thighs, and my breath hitches. His cock brushes against my entrance.
Oh, God.
He pushes in slowly, and the noise I make is downright embarrassing. The worst part is Michael clearly enjoys it.
“That’s my fucking girl,” he says, voice rough with approval as he thrusts. “Makes me want to spoil the fuck out of you.”
Yes, spoil me until I can’t walk.
Afterwards, we’re in the bathroom brushing our teeth when he smirks at me. Suspicion fills my body because Michael only gets that expression when he’s about to say something that embarrasses the hell out of me.
“What the fuck are you smiling about?”
He spits into the sink before rinsing his toothbrush. “Nothing. Just seems like you really enjoyed yourself in there.”
He gestures toward the bedroom with his chin.
“Oh, shut the fuck up.”
His grin only widens. “You were making noises I’ve never heard before in my life.”
I choke on toothpaste, and he winks at me in the mirror before walking back into the bedroom.
“Smug asshole,” I mutter around my toothbrush.
I finish brushing my teeth before pulling my curls up into a messy ponytail on top of my head. My legs still feel slightly unsteady as I walk back into the bedroom. Michael’s sitting against the headboard in nothing but a pair of black boxers. His eyes track to me as I climb onto the bed.
“What?” I ask defensively.
He smiles.
“Come here, Doll.”
I roll my eyes even as I crawl into his lap, straddling him in my shirt and panties. His hands settle on my thighs while mine slide down his chest, fingertips tracing over warm skin, ink, and dark chest hair.
“You really said fuck a shirt, huh?”
He throws his head back laughing, and I love that I can do that to him. It seems like I’m the only one who can.
“You think I’m funny?”
“Yes, Katie. I think you’re very funny,” he says reaching up and running his hand along my cheek. I lean into it.
“That’s good,” I say. “Because I’m going to be saying insane shit for the rest of my life.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
God, I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with this man.
“I’ve got a question for you,” I say, sliding my hands over his shoulders.
He tips his head back against the headboard to look at me. “This should be interesting.”
“Why’d you come into the bar that first night?”
A slow smile spreads across his face.
“Why should I tell you?”
“You’re in a very compromising position,” I say, glancing pointedly at his crotch. “To be withholding information from me.”
He licks his lips, chuckling.
“Alright. Fine. You know that stoplight right outside?”
Confusion pulls at my face. “Yeah.”
“Luca and I were stopped there that afternoon.” His hands drift up and down my arms. “I looked over, and you were walking toward the entrance.”
My eyes widen.
“Oh my fucking God. You really are a stalker.”
He wraps his arms fully around my waist and pulls me against his chest.
“I said, ‘Luca, I need a drink.’” His mouth brushes close to mine. “You know the rest.”
“Wow. Wow. Wow.” I’m barely a breath away from his mouth when I say it. “You are literally the biggest creeper on the planet.”
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “But I’m your creeper.”
Then he pulls me into a kiss.
God, why is this man so attractive even when he says absolutely diabolical shit like that?