Chapter Six
Michael
I hummed as I cleaned the mess we’d made last night. Danielle’s purse had fallen on the floor, the mirror over the table hung at a crooked angle, and one of my wellies lay beneath the table. I righted the mirror, placed her purse on the table, and stood the boot by the umbrella stand with its mate.
After gathering our clothes from the floor, along with her lacy wisp of a bra and the little black number she’d used to sop up the rain, I moved on to pick up the blouse and wool suit she’d worn to her meeting. She was right. The suit was ruined. But it would be worth every penny to replace it. And I would replace it because she was worth it.
I glanced at the living room, and my dick swelled at the memory of bending her over the sofa and pounding into her hot, tight little pussy. She’d enjoyed the rough sex as much as I had.
Afterward, though, I’d carried her upstairs and wrapped myself around her soft body to sleep for a couple of hours before making love to her—slow, sweet, and easy as if we’d done it a million times. She’d woken me at dawn, straddling my hips, taking me deep, and riding me into heaven.
We’d passed out again, sleeping until midmorning when I slipped on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, crept from the room, and headed downstairs. I could easily imagine spending my days and nights like this. I’d never felt that way about a woman, only with Danielle.
The doorbell rang as I laid our damp clothes on top of the dryer. I hurried to the door so that whoever it was wouldn’t push the bell again and wake her.
When I opened the door, I was surprised to see my mother. I opened the door wider. “Mum, get out of the rain.”
She ducked inside. “I won’t stay, but the rain slowed some, and I thought Danielle might need something to wear besides her dress and the suit…in case she hasn’t found her keys.”
“You’re the best.” I kissed her cheek as I took the bag from her and set it on the entry table. “She’s still asleep, but if you can wait, I’ll wake her. I’m sure she’d love to thank you properly.”
“No, no. I’m having an early lunch with Deborah.”
“Well, hold on. Let me get the umbrella, and I’ll walk you out.”
“Wait.” She placed a hand on my arm. “Michael, I don’t want to be an interfering mother, but there’s something different about you, a sparkle in your eyes that hasn’t been there since before your father and I went our separate ways. I’ve always blamed myself for stealing that light from you.”
“No, Mum, don’t ever blame yourself.” With an arm around her shoulders, I pulled her in close and kissed the top of her head as guilt lodged in my chest. “We’ve talked about this. You tried with Brandon, but it was a battle best walked away from. And you are not to blame for my hang ups.”
“That’s just it, darling.” She pulled back to look up at me. “I have never considered your search for love a hang up.” She stepped away and smoothed her blouse. “What I’m trying to say is that you seem happy and…content for the first time in a very long time.”
I looked at the stairway as if the topic of our conversation might appear, then returned my focus to my mother. I couldn’t stop the grin that stretched from ear to ear. “I think I’ve found her.”
She smiled through watery eyes. “That’s wonderful.”
“Mum, don’t cry.” I could never stand to see a woman cry, especially my mother. She’d done too much of it in my youth.
“Happy tears, darling. Happy tears.” She brushed them away and looked at her watch. “Well, then. I’ll leave you to it and be on my way.”
“I love you, Mum.”
Shit . Fresh tears welled. “I love you, too. Now, let me get out of here before my behavior puts this downpour to shame.”
Chuckling, I opened the door, then stopped to put on my wellies. Something stabbed my big toe. I pulled my foot out and reached inside. Whatever was in there was stuck. It finally came loose, and I withdrew…a set of keys with a keyring stating the owner was Britain’s bitch.
“Are those the infamous missing keys?” my mother asked, her hands clapping silently.
My chest tightened, and my heart stalled. “I guess so.”
They certainly weren’t mine, but I recognized the key ring. And if I was right…
I looked up the stairs again.
“Oh, lovely. Now, everything is set to rights.”
“Yeah,” I murmured, nausea swirling in my gut.
“Well, I should go.”
Somehow, I managed to walk my mum to her car without throwing up, but as she drove away, shock and confusion glued my feet to the sidewalk.
There were millions of key rings like the one I’d found. It didn’t have to be Dom’s, the one I’d given him to celebrate the closing of his new home, the one that said Dom was Britain’s Bitch now that he’d signed his life away on a mortgage.
Unable to shake my suspicions, I stood there another long moment, rain soaking me to the bone, before I turned slowly toward the house, dragging the umbrella behind me.
Absently, I slogged into the house and closed the door. I didn’t want to believe it. That Danielle could be Dominic’s sister Daisy.
My gaze fell on her purse, and I swallowed. If I called the number Dom had texted to me…and her cell rang…I couldn’t go back. I couldn’t unknow the truth. That she’d been lying to me.
My heart pounded harder, faster. Was it all just a game to her? Was she playing me? I didn’t want to think so. She seemed to genuinely like me and want to be with me.
Fuck . Bile rose in my throat. If I called Daisy’s number and it turned out to be a coincidence…
“Bloody hell.” I dug my phone from my jeans and found Dom’s text.
The number glared back at me in black and white, possible evidence that the whole time she’d been with me she’d been lying. I tapped the line of numbers, held my breath, and stared at her purse, willing it to be silent. Through the line, I heard Daisy’s phone ring.
A millisecond later, Danielle’s purse vibrated, and my heart sank. After four rings, voicemail picked up. “This is Danielle Russo. Leave a message at the tone.”
My fingers tightened around my phone, and I wanted to throw the damn thing across the room, but that wouldn’t do anything to appease the hurt firing my anger. Why’d she do it? What did she have to gain by lying? The attraction still would have been undeniable. Dom’s sister or not, I’d still have wanted her. Wouldn’t I?
I’d always gone with my instincts, and they’d never let me down. While Danielle had her secrets, my gut told me there wasn’t a mean bone in her body. Her emotions were real, her heart sincere. And I hadn’t missed the way her eyes softened when she looked at me. She’d cried during sex, for fuck’s sake. Didn’t that say something?
The fucking silence in the room wasn’t reassuring, but the way I figured it. I had three options.
I could give her the fucking keys, call her a fucking cab, hustle her ass out of my life and never fucking see her again. That idea scared the shit out of me. I’d waited a long time to find her. I didn’t want to let her go.
Some of my anger dissipated as I dismissed option number one.
Option number two was to give her the keys and ask her to stay so that I had time to convince her we had something special. If she realized that, hopefully, she would confess her deceit and tell me why she’d lied. That was a good option.
The last option was a bit riskier. I could lay the keys by her purse, wait for her to find them, and see what happened. She’d either say “It’s been fun.” Or she’d want to stay without me having to ask. I wanted the decision to be hers.
Risky for certain, but I’d already made that plain in telling her I wanted to get to know her. It was time for her to decide what she wanted. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t do everything in my power to fucking lead her toward my way of thinking.
Blowing out a long breath, I laid the keys beside her purse and went back to the laundry. The ball was in her court.
****
Danielle
Once again, I found myself wearing Michael’s white dress shirt and on my way down the stairs to find him. I smiled at how we couldn’t seem to make it inside the front door before devouring each other.
Something smelled delicious, but I was hungrier for him than whatever he was cooking. But before I got too busy getting busy in the kitchen, I needed to check for any news from the museum or Dominic. Funny, I hadn’t given either much thought once the interview was over. Michael had stolen my every thought. And my heart.
Who was I kidding? It had always been his.
As I drew closer to the table in the entryway, my tummy took a tumble. A set of keys lay beside my purse. Dominic’s keys. My gaze snapped toward the kitchen, but a short wall blocked my view of the stove. I could hear him humming.
I glanced back at the keys and swallowed hard. He’d found them and obviously put them here for me to see. So that I’d leave? My excuse to stay no longer existed.
But I wasn’t ready to go.
Nerves jittering, I dropped the keys in my purse, grabbed my phone, and scrolled through the missed calls. Making time to call Dominic was a priority. The most recent call was a number I didn’t recognize. A London number. The museum?
I flipped to my messages. One of them, another London number, had to be from the museum.
Unknown: The job is yours. Call Monday at your convenience.
This was the reason I’d come to England in the first place. I should be overjoyed, dancing in my underwear…if I had any to dance in. But taking the job meant living in the same city as Michael, possibly running into him and seeing him with someone else on his arm.
I didn’t want to think about that right now, though.
Stuffing my phone back into my purse, I looked into the mirror and blinked, barely recognizing the woman looking back at me. My skin glowed, my hair was a wild untamed mess, and my eyes shone like a woman well and truly fucked. No, it wasn’t just a random fuck. I was happy. Happier than I’d been since…ever.
All the alarm bells clanged in my head, screaming at me to run before my heart shattered into pieces. But it was too late to save my heart. Either, he’d break it, or he wouldn’t, and I’d have to live with the fallout. Until then, I hoped Michael would share a little more of himself with me.
With a sigh, I walked into the kitchen. He looked up and smiled, and my tummy did a flip that knocked over a whole breadbasket of butterflies. And the way his gaze traveled over my legs…
“Good morning,” I said tentatively as I drew closer, trying to gauge his mood other than the obvious arousal narrowing his eyes on my tits. I’d left all the buttons on the shirt undone except one.
Just because he wants to fuck me doesn’t mean he wants me to stay.
Shut up.
“More like afternoon.” He handed me a cup of coffee. “Are you hungry?”
I arched a brow over the rim of the mug. “Very.”
He turned back to the stove to mash the toasted bread oozing cheese. “Food first, or we’ll die of malnutrition in my bed.”
“I was thinking about the kitchen counter.” I patted the marble covering the large island.
He groaned and hauled me against his hard frame with one arm. His mouth brushed mine lightly. “You are definitely asking for it.”
“Would you prefer me on my knees, begging?” I ran a hand over his chest, loving the play of taut muscles under the faded blue T-shirt. “Because that can be arranged.”
“Oh, I’d love you on your knees, but your beautiful mouth would be too full to do any begging.” His tongue lapped at my lips, and a zing rippled from my nipples to my clit. He tasted of coffee and mint and Michael. His hand slid under the shirt and palmed one cheek, then slapped my ass.
“Yow!” The playful swat startled me but didn’t really hurt. Heat bloomed across the injured cheek and melted into my core.
With a quick kiss, he set me aside. “You’re going to make me burn lunch.”
The lingering sting had me rubbing my ass as I wandered to perch on a stool. “Mmm, spank me, Daddy.”
He barked a laugh and pointed his spatula at me. “Behave or I just might.”
“Promises, promises.”
“Cheeky wench.”
Giddy with the hopefulness of the playful banter, I watched him expertly flip the grilled cheese in the skillet. My stomach growled. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d eaten. We’d nibbled on apples and grapes at one point, but that seemed ages ago.
Michael seemed happy to have me hanging around his kitchen, albeit half naked. And he was cooking for me. That was a good sign.
“Where did you find the keys?” I ventured.
“In my wellie.”
“Ouch, that sounds painful,” I quipped and squeezed my legs together.
He rolled his eyes but grinned. “Wellie, not willie.”
I knew perfectly well what he’d meant. I simply loved making him smile.
I shrugged. “If you say so.”
The kitchen settled into a comfortable silence for a few minutes, him plating the sandwiches, me watching him and trying to memorize everything about him, every mannerism, the long fingers that played so well over my skin, the cock of his hip, the tilt of his head. Everything. Like I could ever forget.
Gearing up my courage again, I asked, “Are you free this afternoon?”
His gaze met mine over his mug. Something flickered in those stormy depths. Relief? Maybe. But his whole body seemed to relax. He shook his head, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “No, afraid not. I’ll be spending it with a woman who has a sassy mouth and killer legs.”
“And what will the two of you be doing?”
“Well, for starters, I’ll be doing her …on this island.” His nod encompassed the white slab of sleek marble as he ladled tomato soup into a small bowl as if he were talking about gardening.
Heat rushed to my core and slickened the inside of my thighs as I imagined myself lying on the cold stone, Michael between my legs, pumping that delicious dick into me. I almost squirmed in my seat. “Oh? tell.”
“Actually,” he said, his tone turning serious, “if you don’t have anywhere to be, I would like to take you to my favorite place in London.”
Leaning an elbow on the counter in disappointment, I rested my chin in my palm. “Unless it’s in this house, I can’t go.” I waved a free hand to indicate his dress shirt barely covering my body. “No clothes.”
“Mum brought a change of clothes for you this morning.”
I sat up straight. “She did?”
Nodding, he placed a plate of grilled cheese and a bowl of tomato soup in front of me. “Or, since we now have your keys, we can go by your place to get some of your clothes.”
I shoved the sandwich in my mouth and took a big bite, trying to figure a way out of his suggestion. Take him to Dominic’s? No way. When the answer came to me, I swallowed a lump of cheese. “Are you kidding? Who wouldn’t want to wear something your mom designed?”
The light in his eyes dimmed a little as if he were disappointed in my answer. I couldn’t imagine why. Unless he wanted to know where to dump me later. No, no, no. I wouldn’t let my insecurities ruin the time I had left with him.
Still, I couldn’t help feeling I’d somehow let him down.
Shoving aside my doubts, I slid my leg against his under the counter. “So, you think I have killer legs?”
****
Danielle
“Is this appropriate for your favorite place?” I twirled at the foot of the stairs for Michael’s approval. I’d used his brush, braided my hair, and tied it off with a rubber band I found around the celery in the refrigerator. Nothing I could do about makeup, so I scrubbed my face clean.
His gaze slowly roamed my body before settling on my face. “You’re perfect.”
The jeans Laura had chosen fit like a dream. The blouse, a soft pink with tiny white flowers, had long flowy sleeves that poofed and gathered at the wrist. The sheer gauzy material revealed an underlying white cami. I’d ditched the black bra, but the cami was tight and held the girls in place.
The only thing that didn’t fit with the ensemble was the stiletto sandals. First thing, wherever we went, I was buying a pair of flats.
Michael handed my purse to me, and I looped it over my head, so the strap rested diagonally between my boobs and the clutch settled on my hip. He grabbed my hand and wove his fingers with mine, his excitement infectious as he swept me out the door.
Instead of heading to his car, he walked me up the sidewalk. I matched his long stride to keep up with him and grimaced at the pinch of my sandals. “Are we going to your mother’s again? Is that why we’re walking?”
He gave me a funny look, then my meaning seemed to catch up with him. “Right. Mum’s house isn’t far, and I did tell you I like to walk there, but no. It’s a bit farther where we’re going.”
“Not that I’d mind spending time with your mom,” I explained. “She’s a fascinating woman. I just don’t think these shoes were made for hiking. I need to stop somewhere to buy something comfier.”
“Not to worry, lu—sorry.” He slowed his pace. “Where we’re going has everything you could ever need.”
“You’re being awfully mysterious.”
“We all have secrets, but you’ll know mine as soon as we get there.”
I chewed my lip as I sank deeper into the pit of deceit I’d dug myself into. I wanted to tell him everything and hoped he’d understand, but I just couldn’t risk losing the precious and quickly diminishing time I had with him.
A couple of blocks from his house, he stopped at the corner. “I’m going to leave our transportation up to you. Would you rather take the underground or ride the bus?”
“Hmm, the underground sounds intriguing, but I don’t want to be down in the dark. I want to do the touristy thing. I want to see the city.”
“Double-decker it is, then.” He pointed to one of the iconic red double-decker buses pulling up.
A few minutes later, we were seated on the upper level. Michael had given me the outside window so I could take in the view.
“Will we be able to see Big Ben? Or London Bridge? Or the Thames?” I asked without taking my eyes off the passing cityscape. “And the Tower? Can we see that?”
He leaned close, his chest to my back, one arm along the back of my seat. “Only if we go in the other direction. We’ll see those another day.”
Another day? My insides churned and my heart ached.
I felt an overwhelming urge to kiss him quiet, to beg him to take me back to his house, to lock the world away so there was no need for words that couldn’t be said with our bodies. Because whether I stayed in London or not, my time with Michael was running out.
****
Michael
“There.” I pointed as the bus bumped along Kensington High Street, Danielle’s enthusiasm rubbing off on me. It was like seeing the city I adored through new eyes again—her eyes. I wanted her to love it as much as I did. I couldn’t wait to show her all of London and its countryside. Wherever she wanted to go, I’d take her.
If she got the job and moved here from the States.
I didn’t want to think about how I’d feel if she didn’t. “That’s Leighton House. You might find it of interest if you’re into art history.” I kissed the back of her slender neck. “You like art, right? I mean, we met at the art exhibit.”
She shivered and tugged the sexy braid out of the way, inviting me to taste more of her, yet I wasn’t unaware of how her shoulders stiffened at the subtle opening for her to finally trust me and tell me the truth. “Yes, I-I do love art.”
I sat back in my seat, ignoring the tightening in my chest. Perhaps she didn’t trust me. Dom had a hard time trusting anyone that first year at uni. We’d been assigned as dorm mates and were well into our second semester before Dom let his guard down. It had taken another year before he opened up about his family situation.
It stood to reason Danielle might have the same issues with trust. I just needed to be patient.
The double-decker jumped on the A3220 North and skipped along, and in a matter of minutes, we were approaching the Westway Roundabout where traffic picked up.
I glanced at Danielle and smiled at her nose practically mashed to the glass like a kid looking in a candy store. “Our stop is coming up.”
The bus finally pulled over at the corner of Cambridge Gardens and Portobello Road.
“This is us.” I slid out of the seat and into the aisle, backing up so that she could go ahead of me.
When we stood on the sidewalk, she looped her arm through mine. “Out of all the places in London, this is your favorite?”
“It is.” I covered her hand with mine and led her up Portobello Road to the first clothing shop. “Let’s see if they have any shoes.”
Fifteen minutes later, a pair of flat, white sandals lay on the counter, along with a large Union Jack bag.
“To carry my heels in,” she said, “and anything else we find.”
I pulled out my wallet, but she handed the cashier a card.
Her gaze slid to mine, and she shook her head. “Thank you, but I pay my own way. You and your mom have done enough.”
She was definitely as proud as Dom. Too many times, he’d missed out rather than accept anyone’s “charity.”
As we wandered down the row of multi-colored tents and buildings, stopping at each vendor, I wasn’t sure we’d make it to the end before dark. We’d gotten a late start, and Danielle oohed and aahed and touched everything. She chatted with people from all walks of life peddling their wares. We explored everything from books and jewelry to vintage clothing and antiques. It was a good thing her new bag was big because she’d stuffed it full of homemade soaps, candles, and shampoo.
“Gifts for back home,” she offered.
Finally, an opening I’d been waiting for. “Family?”
“No, just friends and co-workers,” she said, her tone taking on a cautious edge as she turned away to thumb through a book. I wondered if she even read the title or saw the words on the pages before laying it back down.
“So, you know a lot about me—where I live, what I do. You’ve even met my mum.” I picked up the same book, flipped it over, and pretended to read the blurb. “Are you going to tell me anything about yourself?”
She picked up another book. “I thought we agreed that a woman is allowed her mysteries.”
“I never really agreed, and you did say I was welcome to uncover as many secrets as I could.”
Hugging the book to her chest, she turned to look at me from beneath thick, black lashes, in a shy but seductive way that made me forget what we were talking about. “I’d say you’ve uncovered quite a lot.” She lowered her voice. “By now, you know almost as much about my body as I do.”
As she’d obviously intended, my cock stretched to fill out my jeans. As much as I’d like to resolve that problem behind one of the tents, I wouldn’t be deterred by sex, which seemed to be her go to for keeping me distracted. “What’s your last name? Can you at least tell me that?”
“I can tell you my middle name is Anne.”
I blew out a breath of frustration. “That will do…for now.”
Laying aside the book she’d been clutching, she turned away and exited the tent. The sun had crept low on the horizon, casting shadows from the buildings onto the road. Streetlights flickered on.
I followed her to the next awning, but she didn’t linger over the colorful scarves. Her eyes had lost their sparkle, and her teeth gnawed at her lower lip. Bloody hell, I’d wanted her to enjoy our outing, and now, I’d upset her.
Grasping her elbow, I pulled her to one side of the sidewalk and tugged her in for a brief kiss. “I’m sorry. I only want to know more about you.”
A sadness in her dark eyes cut me to the quick before she blinked it away and attempted a smile “I know.”
She didn’t offer more, so I let it go and tucked her arm in mine. “Let’s get something to eat.”
I knew who she was. That would have to be enough until she was ready to trust me.
****
Danielle
“Wake up. We’re here.” Michael’s deep voice roused me from a dream.
Lifting my head from his shoulder, I tried to get my bearings. It was dark, and we were in the back of the rideshare he’d called. We’d both been tired and full from a delicious Italian meal, but the mood between us had changed. We hadn’t recaptured the ease we shared all weekend.
As we’d crawled in the car after dinner, I only meant to close my eyes for a few minutes, but with his arms around me, I’d snuggled closer, savoring the feel and scent of him. But the weekend had caught up with me, exhaustion stealing what could be my last moments with him. And now, I wasn’t sure where we stood or if he would want me to leave.
I’d ruined everything. I could have made up a last name. I almost had. But I was determined not to lie to him any more than I already had.
The driver pulled to a stop in front of Michael’s house, and I slid out of the car behind him. Once inside the front door, we took off our shoes, and I padded barefoot behind him into the kitchen where he placed our to-go boxes in the fridge.
I pulled fruit and cheese from the bag, along with some of the homemade hand cream. “Will you see that your mother gets this? It’s not much, but she was so kind and generous.”
When he didn’t answer, I looked up. He was doing that quiet thing again that unnerved me. Standing at the sink, his arms braced on the white porcelain, he stared out the window into his little backyard.
Perhaps I really had overstayed my welcome. The bridge of my nose burned at the thought of leaving tonight. It would be hard enough to leave in the morning.
Hoping I was wrong, I rounded the island and slipped my arms around his waist. I laid my cheek against his back and listened to his heart beat. “Do you want me to go?”
He stirred from his musings and turned to face me. Leaning against the sink, he spread his legs and pulled me between them. One hand palmed the side of my neck, his thumb grazing a path of desire along my jaw. The butterflies in my belly fluttered their tiny wings, but a cold veil of anxiety weighed them down.
Solemn gray eyes tracked his actions for a moment, but now, they searched mine. “Do you want to go?”
“No.” I bit my lip to keep it from trembling and held my breath.
“Then stay.” He lowered his head, and his mouth feathered over mine.
The kiss was tender, sweet, and agonizing all at once. This would be my last night with Michael.
I tightened my arms around him and pressed my body against his, suddenly desperate to show him how I felt since I couldn’t tell him. He palmed my ass and dragged me against his hard erection.
Easing back, I murmured against his lips, “Make love to me, Michael.”
He groaned and swept me into his arms. He carried me through the kitchen and living room and up the stairs, eating at my lips the entire way. Stopping at the foot of the bed, he slowly lowered my feet to the floor and tugged my shirt and camisole over my head. I shoved his T-shirt out of the way, so I could kiss his chest as I started on the button and zipper of his jeans. With one hand, he reached behind his head and yanked his shirt the rest of the way off.
Thought took a backseat to instinct as I drew the denim down narrow hips and long, muscular legs. His cock sprang forward, and I reached for the velvety shaft.
His fingers manacled my wrist. “Not this time.”
Before I could blink, Michael lifted and tossed me on the bed. “Jeans off.”
With trembling fingers, I unbuttoned my jeans, but he yanked them off before I got them unzipped. Crawling backward up the bed, I had time to catch a single breath, and then he was over me, nudging my knees apart, the head of his cock nudging my entrance. His mouth slanted over mine as, inch by inch, he drove forward, stretching my inner walls in slow abandon, filling me…completing me.
I lifted my legs so that my knees rode against his ribs. He slid deeper.
He tore his mouth from mine in a strangled growl. “Bloody hell, you feel so fucking good.”
“Mmm.”
“I forgot a condom.” It sounded more like a question.
“I got the shot.” My core clenched around his hard-as-steel cock.
His face contorted. “I’ve never gone without a rubber, but if—”
“Same.” With a tilt of my hips, I encouraged him to move. I needed the closeness to him just this once…one final time.
Resting on his elbows, he started a leisurely rhythm. His lips parted mine in a hungry kiss, his tongue taking up the same deliberate pace, and I drowned in the turmoil of overwhelming emotion—joy, despair, love.
Then the delicious friction sparked, and I lost myself to the building fury. Hotter and hotter, like a storm of fire in a chasm just out of reach, the all-consuming pleasure lured me to its edge.
His hand found my breast, squeezing once before his fingers pinched and rolled the taut bud. I dove headfirst into the unforgiving flames of pure bliss. Every nerve ending sizzled and lava poured through my veins.
Somewhere beyond the vortex of fire, Michael’s guttural roar echoed in my ears. Pulsing hot jets of cum filled me, creating sweet jolts of aftershocks. If I turned to ash, it wouldn’t matter, as long as he was with me.
Too soon, awareness snuck around the corners of my subconscious, dousing the glowing embers. The sound of our heavy breathing, the smell of sex, the wetness between my thighs. And the calming weight of his muscles settling on top of me. I drank it all in until reality invaded and I remembered I’d never feel this way again.
I felt the familiar sting behind my eyes as he eased to one side and took me with him, so that we lay together in a tangle of limbs, skin to skin, spent, a fine sheen of moisture coating our bodies. Silent tears slipped from my tightly clenched eyes as I waited for his breathing to slow and his body to grow lax.
When I was sure Michael slept soundly, I eased from beneath his possessive grasp. Hovering over him, I brushed a lock of tawny hair from his forehead and bent to kiss his cheek. “I love you.”
His lips curled upward in a wicked smile. For a moment, I thought he’d wake, but his mouth relaxed and his breathing evened.
I slipped out of bed, leaving the jeans and blouse where they lay on the floor, and tiptoed downstairs to find the dress I’d worn to the gallery Thursday night. God, it seemed so long ago, and yet it had gone by so fast…too fast.
Heart pounding, I found the dress on the washing machine and tugged it over my head. As it fell into place, I hesitated only a second before grabbing Michael’s white dress shirt from the top of the pile. I held it to my nose and breathed him in. My heart panged, screaming at me to go back upstairs, to crawl into bed, and steal as much time as I could with him.
Instead, I let my feet carry me to the kitchen where I shoved the shirt into the Union Jack bag and crept to the front door. I slipped into my flats, and with a hasty glance at the stairs, I asked myself for the thousandth time if leaving this way was the right thing to do. Once again, the answer was no, but what else could I do?
Tell him the truth.
Michael would never understand my reasons for keeping secrets, for lying. This was the best way for both of us. He could move on, no doubt with a sigh of relief. And I wouldn’t have to feel the crushing blow of rejection, of being unloved, of…
Turning away, I opened the door and stepped into the purplish light of dawn.