13. Michael
Chapter 13
Michael
I watch her chest rise and fall, the slight flutter of her eyelashes and her lips—no longer quivering. After what happened in the court and the mess she was on the way here, I don’t want to wake her.
But I cannot leave her sitting in the car, so I shake her shoulder gently.
“Mmm?” Savannah murmurs before returning to sleep.
“Hey, we’re here,” I say softly.
“Mmm?” She murmurs some more.
I sigh.
What I want to do is take her worries away. From the trauma of not being good enough for her father to getting cheated on by her ex…I want to fix everything and make it all better.
That’s the main reason I took over her case. Because the woman successfully got under my skin, I went from wanting to get rid of her to needing to be around her.
I shake her shoulder again, but she doesn’t stir.
“I wish I could let you sleep here,” I say softly, touching her cheek, “but I can’t, you’ll be more comfortable inside.”
Her eyelids flutter for a minute before her eyes open halfway.
“Where are we?” She asks, lifting her head to stare out the window.
“I didn’t think you’d want to go to your house, and I wasn’t sure you’d like to come to mine, so I decided that a hotel was our best bet.”
Her eyes pop open as she turns to me.
“A hotel?”
I raise both hands. “Don’t take it the wrong way. It was the only neutral place. You wouldn’t want to go to your parents’ house or stay with Peter, would you?”
She shakes her head.
“No.”
“Alright. Hotel it is, then.”
“Thanks,” she says softly.
“You’re welcome,” I reply, although there is guilt in my heart for not being able to do more.
We get out of the car, and I tell the driver to wait.
“You’re leaving?” Savannah asks as we walk through the rotating doors.
“I didn’t—do you want me to stay?” I ask.
It takes a minute, but she nods.
“Yeah. I’d like that. I don’t think I can be alone tonight.” She says.
“Okay. I’ll get two rooms.”
“Actually…”
“Yeah?” I halt and turn when she stops talking. “What is it?”
Savannah scratches her head.
“Uhm..I know this sounds ridiculous, but do you think we could get one room? I’ll use the couch, and you can take the bed. It’s just…if you get two rooms, I’ll still be alone. Having someone around forces me to think about something else.”
I nod. “Alright. One room it is. Although I’m not sure if I’ll be good company, but I’ll try my best.” I say.
She smiles at that—a small smile—but my heart leaps at it as it sends a pleasant bolt of lightning through my body.
I shake it off, nodding before walking up to the reception. Taking the best room they have available, we head to the elevator. The elevator ride is quiet, and even though I feel the need to say something, I don’t.
“Okay,” Savannah says as we get in. “You take the bed, and I’ll take the couch.”
“No. You take the bed. You need to rest,” I insist.
She shakes her head.
“I did a lot of that in the car. Also, I dragged you into the situation. I’ll take the couch.” She tries to convince me.
“We’re not going to argue about this,” I say with a note of finality. “Take the bed or don’t. Either way,” I glance at the long couch, picturing a night without my bed, “I’m taking the couch.”
Then I stride over to it, sitting down before curling into a sleeping position.
Savannah nods, and I watch her go into the main bedroom from the corner of my eyes. When I hear the door close, I sigh softly.
In all my years of being an attorney, I have had setbacks but this trial hasn’t gotten off to the best start, and I already feel like I’ve failed her.
She trusted me. Right from that day, I took her hand, and we left the police station. Savannah trusted me to clear her name.
This is my fault, I got a little too cocky. With my years of winning, I thought this would be a slam dunk.
I should have accepted that detective’s help because it seems my connections are beginning to lose their effectiveness. And why would they search her place while she was away, did someone tip them off, or was this a setup?
I need to find whoever did this. They must know what happened to Brandon.
The door opens, and I glance in that direction, wondering why she’s not asleep.
Then she comes into view—with her hair down and a pillow clutched to her chest. Her shirt has been stripped down to a camisole.
But it’s her feet—the matte black color on her toenails that does it for me. Lust shoots to my groin as I take another look at her—tousled hair, sleepy eyes with drooping eyelids, and the pillow.
Wouldn’t it be nice to be that pillow?
“I—I can’t sleep,” she says sheepishly.
I sit up. “Is something wrong?”
She shakes her head.
“No. I just…my thoughts. I’m frightened.”
My eyes narrow as I see her expression clearly and the tears that gather in her eyes. It makes my heart ache, so I get up from the couch. To do the only thing I know how to since words have failed.
I wrap my arms around Savannah, pulling her in for a hug. She sighs wearily, laying her head on my chest. The smell of the shampoo she must have used to wash her hair this morning fills my nostrils.
A simple lavender scent becomes an aphrodisiac, and my body reacts to it faster than I can temper my thoughts. Savannah feels it, too, and she goes still in my arms.
“I’m sorry,” I say, moving away. “That was not supposed to happen. I assure you,” I lift both hands, “I was only going to offer you comfort… I’m sorry.”
“But I didn’t say anything,” she says, suddenly clear-eyed.
I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. We shouldn’t—you should go to bed,” I say reluctantly.
Savannah doesn’t move an inch, even as I head back to the couch. She stands there, and I eventually have to look away, covering my crotch with a pillow.
When I hear her footsteps approaching, I turn sharply.
“Savannah—”
She halts in front of me and bends low, so low that our faces are inches away from touching. I feel her breath, I hear her soft sighs, and I see the look of vulnerability in her eyes.
“Kiss me,” she says.
“I shouldn’t,” I say softly.
“I know but I want you to,” she whispers.
“We should call it a night before we do something we won’t be able to take back in the morning,” I try to resist.
She shakes her head.
“I don’t want to.”
“Savannah,” her name wrenches out of my mouth, but I don’t get to say anything more as her lips press against mine, stealing my words. And my breath. And my clarity.
A bit of my sanity, too, because it takes only seconds for me to wrap my arms around her waist and pull her down on my lap. Primal instincts kick it, and the kiss goes from acknowledging the attraction between us to consummating it.
I bite her bottom lip before soothing the slight pain with my tongue, making her whimper. Her tongue explores the corners of my mouth in a ravishing manner that has my heart stopping its work to redirect blood flow to my groin.
I tug down the camisole, snapping the tiny straps in my way. With no barrier between us, I bend my head low, covering her breasts with my palm and my mouth.
Soft whimpers from her mouth reach my ears—pleasant, stirring, and urging. I cup her breasts in my hand, teasing her nipples while my tongue traces the slope of her neck.
“Michael,” she breathes.
“Savannah,” I reply hoarsely, jerking hard when her hand strays to my pants and covers the bulge squeezing lightly.
Savannah’s hips grind forward, stealing harsh groans from me and pushing my control close to the point of no return. I place both hands around her waist as my teeth mark her skin—biting softly.
She moans my name louder, and her actions become more impatient as her hands struggle to get my zipper down.
“Why. Won’t. This. Go. Down?”
I chuckle at the frustration in her voice.
“I have to stand up for it to do down,” I manage to get out, as every move she makes is one pleasant torture after the other.
She makes a noise of disapproval, so I do it myself, lifting her butt with both hands. Her satisfied sigh follows the sound of my zipper coming loose.
Fuck—
“Savannah,” I groan when, unabashedly, as her hands dig into my pants, wrapping around my cock. “I want to fuck you.”
“Good,” she nods. “I want that too.”
I laugh. “You’re a bad girl, wanting to break the rules.”
She nods as her fingers stroke my length up and down, milking the lust that brims to the surface, almost tipping me over.
“I am. But it has to be worth it. Right now, I can’t think of anything else that I want more.”
I lift her—both legs wrap around my waist and I take her to the bedroom. It takes work—with her kissing every inch of my body that keeps my brain from performing the simplest of tasks.
I place her gently on the bed before taking off the rest of my clothes. I place them on the chair in the room, only to turn and see that she’s taken hers off, too.
I shake my head, chuckling.
“Someone’s ready,” I say excitedly.
“I am. Are you?”
“I’m whatever you want me to be,” I tease.
In a flash, she raises herself from the bed and pulls me down with her.
“Here,” Savannah wraps her legs around my body. “This is where I want you to be.”
“Well,” I brace my body on my arms to look at her, “it’s where I want to be, too.”
Slowly, patiently, like someone savoring the best moment—our eyes locked—I slip in. A harsh groan escapes my lips, and a moan from Savannah echoes in the room when I’m fully sheathed.
“Michael, I—”
I nod, going still and feeling her walls contracting around me. Squeezing me. Taking me in, in the very best of ways.
“This feels…incredible.”
She nods. “Yes, I want more.”
“That’s good. Hold on tight, because you’re about to go for a ride.”
“Oh my God yes,” she breathes.
I kiss her on the lips. “Your wish is my command.”
I pull out, almost to the tip, and thrust hard, almost lifting Savannah off the bed. She screams, reaching for the sheets and then throwing her arms around my neck.
“Fuck me,” she whimpers.
Over and over, obsessed with the need to make her come, I bury myself into Savannah’s wet warmth, driving myself and her close to the brink. I reach between our bodies with my thumb, rubbing her clit.
I feel it when she comes apart—the shudders that take over her body, her mouth falling into a soundless scream, and her core that squeezes me so tight I pull out mere seconds before I lose myself in her warmth.
I grit my teeth as I get off the bed, and hurry to the bathroom. With my hand on the wall and standing above the toilet, I curse under my breath as I get spent. Then I collapse on the seat, spending time there to catch my breath.
When I return to the room, I don’t see Savannah there. Instead, there is a note on the bed stating that she’s gone for a walk to clear her head and will be back soon.
My eyebrows furrow as I picture her head out of the room in just her camisole with torn straps and her pants—an odd combination for someone going on a walk to clear her head.
“Did she…,” I shake my head, refusing to voice the rest of my thoughts out loud. It doesn’t go away, though, and I lie on the bed, wondering if Savannah regretted the sex while I was in the bathroom, so she didn’t want to face me. That would explain her abrupt absence.
I brush my hand over my face, exhaling. Regardless of how I felt and the mutual consent, I should have stopped it from happening. I knew she needed someone, and I should have offered comfort and let it be. If she indeed left because she had regrets, then it’s my fault.