15. Diana #2
Michael doesn’t hesitate, immediately sitting up and giving me enough space to think a bit.
“What’s wrong? What did I do?” His chest rises and falls almost as quickly as mine does, his cheeks are bright red, pupils blown with the same hunger I feel, and his hair is a mess from how aggressively I must’ve run my fingers through it. Adorable and absolutely edible.
I try not to look at his jeans because I must’ve been imagining what I felt between my legs, but then my gaze slips down and—
Nope. Didn’t imagine anything at all. There it is. And...
Want. Want so bad.
“We need to stop.”
“Why?” He clears his throat and shakes his head. “Sorry. I mean, if that’s what you want, then—”
“No, it’s not what I want! Or… Actually, I don’t know what I want. That was amazing, and you’re amazing, and we’re gonna need to talk about this eventually. But the girls. They’re in there and they could come out any second and we were just dangerously close to… something.”
He exhales deeply and rubs both hands down his face, nodding. “No, you’re right. Holy shit, you’re right. Like, what if they’d walked out and…”
“Exactly.” My cheeks are sensitive from beard burn, but I don’t hate it. I shiver, part of me ashamed from the pleasure I feel in knowing I’ve been marked, even if it’s accidentally.
“Right.” He scratches the back of his head before looking back up at me with a dimpled, bashful grin. “Bummer. I was… I was really enjoying myself.”
“Yeah.” A slow smile grows across my face. “Me too.”
“Yeah?” He raises his brows.
“Duh. Did me moaning your name not give it away?”
Michael laughs. “Not really. Maybe you dry humping my leg did, though.”
“Oh, god.” I pull a towel from the table beside the chair and cover my face with it.
“C’mon.” Michael gently pries the towel from my hands. “Don’t be embarrassed—dry humping is severely underrated. That was amazing. But you’re right. We should probably get inside.”
“Right.” I get to my feet and readjust my shirt, tie my hair up in a ponytail and take a deep breath.
I slide the door open, but Michael stops me with a hand around my wrist.
“Wait,” he pleads. “We’re going to talk about this later, though, right? We’re not just gonna… I don’t know, forget about it?”
I swallow, because part of me suddenly wants to forget about it. I mean, where can this even go? But the other side wants to have that talk. It wants to ask him why I’m feeling this way because maybe he knows.
“Like I said before, I promise we’ll talk about it later.”
He blows out a puff of air and nods, relieved. “Okay. Okay, good.”
Inside, the girls chatter away on the couch, watching YouTube makeup tutorials. They’re not even teenagers yet, and I already have to worry about this.
“Hey, girls. I’m home.” I smile, and reach for the remote, pausing their video.
“Mami!” My heart warms in my chest when my girls get to their feet and hug me just as I crouch in front of them, their affection a bit unexpected but very well-received. I hug them extra tight.
“How was your day? Emi, I heard you had a bit of a hard time.”
Emi glances furtively at Rachel, and I realize that Michael was right. “Um, yeah. But I’m fine now.”
“It’s okay. We can talk about it later, if you’d like,” I whisper to her.
Emi nods gratefully.
“Guys, I thought we agreed on Masterchef Junior. Why are you watching makeup tutorials on YouTube?” Michael asks, his eyes wide and horrified on the television screen. “You’re nine years old. Emi, you’re eight!”
“Masterchef Junior? Really?” I chuckle.
“I’m trying to convince my daughter that I’m cool, okay?” He sighs as he rubs his forehead.
“So you thought forcing her to watch old episodes of Masterchef Junior would help?”
He presses his lips together, but his eyes are alight with humor. “Yes. I thought it would.”
Rachel walks up to him and takes his hand. “Cooking isn’t cool. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t, Dad.”
Michael basically melts on the spot, his face spreading into a goofy grin that makes me want to die it’s so adorable.
“R-Really?” he asks, his voice high-pitched. It’s clear from her body language that Rachel is thinking twice about her choice of words because Michael looks like he’s five seconds away from bursting into tears. “That’s, like, the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
Rachel rolls her eyes, definitely regretting causing this big moment, before Michael pulls her into a big hug.
“I’ve told you you were cool before, what are you talking about?” She tries to pull away from him, but it only makes him hug her harder.
“Yeah, but that’s when I was your uncle. Not now. You haven’t said I was cool.” He squeezes his eyes shut, his smile pure ecstasy. “I love you, Rach.”
“Oh my god, gross. Get off me. I’m never giving you a compliment again.” Rachel finally manages to scramble away, but Michael is laughing.
“That’s fine. This one will probably last me like ten years. I can wait until the next one.”
She crosses her arms and glares at him before muttering, “Not likely.”
They stay for another hour while the girls finish their videos and have dinner. When they start to fade, he carries a drowsy Rachel to his truck and sets her in the backseat, buckling her into place before walking back to me.
“Tonight was…” He sighs, hesitation in his eyes.
“It was great.” I try to smile, but the truth is my stomach is in knots. I really don’t want to talk about this. I’m not ready. I’m not even sure I know how I feel. “Thanks again for all your help today.”
“You’re welcome. Let’s talk tomorrow?” His voice is pleading, his eyes wide. The expression on his face tugs at my heart, but I’m half filled with excitement and terror at the same time.
“Yes. Sure. Tomorrow. I’ll call you.”
But I never do. And it makes the next time I see him all the more complicated.