20. Diana
I hook my ankles together, pulling him into me, feeling him hard and hot between my legs as I run my teeth over his finger.
“Jesus, Diana.” When I release it, he cups my face and runs his thumb over my lower lip so gently, it almost distracts me. But then he presses his lips to mine, his tongue diving deep into my mouth.
The sounds coming from him are driving me to within an inch of madness, making it impossible to think straight.
“I can taste the honey on your tongue.” His breathing is ragged as he holds my face between his hands. “I can taste it, and I want more.”
“Yes.” I want it all and I want to give him whatever he wants.
Michael pushes the straps of my top off my shoulders, kissing from one side to the next.
Without moving his mouth from my skin, he whispers, “Your scent drives me fucking insane.” He moans against my tits, flicking my nipple before kissing a path to the other side.
“It’s what inspired that summer salad—the one you had tonight?
The pomegranate and grilled peaches with the sweet honey dressing.
It’s how I imagined you’d taste. And now… ”
“Yeah?” I breathe, but I honestly can’t focus on anything other than the devastating feeling of emptiness I feel between my legs.
“Yeah.” His voice is rough and wild and I’m in love with it.
Blindly, Michael reaches for the honey wand once more with one hand, while the other pushes my shirt and strapless bra over my breasts, down to my waist. He stands up and drizzles the honey over my chest, focusing on my nipples. “Now I get to try you for myself.”
Michael carefully sets the wand back into the glass container before diving back into me, his tongue lapping up the honey from my tits, lingering playfully on my nipples, teeth tugging.
I can’t help the moan that breaks free from my lips, the way my hands move into his hair to find some grip or purchase in reality.
I’m seconds away from exploding in a way I never have before, and it’s mind-bending and confusing and the best thing I’ve experienced in years, if not ever.
I feel almost guilty, reveling in this pleasure because it’s for me—just for me—and no one else.
It goes against who I am, against the way I live my life every day.
On top of that, I can’t remember the last time I did this with someone else. My sex life with Rodrigo ended years before divorce proceedings were even filed, years before I found out about his girlfriend.
God, what if I suck? What if the sexual chemistry is great now, but when it comes to the actual action, I won’t know what to do anymore? And do I really want to do this with him for the first time on a kitchen counter? Not that it isn’t hot, but maybe he’d like for us to have a better set up?
I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing I could get my mind to stop racing, praying I can find a way to let myself enjoy this moment.
But I can’t.
As if he were able to read my mind, despite being very clearly occupied, Michael straightens. “Where did you go? Come back to me.” He cups my face in his hands and gives me another drugging kiss, his lips sweet and syrupy.
“I’m…” At a loss for words.
“You’re shaking. Do you want to stop?” His breathing is ragged, his green eyes dark and ravenous, and I know the last thing Michael Haynes wants right now is to stop touching me. But I also know that he would in a second if I asked him to.
My first instinct is to brush it off, but he’s giving me the chance to be honest about what I want and need. So I take a beat and really think about it before responding: “Just… overwhelmed. In a good way.” I pull him down for a peck. “Thanks, though. For checking in.”
“Always. I always want to make sure you’re okay,” he tells me, his eyes more sincere than I’ve ever seen them before.
My heart pirouettes, so I kiss him, sinking into him and this moment, marveling at the speed with which this thing between us seems to be evolving now that we’re letting go.
Suddenly, his shirt is off and he’s kicking off his shoes. His pants and my skirt follow.
“I haven’t done this in a while,” I whisper into his chest.
“We can stop whenever you want, Diana. I can keep going, or we can get dressed, and I can drive you home. Either way, I feel…” He exhales, his gaze on mine.
“I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time.
Knowing you care about me, too…” he says with an awed smile on his face, shaking his head.
“Well, I don’t think I could be happier.
So if you want to press pause, I’m okay with that.
You don’t need to worry about me being a dick and getting upset. ”
I place a soft kiss to his lips and pull back to smile at him. “I think I might not be ready for sex just yet. But… other things…”
His grin is wicked, eyes gleaming in delight, and if I were standing, his dimples would have my knees buckling.
“Other things? Yeah, we can do other things.” Michael wiggles his brows, making me roll my eyes. But then he kisses up my neck and puts his lips to my ear as he whispers, “I can make you feel so fucking good with other things.”
I can’t help the whimper that escapes my mouth.
“Would you like that, baby?”
I gasp as he bites my neck, feeling so empty all of a sudden I could cry. “Yes, Chef.”
“Oh, fuck.” He groans and sucks on my neck while his hand skims up my thighs until they reach my underwear. With the back of his fingers, he grazes the delicate lace between my thighs, groaning when he feels the moisture.
“Fuck, you’re so wet.” His voice does things to me, heating my already ignited skin. With a slow, frustrating pace, Michael slowly moves my underwear aside, moving his fingers up and down my wetness. “This for me?”
“God,” I call out, leaning back on the steel counter, supporting myself with my hands.
“No, not god. You know who I am, don’t you?”
It takes me a second to grasp what he means—the lust fog caused by the way his fingers play between my legs not helping the situation—but then: “Yes, Chef.”
And with those words, I know I’ve fully unleashed Michael.
He drops to his knees and pushes my legs apart, making room for himself.
His torturous, slow kissing up my thighs drives me to the edge of insanity, but he thankfully does not hesitate once he reaches his intended target.
With one slow swipe, I melt over the counter, hair spreading everywhere.
My hands fly to take hold of the edge when his tongue reaches my clit, and my back arches when he slides two fingers into me.
Breathing ragged, my mind blurs as it tries to process this pure, unbelievable pleasure.
As it tries to parse the loving words he breathes against where I’m wet and pulsing—So fucking beautiful and been wanting to do this since the day I met you and most perfect woman in the world—and the rough way his fingers wrap around my thighs as he holds me down.
I’m close. So close. So goddamn close.
And I think I’ve said the words aloud because Michael’s movements grow faster, more intense.
His fingers are magic, tapping in just the right spot and pulling me under as his mouth on my clit finally sends me into sensation overload.
And I’m there, clenching around his fingers, calling his name over and over again like a prayer.
Because, my god, this is the closest thing I’ve come to a religious experience in my life.
I never want to be without it again.
After a few minutes of trying to catch my breath, I somehow manage to sit up.
Michael helps me clean up the remnants of honey all over my chest with a smirk on his face and a damp, clean dish towel.
The way he puffs up his chest in pride is so adorable I pull him in for a soft kiss.
When our lips meet, he inhales deeply and holds the breath in, as if wanting to keep my scent with him always.
The need for him builds almost immediately once again, a hunger that might never be satiated.
“I need to take you home. And I need to get home, too,” he whispers against my lips.
With a sigh, I nod, and pull away.
“This kitchen is wild,” I tell him, hoping the complete change in subject will knock my one-track mind in a different direction.
I pull my shirt over my head and try not to ogle Michael as he looks around at the room for his t-shirt, bare-chested.
“It’s good for now, but I’m hoping for something better for our brick and mortar. If we find the space.” He sighs, finally putting his t-shirt on.
My pout is immediate.
All of a sudden, my conversation with Jonathan about Michael’s current financial situation pops into my head.
“Jonathan mentioned you were having financial issues,” I tell him.
His head whips in my direction. “He what?”
“Relax,” I say, putting my hands on his shoulder. “This was before he knew I knew you. When we were on our way here and he was telling me about his super talented friend who was opening a restaurant and was hosting this dinner for him in order to get him to invest.”
“He said that?”
“Yes. He also said it was an unnecessary dinner because he already knew how talented you were, and that there was no question he was going to invest in your place.”
Michael takes a step back and runs his fingers through his hair with a sigh.
“That was before I took his date from him. Even though he said it was fine…” He shakes his head, looking at me with weary eyes.
“It still wasn’t cool for him to show up with the most beautiful woman in the world and then have her be taken away from him. ”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, first, I’m not the most beautiful woman in the world.
Second, no one took me; I left willingly.
And he’s not going to back out. Jonathan doesn’t seem to be the type of person to hold a grudge.
Plus, he seemed genuinely happy you’d found—” I stop myself, because we’re both making very big assumptions.
He stole his date? Jonathan was happy Michael found someone?
Are these all givens now? We haven’t even talked about what’s going on between us—at least not really—and there are already so many absolutes being casually thrown around in conversation.
Weren’t we going to use this time after dinner to discuss what this is?
“Have I?”
“Have you what?” I ask.
He takes my hands in his before bring them up to his lips, pressing a kiss to them. “Found someone, I mean. Have I found that someone?”
I inhale sharply, a rope around my heart tightening at the idea of him and I together.
This. I want this.
“I—” I clear my throat. “There are… things to consider. To talk about before we decide anything.”
“Such as?” His voice is soft as he brings my right hand to his chest, before moving the left one to wrap around the back of his neck.
Michael presses a soft kiss against my lips, and I lose all ability to speak. How can he still do this to me after what just happened? Shouldn’t I be desensitized or something?
“You were saying?” he murmurs.
“I have a hard time speaking when you touch me like that,” I try to say, but the words come out breathy and ragged at the same time.
“I have a hard time, too.” I can feel his grin against the skin of my neck as he presses his hard cock where I’m already hot and wet again.
I half laugh, half moan, the knowledge that he wants this just as badly almost even more intoxicating than the moment itself.
“Michael, I’m serious,” I say, hating myself a little for pushing against his chest.
He stops immediately and gives me space, though his hands never leave my body, sliding instead from my waist and tits down to my thighs. He does, however, remain snuggly between my legs.
“I like you,” I whisper, as if it weren’t already obvious.
“I like you, too. Very, very much.”
“And this feels good, but…” I exhale and shake my head. “The more I think about it, the more I wonder whether this is the right thing to do. No matter how much either one of us wants it.”
“What? Why?” He frowns, the fog of lust clearing around us.
“Well, for starters, I live almost two thousand miles away from here. The girls and I go back to Denver in late August.”
At least that’s the plan. The temptation to stay for Labor Day weekend is big, especially since the girls don’t start school until the week after. But... No. I have responsibilities. I need to find a new apartment and get settled before the school year starts.
“I—” He exhales, eyes wide and frantic as he searches for the right words. Finally, he pulls his brows together and stares at me in determination. “That doesn’t matter to me. I don’t care.”
It’s like a blow to the chest. He doesn’t care?
“Uh—” I stutter, taking a moment to organize my thoughts.
“I think there’s been a disconnect here,” I say, my heart breaking.
If he feels a fraction of what I feel for him, he would care.
This just shows we shouldn’t be doing this—shouldn’t be alone like this together, shouldn’t be touching each other in ways that light our skin on fire.
“While I respect that you don’t care,” I say, suppressing the sudden urge to vomit the fantastic dinner I enjoyed earlier tonight, “I’m not that type of person.
You’re the first guy I’ve liked since—” I clear my throat.
“It’s fine if you want to do the whole casual thing, but that’s not me.
I don’t think I could manage that. That isn’t what this is to me, so I should probably lea—”
“Wait, no,” he cuts me off, holding me on the counter before I can jump off. “That’s not what I meant. What I meant was that I don’t care that you live somewhere else because I really like you and I’m sure two intelligent people like ourselves can figure out something by the end of the summer.”
I grimace. “Like what?”
He shrugs, helpless. “I don’t know. But I want to try. Please.” He swallows once, hands shaking as he brings them to my face. “Please, Diana. Don’t let this die before we even give it a chance to start.”
I search for something in his eyes, unsure of what exactly, but enough to tell me that this won’t turn into a massive mistake.
“I like you so much, I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my feelings from deepening,” I whisper, this admission ripping at my chest. Shaking, terrified I’ve exposed too much of myself and my aching heart, I put my hands on his chest.
He moves closer, his mouth millimeters from mine. With his eyes on my lips, he breathes “Diana, I’m already in so deep, I can’t see sunlight. I’m here, waiting to catch you whenever you’re ready.”