Chapter 14 #2
As she moaned into his mouth, his hands began roaming over her shoulders, her back.
Then his mouth roamed, too, trailing down her neck, kissing the hollow of her throat.
Without even meaning to, she tipped her head back, giving him better access.
Then his fingertips found her breast and the tight bead begging for his touch, and he pinched her lightly, sending a shockwave of desire straight to her core.
She should stop this—say no—crawl out of his arms—even run away.
Instead, she moaned more deeply and clutched the back of his head, pushing him closer to her breast, to where she needed him.
She didn’t want to stop him. She wanted this to go on and on.
She wanted?—
A voice sliced right between them.
“Okay, guys, we’d better stop. I think we’re interrupting something here.”
Michaela practically leaped off Troy’s lap.
Horrified, she gaped at the four college-age, preppy guys. The horror came from the fact that had they been five minutes later, Troy probably would have had her breasts bared. And she would have let him. She’d desperately wanted his mouth on her, his tongue teasing the sensitive nubs.
She should have been stronger, should have made him back off.
But she’d wanted him. More of his kisses, more of his touches, more of him .
Where he was concerned, she wasn’t strong at all.
She shouldn’t want everything his hands and mouth offered.
Yet she couldn’t stop herself from needing it badly.
God, she was weak.
The tallest of the young men said, “Hope you don’t mind if we join you?”
Her cheeks flamed like she was roasting on a spit.
Expecting a growl from Troy, he surprised her by waving a hand at one of the other picnic tables. “Have a seat. How’s your hike going?”
Michaela wanted to scream one word. Nooooo!
Too late. They were already sitting. “It’s going great,” the tall blond said. None of them were about to admit they were breathing hard.
Troy started on the second half of his sandwich, questioning the young men between bites.
It was all she could do not to melt into a puddle of mortification on the picnic bench.
Troy was deft at eliciting answers. This would be how he was with the young people he inspired during his talks—showing interest, putting them at ease.
These guys hailed from all different parts of the country and were now undergrads at Stanford University.
Troy’s smile seemed as bright as the sun overhead. “Stanford. My lovely friend’s alma mater.” He extended a hand toward Michaela.
Thankfully, her mouth was full, and all she had to do was wave.
Naturally, Troy introduced them. “Michaela Killian, and I’m Troy Harrington.”
She expected them all to stare at Troy, the Olympic gold medalist. But instead, the young men were gaping at her .
The tall blond said, “ The Michaela Killian? Economics?” Seemingly overcome with excitement, the young man didn’t even introduce himself. None of the boys did.
And Michaela grew flustered. How could he know that? But she politely said, “Yes. A long time ago, though. Ten years.”
A slightly shorter, dark-haired one said, “Michaela Killian. You’re a freaking legend.”
She blushed despite herself. “Why would you say that?”
She felt Troy’s eyes on her, that lady-killer smile of his beaming at her as if he was pleased she was now the center of attention. Confused, all she could say was, “I’m not sure what you mean.”
The dark-haired boy elbowed his blond friend, then pointed at Michaela. “You’re on the wall for academic achievement. Don’t you know that?”
She knew, but it wasn’t something she trotted out willy-nilly. “I’m surprised you even noticed.”
A shorter, skinnier version of the blond young man, maybe a brother, said, “And not just that. You’re legendary for being instrumental in getting the two cofounders of FoodFast together. Without you, we wouldn’t have FoodFast at all.”
“They even taught that in our class, about how to take advantage of a niche no one is filling,” the dark-haired one added.
Fired with a full-body flush, she couldn’t help turning self-deprecating. “Gloria and Ivan would’ve figured it out on their own. I just gave them a push.”
Beside her, Troy snorted. “She’s the billionaire matchmaker. With countless successful ventures under her belt.”
She wanted to pummel him. Because they weren’t countless .
After swallowing the last bite of her sandwich, she said politely, “Thank you for noticing I was on the wall.” Then she stood to gather their trash.
There were no trash cans, so she packed it all into her backpack.
“Well, good luck to all of you. Stanford is a great school. Enjoy the rest of your hike.”
Grabbing the empty beer bottles, she turned them upside down to let the dregs drip out, then stuffed them into her pack too. As she shouldered it, Troy got to his feet, smiling devilishly as he did the same.
She gave a little finger wave as they headed down the path.
Behind her, Troy chuckled, and when they were out of sight and earshot, she turned on him. “The billionaire matchmaker? Countless ventures under my belt?”
He grinned at her. “You’re a freaking legend, Ms. Killian.”
She blushed all over again, closing her eyes to the delicious sight of him, of those lips that had kissed her and teased her.
Suddenly, he turned serious. “You’re on the wall of academic achievement. You are a freaking legend.” He cocked his head and studied her for a long moment. “Why aren’t you proud of that?”
She stuttered, “I… I… am. You’ve seen my diploma in my office. It says I graduated with distinction. So I’m advertising it.”
He slowly shook his head. “No one would even see that unless they walked right up and read it.”
She turned then and charged on. She couldn’t argue with him; the man always had an answer.
But she would never forget those kisses. Never forget the feel of his hands on her. Never.
Yet she could never let it happen again.
No matter how much she wanted it.
She was gorgeous, even when she was racing away from him. He could still smell the sweetness of her lotion, still taste the slight sheen of perspiration on her skin—a potent combination.
Her scent floated back to him as he followed her. As she drove him damned near crazy with the sway of her hips and those tiny shorts, with the smoothness of her shoulders, the muscles of her arms as she pumped her way up the hill, her calves flexing.
He’d never wanted a woman more. He’d never wanted a kiss to go on and on. Five minutes later in that grove, he would have had her top down and the delectable rosy tip of her breast in his mouth.
Maybe it was a good thing the guys had come along when they had. Because that was not how he wanted her, with four college-age young men interrupting them and ogling those beautiful breasts.
But he’d definitely been about to lose control.
That was a first for him. He liked to be in control of his lovemaking. That way, there were no surprises.
But everything about Michaela Killian was a surprise. On Stanford’s wall for academic achievement. A freaking legend whose exploits were taught in economics classes. There was so much more about her to admire than he’d ever thought.
As they headed back along the loop and the terrain suggested they were getting close to the parking lot, he took a gamble.
“You know, I’d like you to come to one of the talks I’m giving.
” A week ago, he’d worried about her judging him.
Now, he wanted her beside him. “I don’t know if you remember when we were at Gareth’s art show that Gideon asked me to give a talk to some foster kids he mentors who are aging out of the system. ”
Her ponytail bobbed as she nodded. “I remember.”
“I’m meeting with those kids on Wednesday at six thirty. It’ll be informal. I’d like you to be there. I think you’d be a great inspiration to them.”
In her surprise, she almost lost her footing. “Really?”
“Yes.” If she knew he was asking her out on another date, she’d say no. But if she thought it was because she’d be an inspiration to those kids—and she truly would be, he meant that wholeheartedly—then she couldn’t refuse.
But no mistake about it: Dinner after the book signing had been a date. The cruise was a date. And this hike. If she agreed to go to his talk, that would be a date too.
Every time he was with her, it was a date. A glorious date.
She was blushing again, and he suspected she was flattered. “Well, that would be nice. But you’re the real inspiration.”
She was so modest. Maybe she didn’t even know what an inspiration she truly was.
He was about to say, Then it’s a date , but at the last moment, he decided not to push his luck. “Great. I’ll pick you up.”
“Get me at the office, okay? I probably won’t have time to go home.”
“All right.” He’d rather pick her up at her house, but he’d take what he could get.
And he would taste her again. Because he craved the feel of her in his arms, craved the taste of her. He also didn’t buy her reasoning that she’d brought all his favorite things for lunch only to repay him.
She’d done it because she liked him. Even if she wouldn’t admit it.
And she wanted him too. Her kiss had told him everything.
He would show her how much better it could get.