Risking Trust (17 page)

That made him laugh. “Speaking of Vic, I’m sorry about the darlin’ thing this morning. He gets a little carried away. I talked to him and it won’t happen again.”

After checking on dinner she slid into the seat across from him. “He doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“It’s inappropriate.”

“It wasn’t a big deal. He and I are pals. He’s been a huge help with the security at the paper.”

Pals. They were
pals
. What did
that
mean? “He’s a good guy.”

I’m going to break his fucking face, but he’s a good guy
. He watched her pick up a cube of cheese and pop it in her mouth. Her jaw worked as she chewed and when she licked her lips…uh-oh, wrong thought pattern. He shifted in his seat.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “You seem…uncomfortable.”

Uncomfortable. Right. He wanted to tear her clothes off and get rid of the bulge in his pants, but otherwise, he was good.

He couldn’t do this.

He couldn’t sit here and pretend this was a casual first date. Not with their history.

“I’m not okay.”

Her eyebrows came together. “What is it?”

“It’s just…a guy thing…I guess. I can’t concentrate.”

She pondered him.
Yes, every one of my brain cells has died and might spill onto your tiled floor.

“I don’t understand.”

He forced out a breath. Rubbed his hand over his eyes. His mouth was drier than Arizona.
Take it easy, Taylor, just talk to her.
“The grown up, responsible part of me is saying I should take this slow, this thing with you and me. After all these years, we’re finally, well, not together, but at least talking and I don’t want to blow that, but every inch of me wants to forget slow. And after what happened here in your office the other day…” He stopped.
Don’t get nuts here.
“We’re beyond slow, don’t you think? How do we start over? We can’t. And the truth is I want to have sex with you.” He held up two hands before she hammered away at him. “Romantic, I know. But think about it. I could tell you how beautiful and smart you are. How much I respect you as a businesswoman, but you probably hear that all the time from guys trying to get laid. I guess, in a way, I’m one of those guys. Hell, I like getting laid.” He laughed and shook his head. “But
I
know what moves you, Rox.”

She raised her chin an inch and her quirking lips couldn’t hide the smile. “Do tell.”

Rolling now
. Michael sat forward. “You don’t need compliments. You need to experience them. You’re working in a male dominated industry and you’re ordering those males around all day. When work is done, you don’t want to be in charge. You don’t want a guy you can beat up or that’s threatened by you. You want a guy that’ll listen, but not try to fix everything because you’re capable of fixing it yourself. You want to be treated like a woman, but not feel patronized.”

Now she gave him a full on smile.
Jackpot.
“And I suppose you’re the guy that can do that for me?”

“Of course, I am. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be bothering with this little speech.”

Silence. Nothing. Nada. Suddenly, the limited confidence he’d felt a few seconds earlier went right out the window.
Right
out the window.

Might as well keep talking. “So, here we are. We got the wine and the dinner. I know what I’d normally do, and—I’m not being cocky here, just honest—we’d probably wind up in the sack, but this is not normal. Way not normal.”

He shut up and waited for her to say something. Then she did it. She bit down on the edge of her lip and it destroyed him because it was the look she used to give him when she wanted some smoking-hot sex. Lots of it. The buried beast inside had dug himself up and Michael wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. “That’s what I’m talking about, that biting your lip thing. Don’t do that. It makes me want to…just…please, don’t do anything with your lips.”

What the hell was wrong with him? Had he never seduced a woman before? Or maybe it was that he’d never
not
seduced a woman.

“Nothing with my lips huh?”

“I’m serious.”

Before he had a minute to think, she bolted out of her chair, hauled him up by his shirt and kissed him. With plenty of tongue.

His body coiled into knotted steel and he balled his fingers to keep his hands from wandering. Hadn’t he been clear about her not doing anything with her lips? This definitely included use of the lips. Big league unfair. This is what trying to be a nice guy got him. She was taking advantage. Not that he’d complain. What was to complain about? He’d wanted this for a long time and it would be so-oh-oh easy to give in. He reminded himself they were taking it slow. He backed up.

“This is a problem because I’m not going to slow this down. Are we clear on what’s happening?”

There was a moment of hesitation but then she gave him that wicked half smile from the other day in her office and he lost his fucking mind.

“Are we clear?” he asked.
Please let it be clear.

Roxann leaned forward until they were nose to nose. “I’ll race you upstairs.”

He chased her upstairs and Roxann’s body tingled because finally, finally, finally the in-control Roxann was going to let herself go, just unload and have some amazing, mind-melting, body paralyzing sex.
Don’t think, don’t think
. Over analyzing it would totally kill the mood. So what if Michael equaled skipping through an emotional hurricane?

She stopped short in front of her bedroom, every muscle tensing from the horror flooding her. He plowed into the back of her, nearly knocking her over.

She hadn’t changed the sheets. Her last defense. “We can’t.”

Michael laced his hands in front of his face, squeezing so tight his knuckles swelled. “Please don’t do this to me.”

“Wait.” She turned toward the guest room. “In here. These sheets are clean.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind,” she shrieked and yanked off her sweater before she even got to the bed. “Get naked, dammit!”

She cracked up at herself because, for the love of any dignity, what was she doing? Michael grunted, spun her around and kissed her while trying to kick out of his pants.
Wow.
He could kiss. All soft and warm and wet.

“Wait. The oven.”

“Fuck the oven. I’ll buy you a new one.”

She had to laugh. “Not
the
oven. The food
in
the oven.”

“I’ll order something.”

She pushed his shirt up and he tossed it away as she toed off her shoes. In an explosion of moving arms and kicking legs he unbuttoned her jeans and shoved them off of her. His big hands skimmed down her legs and the air in her lungs disappeared. Gone.
Breathe
. She wanted this. So badly.

They should slow down.
Too fast, too fast.
This wasn’t what she’d imagined. Her dreams of making love to him were always torturously slow. Never this frenzied rush. She should slow him down. Their first time together again should be what she’d wished for, cherishing every second.

But then he pushed her back on the bed and suddenly slow didn’t seem so important. She sucked in a breath because what she wanted was fast and primal and hot. All the things she hadn’t had in so long because in-control Roxann had become boring—B.O.R.I.N.G.—and never allowed herself the freedom.

“Bang,” he said. “You’re head just exploded again. Stop thinking.”

He stood at the foot of the bed, naked and fully aroused—
oh, baby, come to mama
—yet waiting, making sure she knew they could stop the whole thing.

She let her gaze travel over his long frame, his solid chest and shoulders until she got to his face, where their eyes met and held. Decision time brought a hissing in her ears.

“Forget slow,” she said. “There’s time.”

She hoped.

He moved over her. “You’re sure?”

What
was his problem? Didn’t she just say it was okay? “Shut up already and screw me.”

Within seconds, he moved inside her and her breath caught.
Yes
. The feel of his body against hers, so familiar and yet so new, the way his hair glided under her hands, became something that twelve years couldn’t take away. After the military his body had been lean with wired muscles. He was heavier now, different than what had been embedded—sealed—in her mind. Age had filled him out and this solid Michael offered so much more to enjoy. And that was trouble.

Right now trouble seemed pretty darn good.

Michael shifted and she moaned.

“Someone’s happy,” he whispered.

“Please.” And suddenly her pride vanished. She knew what she wanted.

He slowed his pace and her system fired.
Not yet, not yet, not yet.
She slammed her eyes shut. It felt too good to end, but a wild rumbling in her core drowned out all thought.
Not yet. Please
.

Then he kissed her, their lips coming together so gently that all sound drifted away and she allowed herself these moments of having this man back, loving him after all the years.

It can’t be a mistake. Not when it’s this good.

He stopped moving, pulled back from the kiss and propped himself on his elbows. He looked into her eyes while their bodies remained pressed together, skin to skin.

“What?” she asked.

“I don’t want it to stop. Is that nuts?”

He felt it. That wanting to explore each other. To linger in the moment. She trailed her fingers through his hair. “But we have all night.”

He shot off one of his all-teeth smiles. “Just what I wanted to hear.”

Minutes later, she knew for sure that nothing beat a Michael-inflicted orgasm. Nothing.

Roxann ran her hands over his trembling back, felt the light moisture from sweat and eased out a breath. Reluctantly, she peeled her legs from around him.

“Am I expected to move?” he asked, his voice muffled by the pillow he’d buried his face in.

“Only if you want to.”

He pushed himself up and smacked a kiss on her cheek. “You’re gonna have a long night.”

“I hope so.”

Snorting a laugh, he rolled off, slid an arm under her and pulled her to him. “How do you think it’s going so far?”

“Not bad for a first date.” With any luck, they’d improve with practice.

He waved his free hand toward the door. “Do I want to ask about the bedroom switch thing? What the hell was that?”

Roxann pressed her cheek into his chest and the warmth found there. “I didn’t change the sheets on my bed. I thought it would keep me from…well…doing what we just did.”

“Lucky for me you have a guest room.”

“With clean sheets.”

“Of course.”

She burrowed farther into him and hooked her leg around his. “I have to take that food out of the oven or it’ll be ruined.”

He rolled out of bed, slipped on his underwear. “I’ll do it. You stay here.”

No argument there. If that’s the way it was going to be, she could get used to having him around. “Bring the wine back with you. And the antipasto.”

He stuck his head back into the bedroom. “Anything else?”

She made a humming noise. “Nope. I’m
fairly
satisfied at the moment.”

“Oh, that is so wrong.”

He still laughed though.

With Michael’s absence came a feeling of being overexposed and she pulled the sheet up. Her hair clip had disappeared—where the heck did it go?—and she shoved her hair away from her face. She didn’t remember undoing the clip, but, then again, she’d been occupied.

At some point, her arms and legs turned into tree trunks that sank deeper into the bed and she closed her eyes for a moment. She needed rest. Maybe the orgasm had thrown her into this languid state, but whatever the reason for her exhaustion, she’d be a heck of a bad date if she fell asleep.

Michael entered the room carrying wine, two glasses and the antipasto. He placed the glasses on the side table and poured while she sat up. He glanced at the sheet covering her. “Shy all of a sudden?”

“A little, I guess.”

He tucked himself under the sheet with her. “You look like you need a nap,”

“A three day one. Don’t take it personally.”

He nodded and ran his hand through her hair. “You’re on a wild ride these days. You’re entitled.”

He held out the tray of food and she plucked a piece of cheese from it.

“That’s the problem. I never sleep anymore. I sleep for an hour, wake up for two, sleep for another hour and by then I’m so frustrated I give up.”

“I know that feeling.” He turned to her, wiggled his eyebrows. “You need to come up with other things to do in bed.”

She stuck her hand under the sheet and moved it along his hip. “Probably.”

He grabbed her hand before she got to her intended target. “You’re calling my bluff?”

“Gotcha.”

“Smart ass.”

Freeing her hand from his grasp, Roxann reached for the wine she’d placed on the side table.

“If I could get something to settle down at the office maybe I’d sleep a little, but I don’t think that’ll happen anytime soon. Max called today and told me they have nothing on the pressroom vandalism. They have no idea who tampered with the press. I also met with the pressmen and got nowhere. I’m out of patience. They destroy my pressroom and then they want more time off. As if I’m an idiot.”

“Are you sure it was them?”

She shot him a look. “Are you and my associate publisher comparing notes?”

“Nope.”

“I
was
sure it was them. Now I don’t know. I guess it could have been another employee. Or maybe a freak accident. Anyway, the pressmen will probably strike when their contract ends next week. Not that it matters since they’re on furlough, but I want to avoid a strike. They’re working on a counter offer, but we’re so far apart it’ll take a minor miracle to work out an agreement.”

“What then?”

She shrugged. “After the press is fixed, we might have to continue leasing press time from the
Chronicle.
I don’t know how we’ll stay afloat. Our numbers are down, other than the spike in single copy on the day we ran the Taylor story—” She stopped talking. Oh boy, did she really say the Taylor story? How completely insensitive. She glanced up at him. “Sorry. That’s what we call the story at the office.”