There's Only Been You (18 page)

He uncapped the bottle of apple juice and handed it to Ethan, then stuffed a slice of lime into the neck of each bottle of Corona. He walked over and handed her one before clinking his own against hers. “To fate. And new beginnings."

He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a gleam in her eye as she tilted the bottle back to her lips.

By the time the credits were rolling, Ethan's soft snores filled the room. Mike leaned forward to peer at him, the love shining in his eyes nearly bringing Sara to her knees. How could she have ever thought this man would be anything less than a wonderful, loving father?

"If you don't mind, I'd like to carry him in to bed. I know it sounds silly, but I've never got to do it before."

Sara's heart swelled even more. “It's not silly. I used to love carrying him to bed. Now he's just too darn big for me to pick up."

Mike rose to his feet and came around to the foot of the bed. He scooped Ethan into his arms and cradled him against his chest, his eyes glued to their son's face. Sara walked ahead of him into the adjoining room.

She rubbed her arms and wondered aloud, “Is it me, or is it chilly in here?"

Mike laid Ethan on the bed and pulled the blanket up to his shoulders. “I've felt a little warm all night."

Her hands stilled and she met his gaze. “Maybe you have a fever."

Mike's eyes gleamed with an emotion they'd both been trying to keep in check all day.

Desire.

He broke the spell when he bent down to press a kiss to Ethan's forehead. “That's the first time I've ever kissed him."

"Yeah, they're a little easier to lay on him when he's dead to the world,” she teased.

But Mike's mood had altered startlingly fast. He looked angry. Intense.

"I should've been here to kiss him every night since the day he was born. But I was off feeling sorry for myself.” He looked up, and Sara nearly flinched from the pain reflected in his eyes. “Maybe I'm like my old man after all."

"How could you even think such a thing? My God, your father was a monster.
You
were a victim of someone else's hatred and jealousy. There's no comparison."

He looked back down at their sleeping son and seemed to shake off whatever funk had invaded his thoughts. He straightened and said, his voice compellingly gentle, “I was hoping we could talk. There are so many things I need to say to you. And I have questions. I ... hell, I don't even know his birthday, or anything about the day he was born."

"His birthday is December twenty-first. He was a month early and weighed seven pounds, ten ounces.” She grinned. “They told me he would've been a nine-pound baby if he'd been full-term."

"Ouch."

Sara laughed softly. “Believe me, seven pounds, ten ounces was plenty ‘ouch’ enough."

Mike gazed at her for a moment, then held out his hand. Sara took it and followed him into the other room, closing the door behind her.

He sat on the edge of the bed, and guided her until she was sitting beside him. He reached for her other hand and said nothing for a moment, just stared down at their clasped hands.

Finally, he looked up and met her gaze. “You know how I feel about you, Sara. I've never stopped loving you. Wanting you. And I realize giving me a second chance would be one of the hardest things you've ever had to do. But if you feel even half of what I do, we can make it work. I know we can."

"Mike, I—"

"Please, just let me get it all out before you shoot me down,” he said, bringing both of her hands up for a kiss. “You know this isn't only about Ethan, though I won't deny I want my son living under my own roof."

"Our son,” she corrected.

"Our son,” he repeated. “But what I want just as much is for your beautiful face to be the first thing I see every morning for the rest of my life. And what I want more than anything right now is to make love to you.” His voice became husky. “I want you, sweetheart. Please say you want me, too."

They gazed at each other for what seemed like forever.

Sara was torn. She wanted him. Ached for him. Knew she still loved him, even after all these years. But she wasn't ready to make any promises about the future. She didn't know if she'd ever be able to trust him again. And how could they build a relationship without trust?

But for tonight, she couldn't deny herself—she wouldn't.

"I want you, too."

Mike reached up to cup her face, pulling her close for the kiss she'd been dreaming about all week.

With a soft cry of longing, she opened for him. Her hands stole around his neck as his arms wrapped around her waist, crushing her against him. Their kiss was searing—hot. Their mouths and tongues meshed while their hands and arms reacquainted themselves with each other.

Mike leaned back onto the bed, pulling her on top of him. His hands caressed her shoulders, her rib cage. He kneaded the soft flesh of her lower back, pressing her against his erection.

Sara rocked her hips, dragging another groan from him.

"Evil woman,” he growled, playfully nipping at her lips.

She pulled back and gazed down at him, her eyelids growing heavy with desire. “Maybe you deserve to be tortured a bit.” She shimmied back until she was straddling his hips, his huge shaft like an iron bar between them.

He let out a shaky breath. “Can't argue with that."

Sara stroked her hands down his muscled chest until she reached the hem of his shirt. She slipped her hands inside and flattened her palms against his hot flesh—he quivered in response. She glanced at him through her lashes, taken aback by the hungry, intense look in his eyes.

"Take off your shirt,” she said, feeling rather uninhibited thanks to the beer she'd consumed, and watched as he peeled it off in record time.

Like magnets, her hands were drawn back to his chest. She leaned down and pressed her lips to the hollow of his throat. The arousing masculine scent of his warm flesh combined with just the faintest hint of musky aftershave was like an aphrodisiac; Sara's skin tingled.

Mike reached up to run his fingers through her hair, tangling them in the long, silken strands. Another growl rumbled in his throat as she moved her lips slowly down the middle of his chest, using her tongue to trace a fiery path across his abdomen. She shimmied backwards, ending her exquisite torture at the button of his jeans.

"Christ.” Mike caught her around the waist and flipped her onto her back. “Sorry, sweetheart, but with you in charge I'd have five seconds, tops."

His deep husky voice was like a cool breeze over wet nipples, and Sara shivered in response. Then he was on top of her again, kissing her breathless.

Mike trailed his lips down the curve of her neck, his right hand coming up to cup her breast. His fingers caressed gently, finding her nipple through the fabric and squeezing ever so softly.

Sara moaned, her head turning into the pillow as she arched against his hand. It'd been so long since she'd felt his touch, and she silently cursed the fact they still had so many clothes between them.

As if reading her mind, Mike's hand slid down to her knee, then slowly inched its way up to where the hem of her dress bunched up around her thighs. He slipped beneath the gauzy fabric, continuing his path with slow precision. When his hand reached her hip, he pulled back and gazed down at her.

"You're not wearing any panties,” he needlessly pointed out, his voice thick.

Sara's eyes were heavy-lidded with desire. She gazed up at him and shook her head.

He gave her hip a gentle squeeze. “You were planning on seducing me?"

She bit her lip and nodded, caressing little circles on his back with her index finger.

"As if there was any doubt I wanted you."

"Mike?"

"Yeah?” He gently squeezed the back of her thigh.

"I don't remember you being this chatty before."

She felt a rumbling in his chest, then he leaned back down until his lips were barely an inch from her own. “Don't worry, sweetheart, I'm done talking."

He rolled backwards and sat up, pulling her with him. He lifted her and grasped the hem of her dress with both hands. Meeting his gaze, she lifted her arms. In one fluid motion, he pulled the dress up and over her head.

Sara had been feeling extremely self-confident up until now. But straddling his lap, completely naked, she suddenly felt vulnerable and unsure. It'd been so long since they'd made love—since he'd seen her body. She was eight years older, had given birth to their son. Would he still find her as attractive as he used to?

"You're even more beautiful than I remembered,” he said, as if reading her mind. He reached up and cupped the back of her head, caressing her cheek with his thumb while his other hand massaged the gentle curve of her back. “I've never wanted a woman more."

Sara closed her eyes and turned her face into his caress. “Mike,” she whispered, silently cursing the tears that threatened to spill. He would, of course, think something was wrong, when in fact nothing had ever felt more right. She loved this man. Always had—no doubt always would. “I want you, too. Please, I can't wait another second."

Mike took her mouth in a near savage kiss and once again turned her onto her back. He peeled off his sweats and boxer briefs in one smooth motion, tossing them onto the floor.

As their lips and tongues mated, she worked her hand between them, curled her fingers around his erection and squeezed gently.

Mike rocked back. “Slow down, honey, or I'll never make it inside you."

Sara smiled, loving the feel of power that gave her. She ensnared him in her grasp again, moving her hand slowly, as he'd asked, stroking him up, circling the head with the pad of her thumb.

"Christ,” he muttered, gathering both her wrists in one hand and pulling them up over her head. With his other hand, he traced a fiery path down her stomach, through the triangle of soft red curls. His middle finger sought and found her clitoris—which was already wet and swollen—and stroked softly. He leaned in and sucked one of her nipples into his mouth.

She cried out, her back arching.

"Calm down, honey. Relax,” he whispered.

"I want you inside me, Mike. Now.
Please
."

He slowly worked his finger into her slick passage. She cried out again, convulsing around him, her hips moving in desperate rhythm.

"My God, sweetheart, I didn't know you were so close,” he rasped against her neck. He withdrew his finger, positioned himself over her and slid inside. The contractions of her orgasm were enough to put Mike right over the edge. He pumped himself into her several times before joining her on the other side, his shout of satisfaction muffled against her throat.

The rhythmic cadence of their hips slowed and then stopped. Mike lay on top of her, his breathing heavy and ragged.

Sara's eyes were closed, her arms clutched around his rib cage, her nails digging into the flesh of his back. She was breathing just as heavily as Mike. Unclenching her hands, she realized she'd left marks. Her fingertips smoothed over the indentations her nails had left, and a mewl of distress escaped her.

"Don't worry, they'll go away,” he said against her throat.

"I'm sorry. Does it hurt?” She tried to soothe the pain away with her fingertips.

"Not even a little bit."

"Good."

He lifted his head and gazed down at her. She smiled and pulled her knees up so that he was cradled between her thighs.

Mike immediately grew hard again inside her.

Satisfied, Sara pulled his head down for a kiss as her hips lifted against him, urging him to move.

Mike broke his mouth away to gaze down at her.

"What's wrong?” she whispered.

"I want you to admit you love me, Sara. I want to hear the words."

Half amused, half frustrated she said, “Isn't it usually the woman asking for declarations of love after sex?"

"Is that all it was to you? Sex?"

"Okay, now you're starting to worry me. What's the matter with you? I thought things were going,” she gestured to the fact they were in bed together, “pretty good between us."

He sighed and rested his forehead against hers. “They are. I've never been happier. My son is safe and sound in the other room. And his mother, the woman I love, is lying naked beneath me."

She reached up with both hands to cup the back of his head as her calves wrapped around the backs of his thighs. Then she pulled his head down and kissed him soundly.

With his elbows braced on either side of her, Mike started moving his hips, slowly stroking in and out. Sara moved her hips in rhythm with his and dug her heels into his backside.

Mike tore his mouth from hers and leaned back, his thrusts becoming harder and faster. Sara's hands were all over him, clutching at his back, his arms, his ass. She could feel the tension building and the sweet relief of another orgasm within her grasp.

"Mike, oh my God, Mike...” With a soft cry, she buried her face in the crook of his neck.
I love you. I love you so much.

Sara bit gently into his neck and it was like a white-hot flame on dry kindling. His thrusts became frenzied. He covered her mouth with his own to swallow their cries of release as he pumped his seed into her.

Once the tremors subsided and their breathing returned to normal, Sara snuggled against him—safe and warm within the circle of his arms—and promptly fell asleep.

Ethan woke from a bad dream and sat straight up in bed. A thin sliver of moonlight washed across the wall, and it took only a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the dark and for his memory to return. He wasn't in his bed at home. He was at a hotel with his mom and dad.

He searched the bed, surprised to find himself alone.
Mom must be in the bathroom
, he thought. Scooting to the edge of the bed, he swung his legs over the side and slid to the floor. He crept to the bathroom and slowly opened the door, but got scared when he realized she wasn't in there. Then a thought struck him and he breathed a sigh of relief. She must be with his dad.

He started toward his father's room, but stopped when he realized he forgot to show his dad his collection of Yu-Gi-Oh! cards. He padded over to the desk chair where his backpack hung, dug out his binder and headed back toward the connecting door.