Wounded Birds (The Grayson Series Book 1) (32 page)

Chapter 30

The Heat Is Rising

It’s Saturday morning, and we arrived at my apartment a half hour ago from the hospital. I’m invigorated after my shower, energized, overjoyed with life. I’m free to come and go as I please, without having to worry about Alden, the psychotic stalker and undeniably, in love with Michael.

I want to jump up and down with bliss. I eye my bed with a mischievous, playful grin and plunge onto it, jumping up and down. I wince from the painful sting on my leg and arm, and yet I’m bursting with excitement. My arms and legs are flailing in the air, my hair bouncing. I’m exhilarated and tingling with wild enthusiasm. I want to shout to the world, “I’m in love!”

“
Ariana
,
what the hell do you think you’re doing
?” Michael explodes, standing against the doorframe to my bedroom, his arms across his thick, expanding, chest with a traumatizing expression over his face.

I’m in midair and then land on my butt hard, bouncing lightly a few more times until I still. I glare at him, tongue-tied, and my joy deflates into a flat balloon.

He strides quickly to my side; he leans his legs against the bed and takes an exasperated breath. “I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, his eyes close, and his eyebrows crinkle as if he’s deep in thought. He opens them, and they’re liquid.

My heart breaks in two, appreciating how much he cares for me.

“I didn’t mean to lose my temper, but what in God’s name were you doing, Ariana? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” His eyes are narrow with an alarmed look.

“Michael, what’s wrong?”

“You just got home from the hospital. You have two stitches in your arm, a leg with a grazed bullet wound, and your body is still coming down from the sedatives they’ve been feeding you.” He blows out a frustrated breath.

“I’m worried you’ll overexert yourself or tear your stitches open, and to be honest, I don’t do well with blood, especially yours, sweetheart.” He stands, perched over me, with his hands on his hips and his eyes filled with anxiety.

I blink several times, and I’m at a loss for words. I smile, sensing the energy ignite around us. I love this man. This arrogant, overbearing, and compassionate man is all mine. He wears many hats for such a complicated man. “I love you, Michael,” I whisper, pulling him into a kiss.

I feel the heat rising between our bodies, our hearts beating faster. I gasp in surprise. He steps away, leaving my lips chilled and abandoned, but our breathing matches and his eyes growing darker. Why did he stop? I want him. I need him. I tremble and cry out. “Please,” I beg.

“Sweetheart, if you weren’t recently released from the hospital, I’d have my way with you, but you were. You need time to heal, and I’m afraid I may tear your stitches open if I lose control, and trust me, I
will
lose control.”

“Are you kidding me? How much do I have to prove to you that I’m fine?” I wave my hands in the air, frustrated that I have to defend myself to him.

“Please, one more day,” he says and walks out of the room.

I gasp. I can’t believe he left, leaving me alone as I ache for his touch, his lips, and love. My blood begins to boil. Who gave him carte blanche to set all the rules? That no-good, arrogant son of a bitch. I jump off the bed and sprint out of my bedroom in search of my Neanderthal.

I find him standing several feet from the terrace doors, staring out into the city. I lick my lips. The wildcat in me awakens, ready to attack her prey. I make my move and leap onto his back.

“Jesus, Ariana. What the hell . . . ” he calls out, surprised. His back tensed and his arms immediately reach behind him to grasp my legs.

“I want you, Michael,” I purr into his ear as I ease my way down. I spin him, grab hold of his neck, and pull him so close I can feel his warm breath caressing my face. I capture his mouth in mine, and I sense his hesitation. He tries to push me away, but I stubbornly cling on to him like a monkey. He mutters something through his lips and finally folds like a house of cards. He carefully slings me over his shoulder like a barbarian, rushing into the bedroom. He lays me onto the bed with a desperate need, want, and hunger. He hovers over me, eyes glowing with desire.

“Is this how you want to play, sweetheart?” He rasps out with a savage expression.

“Yes,” I say, licking my lips, sounding breathless, and with speed I remove my shirt and pants, leaving only my navy blue lace bra and panties on.

Michael’s breathing becomes erratic. I gaze over his beautiful physique, calling me, teasing me, waiting with anticipation to fill me with his love.

“Ariana, you always seem to bring the creature out in me,” he growls out, tearing his clothes off with extreme haste, and sheathes himself with a condom. “You’re beautiful.” He stares at me with an avaricious look.

“You’re a magnificent work of art,” I say, feeling electrified.

He crawls across the bed like a panther, and I back away playfully. He moves closer, and I shift farther away. “Sweetheart, are we playing cat and mouse?” He grins with a devilish smile, his green eyes narrowing as a cat on the prowl.

I nod innocently, biting my lower lip with a devious look. He leaps at me. I jump, scurrying off the bed, and run out of the bedroom giggling. He follows like an obedient cat. I know he’ll catch me. I want him to, but not before I get his adrenaline pumping.

“Oh, Ariana, you’re being mischievous,” he growls out, rushing after me. I shriek when he wraps his hands around my waist in one of the spare bedrooms. He spins me to face him. “You’re all mine, little mouse.” He picks me up and gingerly places me on the bed.

He leans in, his eyes darker then before. I sink deeper into the mattress like sand through an hourglass. He pulls me into his warm flesh. My heart begins to race harder. I moan against his mouth as he kisses me tenderly, fisting my hands into his thick black hair. He unsnaps my lace bra and eases the straps over my shoulders causing my skin to prickle just from his touch. I jerk from the feel of his hands over my breast as he caresses them, and I let out a loud gasp when he lowers his head and pulls one of my sensitive nipples into his mouth, making me wither beneath him and arch my chest against him. God, I need him now.

“Please, Michael,” I plead.

“In due time, love, I want to savor every moment,” he murmurs. His thumb and forefinger rub the tip of my right nipple making it hard and tingly. Moisture begins to pool between my thighs, aching to be touched. He stops and skims his fingers down to my abdomen and cups my sex giving it a gentle massage, and I take in a sharp breath ready to explode. He slips my panties to the side and inserts one long finger, making me jump at the stimulation and my heart pumping wild.

“You’re so damn hot and wet.” I gasp as he rips off my panties, and inserts two long fingers, drawing them in and out, in and out as his thumb rubs up against my clit building the raw tension even higher with every movement. My body begins to tremble, ready to tumble over. I can’t take the anticipation any longer. I’m falling over the edge ready to descend. His magical fingers continue to penetrate within the walls of my sex, teasing and massaging my clit to the point that every nerve ending in my body is sizzling, and my eyes are rolling in the back of my head.

“Please, Michael,” I beg.

“Ariana, God, you’re beautiful,” he hisses out, letting out a predator’s growl. His teeth gently graze over my shoulder, causing prickly sensations to ripple throughout my body. He draws his fingers out with ease. He kneels over me, and I gasp by his size as he fills me, increasing the friction between us, making me drunk on love, needing more of him.

“Deeper, faster, Michael, please,” I yell out, pleading to him as I dig my nails into his back, his muscles bulging beneath my hands. He hears the desperate cry in my voice, and he increases his speed, his breathing erratic, pushing hard-and-fast, again and again, over and over that has me clinging over the brim.

He plunges his tongue between my lips kissing me like a hungry savage. His hand has a firm grip on my hair, pulling it gently, which I find to be erotically hot and stimulating. He slows down then picks up his pace and the pleasure begins to build up like a volcano ready to erupt.

I gasp and burst out, “Michael!” My head begins to spin; my eyes are squeezed shut, as the wave of my orgasm surfaces through every part of my body.

He stills. “Did I hurt you?” He whispers through harsh breaths.

My eyes snap open, and I shake my head. “No, please, don’t stop,” I growl out with panting breaths.

A huge grin fabricates across his face; he wraps one hand around my head and the other around my waist. He grunts against my ear and begins to rock into me over and over, building the raw, erotic sensation throughout every cell in my body.

Exotic vibrations begin to rip through me, tearing apart my soul from its physical being. I fall apart when I hear his sweet moans against my ear. I wrap my legs around his muscular back and lift my hips to his, moving in the same rhythm. Our souls begin to merge, hearts pounding as one gasping for breath.

He slows his pace down in a teasing way, and I can’t let him do that to me, not when I’m so close to bursting into a million pieces, so I bite his shoulder, hard.

“Ariana,” he cries out and penetrates deep within my walls, fast and furious. He bites into my neck and sucks my flesh, making it impossible to breathe.

“Michael,” I gasp out from the sting of the painful bite against my neck, and for some unknown reason, I find it to be stimulating, and I want him to do it again.

He continues to plunge deep, and he moves his hand down to my sex and his fingers begin to circle and massage my clit to the point I can’t breathe.

“Mine, Ariana,” he says hoarsely. “This,” he says, grabbing my sex and rubbing the pad of his thumb wildly around my clit, which has me gasping for every breath. “Is mine.”

“Yes,” I pant out, and I shatter into a million pieces seeing the brilliant colorful lights burst beneath my lids. I tighten my hold around Michael, letting the violent waves of my orgasm ride within the swells of the roaring sea, feeling the tingling sensations throughout my body.

Michael cries out with a loud grunt of satisfaction breathlessly in my ear. He cocoons me tight against his heated flesh, feeling his final shudders as he pulsates inside of me with harsh breaths. He lifts his head, and his eyes are still burning with hunger.

“That . . . was incredible, sweetheart,” he whispers, sucking and nibbling my neck, making me into a quivering mess.

I squeeze him tight against my body, absorbing his heat. “It was beautiful . . . God, Michael, I love you so much,” I blow out, still catching my breath.

“Ariana, I love you too, so damn much, more than my life. You. You replaced the emptiness in my heart.” He kisses me long and hard and pulls back. “How’s you’re arm and leg?

“Throbbing, but that faded away when we made love.”

He cursed and looked at me. “I should never have . . .” before he could finish I placed my finger over his lips.

“Stop beating yourself up. I wanted this and I needed you, and it was the best medicine any doctor could prescribe,” I say and kiss his soft, tender lips.

“Fair enough. Another question, if you don’t mind answering. Did I hurt you when I bit you?” He asks with an impish smile.

“No, I rather enjoyed it,” I confess.

He pushes my hair away to examine the damage. “It’s not too bad. Just don’t wear your hair up anytime soon.” He grins like boy who was just caught in the cookie jar.

“I won’t,” I say and cuddle up against his heated flesh and drift off into a blissful sleep.

***

I wake up to Michael’s warm breath against my face, his hand feathering tender strokes over my bandaged arm. “I love you,” he whispers into my ear.

He kisses me, first on the lips then on the nose and sneaks a nip of my cheek, which has me screeching. “Come, we need to get out of bed before I attack you again. I have several meetings to prepare for in the next few days and plenty of work to catch up on.”

I nod and rush off to the bathroom, only to find Michael right behind me. Needless to say, we get lost in the moment and missed breakfast.

I turn the stereo on, and Michael and I sit near the terrace having our lunch. I smile as I watch a couple riding in a horse and carriage; all snuggled up under a warm blanket, indulging on a hot drink and kissing each other. How romantic, it’s a picture-perfect postcard. I start when Michael asks me a question.

“What was that, Michael?” I ask.

“Thanksgiving is this Thursday. My dad invited us to come out, especially you,” Michael announces, and his hair is still wet and in disarray from the shower we shared earlier.

“Me? Why me?” I inquire with curiosity.

“He wants to meet the woman who finally lassoed me into her heart. His words not mine.” He chuckles.

“I did no such thing. That was your own doing, you and your bossy, bulldozing self,” I say playfully.

He laughs. “So, would you be interested in flying out to Houston for Thanksgiving?” He taps his fingers over the table, his lips pressed together, waiting patiently for my answer.