A Home of Her Own (Dundee, Idaho #4)(23)
Author: Brenda Novak

He was definitely in the bathroom.

“Mike?” she said, wishing her voice didn’t sound so thin.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

She hovered closer to the far corner of the tub, although she knew he couldn’t see her. It was so dark, neither of them could see anything. “I—I’ll be out in a minute if you’d like the shower.”

He didn’t answer.

“Are you still there?”

“Yes.”

She was relieved to realize he hadn’t moved from the door. “What is it you want?”

There was a long pause, but he finally responded. “You.”

Her…Lucky’s heart jumped into her throat. That was exactly what she’d suspected.

“Tell me now if you want me to leave,” he said.

The thick darkness, heavy with steam, made her feel slightly disoriented, slightly out of touch with her normal faculties. She had to be disoriented. She couldn’t say anything. She wasn’t even breathing.

“Silence means I stay,” he told her, as though wanting to be perfectly clear.

Her mind raced and she bit her lip. She had to speak now if she wanted to avoid a repeat of last night, but she could think of only one word. She wasn’t sure if that was because he’d just said it or because it was what she really wanted, but “stay” seemed to echo through her head. And then it was too late. She heard him pull the shower curtain aside and felt his hands move slowly around her waist.

He hadn’t been presumptuous enough to take off his clothes, she noticed, but his mouth found hers in the dark, and he kissed her gently. Like a young boy might kiss a girl on a first date. His second kiss was even better—like that kiss she’d observed in the barn. It was real. She was living it.

He didn’t say anything more after that, but his touch, even his kiss, asked a question: Will you let me try again, Lucky? Let me try again. Trust me one more time….

Lucky told herself she was crazy, but he’d melted her resistance by telling her he wanted her, and she could hardly think while he was pulling her bottom lip into his mouth. A warm sensation swept through her as his tongue met hers. Her first taste of him almost made her knees buckle. She felt hot, languid and fluttery all at once.

He didn’t seem to care that he was getting soaked. He kissed her more deeply, and she swayed against him, slowly letting go of last night, of everything that had happened before this moment—until he started sliding his hand up and over her rib cage. Then she stopped him.

“I won’t hurt you,” he whispered above the hiss of the water. “Relax.”

“I don’t think we should—”

“Shh,” he interrupted. “I’ll take good care of you this time, Lucky, I promise.”

In the dark, enclosed space, she could almost convince herself that this was a dream. Just another of the many dreams she’d had about Mike Hill. Only his hands and lips felt better than she could ever have imagined, much better than before. He used the water sluicing over her body, his hands, his mouth. At some point his clothes came off—she wasn’t sure exactly when because her mind seemed to be floating instead of functioning correctly. The crinkle of a wrapper told her he’d come prepared, so she didn’t worry when he lifted her up and, much more carefully than last night, eased himself inside her.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

She could feel the muscles bunching in his arms and shoulders as he bore her weight, understood he was holding back.

“I’m fine,” she said, although she’d never been happier in her life, and felt him relax a little.

He began to move, slowly, almost leisurely at first, so she could feel every exquisite sensation. Then everything seemed to swirl together and run hotter, higher, faster. She was spinning and spinning and spinning, until, finally, she shuddered against him.

“That’s it,” he coaxed, chuckling as she went limp. “That’s what I wanted.”

She clung to him even after he set her on her feet; she felt so weak she feared she might slip right down the drain. The experience had already surpassed all her expectations, but he wasn’t finished yet. After she’d had a few seconds to recover, he said, “Again.”

“No, it’s your turn.”

He ignored her and went back to kissing her—and stroking her. This time it took only seconds until every nerve in her body tensed and seemed to cry out his name in bone-melting pleasure.

“Did you like that?” he murmured, pressing his forehead against hers as they caught their breath.

“It was…good.”

“Then let’s do it again.”

“What about you?”

“Shh.” He nibbled at the corner of her lip, and she didn’t argue further. Mike held her to him as though she might disappear completely if he let go. She sensed that he was giving her something of himself he hadn’t given before. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it went far beyond the physical. And it made a huge difference.

“Enough,” she said hoarsely when she was so sensitive she couldn’t take any more.

Mike let the water pound onto them both for a minute, burying their heads in the spray. Then he traced a bead of water down her neck to the tip of her breast and started moving again. But this time it was his turn, and Lucky knew she’d never again feel as powerful as she did right now. She wrapped her legs around his hips, drawing him even deeper inside her, and he groaned in absolute abandon.

CHAPTER EIGHT

EVEN BEFORE MIKE OPENED his eyes the next morning, he felt a smile across his face. Every muscle complained when he tried to move, but he didn’t mind. It was a good kind of complaint. And he knew that, this time, he didn’t have anything to feel bad about as far as Lucky was concerned.

Lucky…He pictured her clinging to him in the shower last night and felt a fresh wave of desire stir low in his belly. Then he realized that her soft body wasn’t curled against him, as it had been from the moment they’d dried off and fallen into bed.

Forcing his eyelids open, he glanced around the room. The storm was over, and he was hungry. He knew those two things right away. But he didn’t know where Lucky was. He couldn’t see her inside the bathroom. He couldn’t see any of her stuff.

He pushed into a sitting position. She was gone. Where and how, he couldn’t say, but he knew she wasn’t coming back.

It was better this way, he told himself when he felt a sharp stab of disappointment. He would’ve liked to make love to her one more time. She was so warm, honest and unbridled in her responses, he found it almost intoxicating. But he would’ve wanted to buy her breakfast, and being seen around town with Lucky Caldwell would not be a good thing. Better to leave well enough alone. He felt satisfied—or mostly so; he hoped she felt the same. Now he could move on.