Tonight it did. Everything bothered her. From the sound of her neighbors clanging up the stairs to that infuriating man in the next bedroom who’d basically dared her to come to him, it all drove her nuts.
She rolled over on her left side, punching the pillow beneath her with a clenched fist. It wasn’t fair, what he asked of her. Telling him it was a mistake—he’d taken that as some sort of dare. As if he knew she would come to him eventually and give in.
Damn it, she wanted to give in. She’d wanted to give in for weeks, for months. It was fine to drool and lust and dream when she thought he wouldn’t reciprocate. A harmless crush, she told herself. So what if it was his face she imagined when she touched herself while using her vibrator late at night? It meant nothing.
Now that he kissed her, wanted more from her, it had all changed. It became reality. And reality was a whole lot scarier than fantasy.
But what if the reality is just as good, or even better than the fantasy?
She wanted to tell that nagging little voice to shut the hell up. It wasn’t thinking of protecting her heart, it wanted her to go for it, forget the consequences.
Sitting up, she tugged on her ponytail, tightening it. She wasn’t dressed for seduction. She was dressed for bed. Thin, pale pink tank top and panties, makeup long gone, her hair in a sloppy ponytail, she wasn’t going to impress. If she would slip into Austin’s bed, didn’t she want to wear something provocative, have her hair just so, her makeup perfect?
Michaela slapped her hands over her eyes. Oh, this was difficult. She didn’t remember agonizing like this over having sex with any of the men she’d been with before. Well, the exception being her very first time ever but that didn’t count. Yes, she’d been anxious and a tad nervous with every new encounter but that was normal.
This was not normal. The possibility of a friend turning into a lover was intimidating.
The possibility of her bisexual friend turning into her lover? It was impossible to even comprehend.
Go to him, the voice whispered. Show him that you want him. You know you won’t regret it.
It was tempting. Her aching pussy certainly encouraged her. She thought about whipping out her trusty vibrator but it wouldn’t be enough, not tonight.
She wanted him to be the one who touched her, kissed her, filled her. She wanted the flesh and blood man. She wanted Austin.
Throwing her covers off, she knew then she was going to him. The consequences and regrets be damned.
Chapter Four
Austin’s sleep was fitful, his dreams a whirlwind of montages, endless scenes of him and Michaela strung together. In bed, out of bed, arguing, making up, kissing, him slowly undressing her. Naked and in his bed, her bed, on the couch, her riding him nice and slow, his hands wrapped around her slim waist. Her down on her knees in front of him, whispering that she’d do anything he wanted.
Whispering…it seemed as if someone whispered to him now, close to his ear, hands on his skin, feathery touches brushing the sheets down low, lower. He rolled over on his back, slowly opened his eyes to find an angel hovering above him. Green eyes wide, small hands upon him, resting on his chest and he stared up at her, blinked once, twice.
It wasn’t a dream. Michaela was there. The three fat candles he had left burning on his dresser in hopes she’d show sputtered, their flickering light casting across her beautiful face.
She smiled, a tremulous curve of lips, and she looked nervous, skittish. “I did as you asked.”
“Huh?” She confused him, distracted him with her hands touching him, fingers stroking, sliding down and he remembered he’d gone to bed naked.
Which meant his raging hard-on wasn’t contained.
“I came to
you. I brought the ball back over into your court.” She tucked a stray hair behind her ear and he blinked again, bringing her more sharply into focus.
She knelt beside him on the bed, clad only in a thin tank top and a pair of panties. Her hair was pulled off her scrubbed-clean face, her skin fragrant with the lotion she slathered on just before she went to bed. He’d seen her this way countless times, knew her nightly ritual like he knew his own but somehow, tonight, she reminded him of a siren.
Prepared to seduce with her most basic arsenal, herself. It was all he needed. Reaching out, he touched her, ran his hand down her arm, felt her tiny shiver and he smiled, triumph surging through him.
Finally. He had her in his bed, barely dressed, staring down at him as if he hung the moon. Hell, he felt like he’d just hung the moon, it was so satisfying to have her like this.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Her voice was a raw whisper, a little wounded, and he lifted his hand, sunk it in the hair just beneath her ponytail.
“Come here,” he urged and she bent her head, bringing her face in perfect alignment with his. She gazed into his eyes, hers big and unblinking, and she let forth a trembling breath, the sound stuttering in the quiet room. The candles bathed her skin in golden light and she appeared ethereal, reminding him of the angel reference that had popped into his head when he first opened his eyes.
She did remind him of a pretty little angel. Innocent and sweet smelling and so, so soft. Rich blonde hair, creamy skin, with the flushed cheeks and those bottomless green eyes, she drove him crazy. Fucking insane.
Now here she was. In his bed, ready and ripe for him. He slipped his arm around her shoulders, crushing her against his chest and then he lifted his head, brushed the softest kiss to her lips.