Lucky Streak (Lucky 2)

He agreed with a low rumble from deep in his throat.

Her body agreed, too. More than anything, she wanted to satisfy the need he always created inside her. “But we can’t continue what we started.”

The words didn’t come easily and the startled look on his face would have been priceless if it didn’t hurt so badly.

And Mike wasn’t laughing. “Why not?”

She gripped the counter behind her. “Because we’re in your father’s house. It’s disrespectful, for one thing.”

His eyes opened wide. “You were willing earlier! And we’re married, for heaven’s sake!”

“I know.” More and more, she was beginning to think she wanted to stay that way, for more reasons than just the physical. That was why she’d changed her mind about sleeping with him now. She wanted to be smart about every move she made. “I just wouldn’t be comfortable doing…it…here.”

Throughout the day, she’d come to some conclusions she hoped would prove valuable in the long run. Mike had no problem resisting her in bed. Sexually they were one hundred percent compatible. But it was the other areas of their marriage that needed strengthening. She couldn’t work on those if she succumbed to his charm in bed while allowing him to erect barriers everywhere else.

A muscle ticked in his jaw and he folded his arms across his chest. “Tell me you don’t plan on sleeping in separate rooms while we’re here?”

She shook her head, glad he sounded so frustrated at the notion. “Of course not. We’ll sleep in the same room, in the same bed. We just won’t have sex,” she said, lowering her voice on the last word. “Relationships are about more than the physical.”

He grit his teeth, clearly disagreeing. “And how do you think we’ll get through the night?” He reached out and stroked her cheek, his voice tense with suppressed sexual tension.

Tension she felt, as well. But as much as she desired him, a short-term fix wouldn’t h

elp her in the long run.

“We’ll talk,” she whispered in his ear, seductive yet deliberately playful. “We’ll share intimate secrets and get to know each other better.” She brushed her lips across his to silence any objection.

Then, taking his hand, she led her husband to bed.

IN THE BEDROOM, Mike found himself caught in a trap of his own making. He had taken the weekend off from work, a spur-of-the-moment decision he’d made after seeing his father’s reaction to Clara Deveaux. He’d sensed a storm was brewing and he wanted to be there to help his father weather it.

But once again, irony bit him in the ass. Here he was, with his wife, having made the decision to sleep with her now and worry about leaving her when the time came. Didn’t it figure that she’d decide to hold back?

She wanted them to get to know each other, he thought, frustrated in more ways than one.

Maybe if he fell asleep—or pretended to—before Amber came out of the bathroom, he could avoid what was sure to be a drawn-out conversation, not to mention the ache of being constantly turned on as he lay beside her. Unable to act on the need that had been eating him alive since their encounter in the kitchen.

And though he’d like to think she’d purposely led him on, to tease him in a minx sort of way, what he’d glimpsed in her eyes prevented him from thinking so little of her. She wasn’t flirting only to make him suffer. She was as drawn to him as he was to her. As carried away as he’d been. Only she’d come to her senses, out of respect for his father.

Which would have impressed him if not coupled with her need to talk. The female term for bonding emotionally.

He punched his pillow and rolled over, away from the door, a minute before he sensed her presence in the doorway. He knew she was there before she said a word. The fresh scent from her shower permeated the air around him and the light padding of her bare feet had sounded against the floor. His already-strung-tight body hardened even more…though he knew he wouldn’t be getting any tonight.

She slid into bed beside him, the ripple of sheets and heat of her body alerting his senses even more.

“Are you awake?” she asked, placing her hand on his shoulder.

He couldn’t get away with faking sleep. With a groan, he propped himself up against the pillows, resigned to conversation. “I am now.”

She shook her head and laughed. “You were before. I heard you muttering to yourself as I walked inside.”

He hadn’t realized he’d spoken out loud. She had him so distracted he couldn’t think. Now he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her V-neck sleep shirt that gave him too small a peek into her cleavage.

“Focus, Mike. I want to talk,” she said, obviously holding back laughter.

How could he, when a stray piece of hair curled around her cheek, tempting him?

“What is it about this conversation you’re trying to avoid?” she asked knowingly.