Things We Never Said (Hart's Boardwalk 3)

His expression turned hard. “What if I want what I want, deserved or otherwise?” He rounded the bench. I tried to slip off the stool, but he was on me before I could get away. I pushed my back against the bench as he towered over me, forcing his legs between mine. Pressing my hands to his chest, I tried not to think about how good he felt beneath them.

“Michael,” I warned, but even I could hear how pitiful and lame it sounded.

His heated stare roamed my face before moving south. A muscle in his jaw flexed, and he trailed his fingertips over my left knee. My breath hitched as he pushed the hem of my dress up my thigh, his touch scattering shivers down my spine. “You need to wear warmer clothes,” he muttered, as if to himself.

I curled my fingers into his shirt. “Michael.” I wanted to tell him to stop. To go away. But I also didn’t. I craved his touch.

His gaze returned to mine. “I’m not interested in Dana Kellerman. You know I’m not. So stop starting fights to push me away.” His hand caressed upward, and my body moved of its own volition. My hips shifted so I could widen my legs. Michael’s nostrils flared.

His other hand slid through the thick waves of my hair and curled tight around my nape so he could yank me hard against him. His mouth came down over mine as I clung to his shoulders. Our kisses were fierce and thorough, a hungry dance of our tongues and mouths that was so compelling, I wasn’t aware of being lifted until I found myself atop my workbench. Michael kicked the stool out of his way and moved in between my legs.

As I lost myself in his voracious, desperate kisses, kisses so full of need, it was impossible to pull myself out of them, I felt his touch between my legs. His fingers slipped beneath my underwear. I jerked in surprise and then groaned as his thumb pressed down on my clit and started to rub.

The swelling sensation came over me so fast that my heart galloped while I struggled to breathe. Tearing my mouth from his, I looked up into his lust-hardened face, clinging to his shoulders in desperation as he pushed me toward climax.

It came for me almost as quickly as it had the last time, the tension he built inside me hitting its peak with sharp ferocity. I wanted to throw my head back and close my eyes, but Michael held me in place, forcing my eyes to stay connected to his. Something about the harsh depth of longing in his expression left me unsatisfied, despite my orgasm.

“Michael.” My eyelids fluttered but never closed against him.

He’d watched me come with dark satisfaction.

My inner muscles still pulsed as his mouth returned to mine. Impossibly, his kiss was deeper, more insistent, licking inside me, learning me, and I met him kiss for fervent kiss. It was with a jolt of awareness I felt him pull me almost all the way off the bench. I cried out as he broke the kiss and I had to grab onto him tighter for balance as he let me go to unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans.

This was too far, that voice pounded at the back of my head.

You’ll only confuse him.

Yet the feel of his fingers pulling my underwear down my legs easily silenced that voice. Want, lust, need had overtaken me now. No guy ever made me lose my rational thought so completely as Michael Sullivan. I was a slave to my body when it came to him, and I didn’t care. I lifted my legs to aid him.

God, I wanted him.

Seconds later, he was kissing me as he pushed inside me.

“Michael,” I breathed, shuddering against him as he worked himself into me.

“Do you know how good you feel?” he panted, his fingers biting into m

y thighs. “Nothing feels better than this. Eternity in fuckin’ heaven would have nothing on a lifetime of being inside you.”

My eyes dampened at his beautiful words, and I lifted my fingers to trace the mouth they’d come out of. His movements inside me should have been fast, furious, but they weren’t. He took his time, he savored me.

“I love your mouth,” I gasped, focused on the way his lower lip curved inward in the middle. I could nibble on that mouth forever.

“I love you,” he panted. “So fuckin’ much.”

It was like a bucket of cold water. Frigid water.

The words cut through my rapture.

Oh my God, I was so selfish. What was I doing? I shook my head, tears filling my eyes. “Michael.”

As if sensing my retreat, he growled, the sound vibrating down my throat as he crushed his mouth over mine and kissed me back under his spell. That’s all it took. His heat surrounding me. His kisses drugging me.

Michael’s glides became hard thrusts that pushed me quickly toward climax. Everything about his lovemaking turned frantic, desperate, needy. He left my mouth to trail warm kisses down my throat, his grip biting into my hip as his other hand moved over my body. His fingers plucked at the buttons on my dress so he could push his hand down inside my bra.

I gasped, arching into his touch as he rolled his thumb over my nipple and squeezed my breast in time with a hard thrust of his hips. It was too hard, almost painful, but a pleasure-pain that made me undulate faster against him.

I was mindless.