Take Me (Take a Chance 4)

His eyes shut down. “Because we were drunk.”

“Bullshit,” she said, echoing his earlier reply to her. “Why didn’t you want to ever get married? There has to be a bigger reason besides not wanting it.”

“Fine, but mine is dark and ugly,” he gritted out. “I didn’t want to get married because my parents were happily dating for ten years but then they got married. After that, my father cheated on my mother and my mother fell apart. Buried her heartbreak in a bottle.”

He pushed his drink away and she swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s life. There’s no use in me being a pussy over it.” He clenched his hands in his lap and looked up at her. “Dad left and my mom spent the rest of my teenaged years crying into her liquor telling me never to get married. Telling me her whole life ended because they got a scrap of paper that made their relationship legal.” He ran a hand through his hair. “That’s why I’ll never get married.”

“But we’re married.”

“Exactly,” he snapped, tossing his napkin on his empty plate. “I married you, even after knowing I’d never wanted that. I married you, and it had to be for a reason. Had to be for something. I refuse to immediately throw this away. I need to understand the reason I did what I did.”

She clenched her fists and curled her toes in her boots. “We were drunk! That’s it. Drunk.”

“So that’s the only reason we have anything between us at all? Because we were drunk?”

“Yes.” But her heart screamed no. “You’re putting all this shit into something that doesn’t even exist. It’s all in our heads. Something we’ve built up that is this amazing feeling, but it’s just sex. Meaningless, fun, wonderful sex.”

“Liar. Even I can admit we have more than sex.”

“No.” She rose and placed a hand on her hip. “It’s not. Just sex amplified by being drunk.”

“Are you drunk right now?” He stood up and headed toward her, his gaze dark and threatening.

She stepped back, but then forced herself to stand still. She wouldn’t retreat from him. “W-What? No.”

“Neither am I.”

She expected him to try to strong arm her into staying, to become all alpha male, but in his usual Mike fashion, he completely surprised her. Instead of throwing her over his shoulder, he tenderly ran a finger down the curve of her jaw. His lips hovered over hers and his warm breath tickled her skin. He stood there, unmoving for a few moments, until her eyelids fluttered closed. She felt his lips gently brush against each lid and dance across her face, until he settled on the sensitive part of her neck.

Emotion clogged Morgan’s throat as her body—her heart—came to life.

She clung to him, pressing against him, needing to feel him against her. Inside of her. The magnetism between them was still there, as it had been before.

“Don’t go,” Mike whispered in her ear before nipping her earlobe. “Stay.”

And she wanted to stay so badly it hurt. Wanted to be everything he wanted her to be, and then maybe a bit more. Damn it, he was right. This was more than sex. If it was just sex, it wouldn’t be so hard to walk away from him. If it was just sex, she wouldn’t want to stay even though she knew she should go.

He tugged her apron over her head, hungrily latching onto her lips as soon as it h

ad cleared her body.

She kissed her way down his face, his neck, his chest, until she was on her knees in front of him. With trembling fingers, she undid his belt and then his pants, unzipping him carefully. Once he was free, she flicked her tongue over the tip of his penis. He dug his fingers in her hair, and groaned, “Morgan.”

God, she liked that. Liked the way he said her name when she pleasured him. Liked the way it made her feel when he needed her like this. She closed her mouth around him, taking him in deep. She rolled her tongue around his length as she sucked, increasing the suction as he groaned louder. She could taste him, knew he was close to exploding, but he pulled back and helped her to her feet.

“You’re fucking amazing, my beautiful dancer.” He punctuated each word with kisses and her heart fluttered at the endearment. My beautiful dancer. “But you have too many clothes on,” he said, his voice guttural. “And so do I.” He kicked off his jeans and grabbed the hem of his shirt while she discarded her bra and panties. Once undressed, they melted into each other’s arms again, then fell to the soft carpeted floor.

She climbed on top of him, one leg on either side of his hips and scratched her nails down his chest, loving the contrast of tight muscles on smooth skin. He arched up, his hands on her butt. She rubbed against him, moaning when his erection touched her clit.

He grasped her tighter, holding her flush against him. “Morgan, I need you now.”

He needed her. And she needed him, too. She grasped his penis and prepared to lower herself down on him. He stopped her, his face red and his mouth pinched. “Condom first.”

She couldn’t believe she’d been so lost in the moment she’d completely forgotten the condom. That had never happened. Just another first in a long, long line of things she didn’t normally do—but she did with him. She retrieved a condom and gently slid it over his erection, wanting to do it for him. She’d never put one on him before, so she fumbled it a bit, but he lay there and let her explore. Let her take the lead.

When she looked up and met his eyes, what she saw there took her breath away. He looked at her as if…as if he felt something for her. Something neither of them had wanted or expected. And scarily enough, she suspected she might be feeling it, too.