TOO HOT TO HANDLE Page 22

  A tear slid from the corner of her eye as she pulled him down to her. "I love you too."

  Mike froze, his arms locked, his mind stuttered. He wasn't sure if he'd heard her say she loved him or if it was his imagination. He'd imagined it so many times.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing?"

  "Then why aren't you kissing me?"

  "I'm just … did you? I mean, would you please repeat that?"

  "Repeat what?"

  "That last thing."

  "I love you too."

  She gave him a full-body kiss, stealing his air, his heart and soul.

  "Mike?"

  She expected him to speak? The best he could do was grunt. Before he knew what she was doing, she'd rolled over on top of him. He'd thought she was beautiful before, but man, he'd never seen anything as beautiful as she was now. Her hair wet and wild against her sun-kissed skin, her face flushed, and her eyes dark with excitement all for him. He grabbed her hips, moving her to the rhythm in his head, the rhythm both their bodies screamed for. He was so close. Annabelle chose that moment to slide down, his dick making a path up her body, slipping between her breasts. She nibbled on his stomach and headed south.

  Oh God, he was going to die of sensual overload. No doubt about it. His heart hammered his ribs so hard they hurt. His lungs pulled in air and expelled fire. His whole body was one large nerve ending, and everywhere she touched set off sparks of need.

  Annabelle nuzzled his dick. She wrapped her hand around the base of it and held it as she rubbed her cheek against it, all the while watching him watch her.

  "I still can't get over how soft and hard at the same time."

  Mike was mesmerized. It was the most erotic thing he'd ever seen. Annabelle kneeling over him, her cheeks flushed with excitement, her lips shiny and dangerously close to his dick, her wet hair cold against his heated skin, and her ass in the air. When she licked her lips, Mike groaned. Then with a swipe of her tongue, she licked the drop of cum off the head of his dick. He wasn't sure how much of this he could take, but he was willing to die finding out.

  Her mouth opened and took him in. Every fiber of his being called for him to first grab hold of all that hair and go deep into the hot, wet recesses of her mouth and throat. Instead, he stayed still, holding on to his rapidly slipping control, and concentrated on not coming. Not yet.

  She started sucking in earnest. He couldn't hold out much longer. He had to do something now, or he'd come right there—an appealing thought, but he didn't want to start their weekend by coming in less than two minutes.

  "Annabelle, stop."

  When she didn't, he reached down, grabbed her under the arms, and pulled her onto his chest—her face just inches from his.

  "I know I really suck at that … pardon the pun. I'm sorry."

  "Belle, that's not the reason—"

  "I wanted to try it again. I've been thinking about it—"

  "You've been thinking about what exactly?"

  "Making love to you with my mouth. Sucking on you. Pleasing you."

  "You have?" Oh, shit, if anything this conversation was making his situation worse.

  "I thought about it the whole way here. I've been waiting for hours, just thinking how it would—"

  Mike flipped the two of them over. With one hand, he parted her and slid home. She was hotter than he'd ever felt, tighter and wetter, and when she wrapped her legs around his waist and moved, he went deeper than he'd ever been.

  "Listen to me."

  Her eyes opened wide and stared into his with an expression he couldn't pin down. Fear? He kissed her, holding himself inside her, tasting himself on her lips, and driving himself to the brink. "You are great at that. Too good. I just didn't want it to end so soon. I want you to come, too."

  "I think I already did."

  "When?"

  "Once in the car thinking about it, and once while I was doing it."

  There it went, all the control he'd tried to hold on to slipped out of his grasp. The thought of her turning herself on thinking of going down on him was one thing, but getting so hot she came just thinking about it, and again while she doing it.

  "I'm sorry, baby." He took her hard and fast, and he could swear he hit her cervix, he was so deep. She came almost instantly, drawing him deeper, blinding him with feeling. He came hard and long with a pleasure so intense it almost hurt. Everything about her was a turn-on, and oh man, when she moved, he lost himself in her. He knew he loved her, but he didn't know a man could feel like this—this insane mixture of lust, love, need, excitement, and fear. He looked into her eyes. It was like looking in a mirror, only her eyes were filled with tears.

  It took all his strength not to collapse on top of her, but tears did strange things to men. Giving superhuman powers was a new one on him, but that's what it seemed to take to hold his weight up and kiss her. "Hey, what's wrong?"

  He started going through a mental checklist. She came, she seemed really into it, and she didn't seem to be in pain… Oh shit. He hadn't worn a condom. No wonder it felt so insanely good. He'd never had sex without protection, not once, but then he'd never been with a woman who could make him forget his own name. "Belle, I'm so sorry, but I swear, I've never done this before, so you're safe."

  Annabelle sniffed and wiped her eyes. "What are you talking about?"

  "We had unprotected sex. Isn't that why you're crying?"

  "No."

  "Then what's the matter?"

  "Nothing."

  "Why are you crying?"

  "I have no idea." She hiccupped. "God, this is so embarrassing."

  "So you're not upset?"

  "About forgetting to take precautions? No. I mean, I'm on the Pill now, and we're both clean and healthy. We're not seeing other people, are we?"

  "I'm not. Are you?"

  "No!"

  "Then why the tears?"

  "I don't know. It's like I felt so much. I overflowed, and it leaked out my eyes."

  "Happy tears?"

  "No. Why would I be happy about smeared mascara and a red, blotchy face?" She started laughing.

  "God, I love you." Mike couldn't help himself. He kissed her, and she kissed him back, then wham, things heated up again.

  His hand found her breast. Her nipple was already hard, and when it hit his palm, he swore there must be an electric current running straight to his dick. "Come on, we're going upstairs." Just as soon as he could stand. "There's a great big bathtub with our names on it."

  So much for the bath. By the time they made the trip from the couch to the bedroom, the last thing on their minds was cleanliness. One minute they were laughing and playing, and the next they were making love. But it was different now—more intense, more satisfying, and more scary.

  Annabelle had never experienced so many different emotions at once. They ran through her mind like bumper cars careening out of control. She tried to shut them down, but it was more difficult than she'd expected. Mike had a way of getting though her every defense.

  She lay beside him with her head on his chest, listening to the beating of his heart. She wasn't sure if he was awake or asleep, but the poor guy needed to sleep for a week. The nap he'd taken on the ride out had definitely done some good, but making love a few times must have worn him out. She ran her hand lightly down his side and snuggled closer, throwing her leg over him. Her leg came in contact with a surprisingly turgid part of his anatomy. The man could be dying from exhaustion and still be a veritable Energizer Bunny when it came to sex.

  Annabelle moved away, not wanting to start anything. "I'm going to take a shower. I'll just be a minute." She slid out of bed and rummaged through her suitcase until she found a comfy pair of shorts and a T-shirt. She looked over her shoulder. Mike lay on his stomach with his arms wrapped around a pillow, watching her without even pulling the sheet over him. She could look at him all day. He was beautiful.

  "What? You're looking at me funny."

  "You make quite a beautiful picture
there." One she'd keep in her mind forever. She tried to memorize the slightly confused look on his face. "You have a beautiful body. In this light and against those sheets, in that pose—"

  "I'm not posing."

  "I was trying to say you look like you belong on canvas." The way the setting sun lit the room and the contrast of his skin to the dark sheets and walls made her itch for a sketch pad, a canvas, and paints.

  "The only beautiful body in this room is yours. Besides, men aren't beautiful."

  "That's where you're wrong. I find the male form incredibly beautiful. Look at Michelangelo's David. I swear it's the most beautiful body, male or female, ever sculpted."

  "Oh, so you're talking artistically."

  "I guess so." Annabelle laughed. "I better get that shower."

  "You sure you don't want company? I can wash your back."

  "Right now, I'm more interested in your culinary skills. I'm hungry. You better make dinner."

  Mike rolled over. "I'll take care of it."

  "When I get out of the shower, I'll give you a hand."

  "You want to help in the kitchen?"

  "No, but I thought I should offer."

  "How about this? I take care of dinner, and you take care of dessert."

  "What do you want for dessert?"

  "You."

  She bent and kissed him. She was tempted to offer dessert first. Then her stomach rumbled, and they both laughed.

  "Okay, I can take a hint. Hurry up with that shower. I want to eat fast."

  She walked away, leaving him tenting the sheet.

  When Annabelle found Mike in the kitchen, he looked up from whatever he was chopping and smiled. He had on a pair of shorts—or maybe it was a bathing suit—and a T-shirt that was just tight enough to show off his chest. For a guy who didn't spend hours in the gym, he had a really nice chest. She tore her eyes from his chest and met a self-satisfied smirk on his face she chose to ignore.

  "You want to eat on the deck?" he asked.

  "Sure, what are you making?"

  "I thought I'd make barbecue chicken and roasted vegetables."

  "Sounds good."

  "Yeah. Whenever I'm here, I take advantage of Nick's grill. It's the size of my kitchen at home, and I really appreciate not having to climb through a window to get to my little hibachi on the fire escape."

  She had no problem picturing Mike doing just that.

  "Hey, we can get a gas grill for the garden behind your place."

  "Sure." Annabelle tried injecting enthusiasm into her voice. It was hard to feign excitement about something you knew would never happen. It felt like a lie. Not only was she the world's worst liar, but she didn't want to lie to Mike, or anyone else. She felt guilty enough keeping things from him. When she finally told him the truth, he might not be happy with her decision to spend a perfect weekend together before dropping the bomb.

  She hadn't thought of that. Or the fact that not only would their relationship be over, but Mike might come out of it hating her. She didn't think she could stand it if he hated her—not when she loved him so much.

  Annabelle slid onto a barstool across from him and watched him chop fresh vegetables faster than the chefs on the cooking shows. He ran the back of his knife across the cutting board and, with his hands, shoveled the perfectly chopped vegetables into a waiting bowl. Then he tossed them in olive oil and spices, added the bowl to a tray stacked with grilling utensils, and topped it with a tray of marinated chicken he took from the fridge. He tossed a towel over his shoulder before hefting the pile and heading toward the deck.

  "There's beer in the fridge and red wine breathing on the counter. Why don't you get some while I throw the food on the grill?"

  "Sure."

  Mike stopped dead in his tracks and looked at her in that disconcerting way of his. "It seems like 'sure' is your word for the day. Is that anything like the word 'fine'?"

  "Excuse me?"

  "You know, when a woman's angry and the man asks if she's okay, she says she's fine … right before she throws a shoe at his head."

  "I'm not angry."

  Mike did his X-ray stare again. "No, not angry, but something is bothering you. You look a little sad."

  She wasn't sure she could pull this off. "Maybe it's just hormones." Which was partially true. She was completely hormonal, but the only symptom she could blame on it was a fierce craving for chocolate. Now she'd have to add constant horniness to the list, too.

  She wasn't sure Mike believed her, but he was a guy, and doctor or not, guys stopped asking questions when a woman mentioned cycles of the female variety. He went on his not-so-merry way to the grill, and she took a wineglass hanging under the cabinet and poured. She took a sip and then checked out the label, because it was really good. It was appropriately called One Last Kiss. She gulped another mouthful of the wine and tried not to cry.

  Mike watched Annabelle through the wall of windows. The lights were on inside, giving him an unobscured view without her knowledge. He felt like a Peeping Tom when he saw the emotion crossing her face as she stared off into space. She struggled with something, and he was sure it was more than hormonal. He had nothing concrete to go on, just instinct. Unfortunately, his instincts had never failed him. He only wished he knew what to do about it.

  Annabelle straightened her shoulders like she had before they left Vinny's office to face their families on Mother's Day. She dreaded having to sit through a family dinner after they announced their relationship, and she was insanely nervous about meeting his mother. He could understand that, but why would she dread seeing him?

  She finished her first glass of wine, refilled it, and poured another. Dave let out a whine. He'd been sitting beside Mike waiting for him to drop something.

  "I fed you already, you big galoot. You're not getting anything else."

  Mike flipped the chicken and decided that maybe he was overreacting. He hadn't spent enough time with Annabelle to know what she was like when she was premenstrual. It would explain the tears earlier. He'd just have to do more to put a smile on her face. A romantic dinner for two was just the beginning. Dave groaned and lay on Mike's feet. Okay, a romantic dinner for three. Then maybe a moonlight stroll along the beach.

  Annabelle juggled opening the door while carrying two glasses of wine and the bottle. "Hey, do you need any help?"

  She was the one who needed help. Mike rushed over, taking the wineglass she offered him and the bottle before she spilled them all. He closed the door and gave her a quick kiss. "Are you any good at grilling?"

  She took another sip of her wine. "No, but I'm good at eating. I can help with that."

  "Good. Dinner is almost ready."

  Annabelle and Mike spent the rest of the night talking about nothing in particular. They strolled along the deserted beach with Dave running around getting sandy and wet.

  It must have been Dave's first beach experience. He barked at the waves and then chased them until one crashed right over him. In the moonlight, the only parts of him visible were his eyes and the white star on his chest. He discovered his inner puppy, and his antics were enough to keep them laughing.

  Mike had his arm around Annabelle, and he did his best to protect her from the showers of salt water and sand Dave unleashed when he shook off. But by the time they walked up the boardwalk to the house, Dave had both of them wet, sandy, and smelling like wet dog.

  "Come on, Dave. We're hitting the shower." Mike pulled Dave into the outdoor shower beneath the deck to give him a quick bath. Dave wasn't too happy about it. The big dog didn't mind getting his face wet in the ocean, but it was another story when the water came from a hose or a showerhead. Mike was glad there was a lock on the privacy fencing around the shower, otherwise Dave would have escaped. As it was, he butted his big head against the door, trying to rip the lock off.

  Once Mike got Dave turned around, he was faced with another problem. "Dave, do you mind? I don't go around sticking my head between your legs." He didn't realize A
nnabelle was right outside. She was certainly enjoying herself and didn't try to muffle her laughter over his predicament. A couple of towels were tossed over the wooden door.

  "Mike, I'm going upstairs to shower."

  "Oh, thanks a lot. Desert me in my time of need."

  "What are you talking about? I brought down towels for the two of you. Come up after both of you are dried off. I'll just be a minute."

  Annabelle took more than a minute … more than fifteen minutes, but hey, it was time well spent if the final result was taken into consideration. She stepped out of the steamy bathroom into the candlelit bedroom.

  Mike had candles covering every flat surface above the height of Dave's tail, and a tray of fruit beside him on the bed. He'd not only prepared a healthy dessert, but he'd somehow dried Dave enough to keep the smell of wet dog out of the bedroom. When she stepped into his open arms, she was even more impressed to find he no longer smelled like wet dog either. In fact, he smelled really yummy, and he'd accomplished all of it in less time than it took her to shower, dry her hair, and primp. Damn, did she ever feel inadequate.

  From the look on his face, he wasn't complaining. But if they wanted to get any sleep, she should have waited until tomorrow night to wear the nightie that Wayne said would make him consider going straight.

  She stepped out of Mike's arms, slid into the robe she'd tossed on the foot of the bed, and tied it around her waist.

  "Babe, putting that robe on is like locking the door after the car's been stripped."

  Annabelle woke up knowing how lunch meat felt. She was jammed between Mike and Dave, both of whom were sound asleep. Dave gave new meaning to the words "morning breath." His head rested between her breasts, and his doggy breath washed over her with every snore. Mike shared her pillow and had an arm and a leg thrown over her, leaving her no escape. Even worse, she had to pee.

  She nudged Dave's head. His eyes shot open, then his tongue shot out and got her right on the mouth. Eww! He seemed happy to snuggle and moved even closer.

  "Dave, get down," she whispered.

  Dave gave her another kiss. He'd obviously had never learned morning-after etiquette. Mike yawned, stretched, and gave her the third kiss of the morning. Mike had obviously missed the same etiquette class. She'd never been kissed so much.