Chapter 10
Illicit Pleasures
Savannah
Illicit pleasures were often sweetest. Kissing Mike, oh god, she was drowning in his kiss, his lips, the feel of his hands on her waist. Her head swam and she wasn’t sure it was all just the wine.
She broke away, breaking raggedly. “Mike… I-”
“Savannah,” he whispered brokenly. Her name on his lips was the headiest of wine, a drink that was far more potent than anything to be found in a bottle.
“What are we doing? We shouldn’t be doing this?”
“No? I could have met you anywhere, but you came here.”
“Because you asked me to.”
“You could have picked a different meeting place.”
“No,” she gasped. It was too much, far too fast. She wasn’t prepared for the way he affected her. He made her feel like a woman, and she wanted to be a woman again. She wanted to be touched and held, to be electrified, to be ignited in the way that only Mike had ever done for her.
She leaned into him anyway, the slightest brush of their bodies sending sparks shooting through her veins, soaring through her blood. Fire licked its way over her limbs. Mike was the only man who had ever meant anything to her. He was the only man who she had ever truly wanted. She’d been so afraid of it once that she’d ran away, ran away and tried to keep herself safe.
It hadn’t worked.
“Tell me, Savannah, right now. Tell me to stop and I’ll stop. You can leave if it’s too fast. You can leave if you don’t want it…”
“It’s not that easy,” she whispered, aware of how dangerously close his lips were to hers. His breath was warm on her cheek. She watched his lips move so very sweetly as he formed every single word.
“I know it’s complicated, but I can’t help but want you. You’re so beautiful. You’ve always been so beautiful. I’ve thought about you this entire year. I’ve remembered everything. Do you know how many times I’ve picked up a brush to paint and started and I realize, hours later, that I’ve painted your face? That when I sketch, it’s you, it’s always part of you. I see you always. You’re always with me.”
“It’s different now-”
“I know. So let it be different. I’ll let you leave, if that’s what you want.”
She hated his self-control in that moment, hated his sacrifice, hated that he cared about her enough to give her exactly what she wanted and needed. He gave her an out that she could have taken. She could have walked out the door and been safe, but she already knew that her heart could never truly be safe from him.
“I can’t leave,” she whispered thickly. “I just… can’t.”
“And that is what you truly want?”
The heavy silence swirled around them for a moment before she could finally answer. “Yes. It’s what I’ve always wanted.” She wasn’t even sure she had forced out the words or if she’d just thought them until Mike’s face changed. His features tightened and his eyes glowed. She knew that he wanted her. God, that she’d just given him permission when he would have held himself back. For her. He would have done it for her.
He was frozen, unmoving, as though he couldn’t believe what she’d just said. She had to reach out and run her fingers along the warm, smooth edge of his jaw and bring his face back to hers.
When their lips met, they were hungry, passionate. She moaned into the kiss and relaxed as his arms swept around her waist, her chest, her back, holding her, drawing her even closer. One leg parted her thighs as he stepped into her. Her breasts crushed against his chest, the contact sending a thousand aching shivers through her body, her aching nipples chaffing unbearably against her bra and her clothing.
One hand swept behind her head, his fingers tangling in her long hair. The ringlets had a slight amount of hairspray in them to keep their shape and she winced when his finger snagged on a knot. He didn’t stop. He fisted her hair, pulling her head back to give him better access to her mouth.
His tongue swept into her mouth and she soared higher, the erotic ache growing, sweeping her under where sense and fear had no bearing. Her hips ground into his, crushing their bodies together. She hated the clothing between them, the layers that stopped her from truly feeling him.
She felt like she’d been waiting an entire lifetime for his touch.
He moved then, still kissing her, but he forced her to step back with the pressure of his knee. He did it again and she realized he was trying to steer her out of the kitchen.
She broke the kiss and smiled up shyly at him. He arched a brow before he gripped her hand. She let him lead her from the kitchen, down the hall to his room.
It hadn’t changed one bit. She knew every nuance, every piece of furniture, even the plain black duvet on the bed. She knew the weight of it, what it would feel like against her skin.
He didn’t turn on the light and she was relieved, though enough light spilled in through the slats in the blinds and from the hall to illuminate the not so perfect spots of her.
The fact was, the room was still the same. The house was still the same. They’d changed. Or at least, she had. She knew Mike had too. It had been a year. Life didn’t just stand still. He was a different person than he’d been when they were there last.
“Savannah?” He stepped into her, the massive strength of his body sending a flood of relief and a feeling of safety sweeping through her. She relaxed slightly.
“I…” She looked into his dark eyes. She realized his lips were redder than normal, from kissing her. His face was wild, hard need on his features, in his eyes, but she knew if she asked him to, he would still let her leave. “I- I’m not perfect anymore,” she whispered, heat flooding her cheeks. She was glad it was dark in the room so he couldn’t see just how wild her blush was.
“Perfect?” He stared back at her in question.
“Yes- I… I’ve had a baby. I’m going to be different. It’s not going to feel the same.”
She was so afraid that when he looked at her naked, he’d change his mind. That he wouldn’t want her after all. He stepped back, his lips parted, as though he wanted to say something, but couldn’t. He didn’t move, so she slowly slid her sweater off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. She lifted the hem of her own dress, up over her shoulders, past her face. She cast it aside as well and stood, bathed in the golden glow of light drifting through the open door.
Mike’s eyes swept over her hungrily, hotly, warming her from the inside out. When he reached out, she wanted to step back, to pull away. She closed her eyes, hating that she was no longer perfecta and now he saw every single mark.
“You mean these?” His thumb swept over her stomach, so gently, little more than a whisper of touch. She shivered violently as he caressed the silvery marks.
“Yes. I hate them.”
“They’re beautiful.”
She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. “No they’re not. Stop trying to be kind.” When she opened her eyes she found Mike staring at her, not at the marks, at her. The softness in his eyes was almost unbearable. Unbelievably enough, he meant what he said.
“You don’t think they’re disgusting?”
“No. They’re badges of honor. I know you think they’re imperfect, because they’re on you, but you carried our child here. You gave him life. You did that all on your own. That’s a miracle, Savannah. Life is a miracle.”
“That sounds like some crazy infomercial or something.”
Mike laughed softly. “I’m serious.”
“You haven’t even met him. Maybe he’s a brat and you won’t like him.”
“Not possible.” He placed his entire palm on her stomach, right above her black lace panties, underwear which were way too fancy for just a late night talk about child custody. She had to admit he’d probably seen far worse scars. Mike had done a few mastectomy cover ups, she knew. He’d covered C-section scars, other people’s stretch marks, other surgery scars. To him, the body was probably much more clinical that it was to her. People weren’t canvases. Her skin was something she lived in every single day. “Stop. I can tell what you’re thinking. It’s not like that when I look at you. I see you, Savannah. I’ve always seen you.” His words terrified and healed her all at once.
“Would you cover them up for me, one day? If I asked you to?”
Mike hedged. “Why? They’re hardly noticeable. I know to you they are probably glaring, but to me, you’re glorious. You’re as beautiful, if not more, than you’ve always been. I don’t see the scars, Savannah. That’s just life, your story. You’re always going to be beautiful to me, no matter what.”
“You’re just being kind?”
His eyes flared, something rich and deep and frightening entering their depths. His hand swept to her hip and tightened. “Oh? You want to see just how kind I’m being?”
When his lips crashed down to hers, crushing hers, sweeping her breath away, she knew he wasn’t lying. She could taste his desire for her, smell it, feel it surging from his blood to hers. She couldn’t doubt it any longer. She couldn’t doubt that he meant what he said and that to him, she truly was perfect.