Chapter Sixteen
Micah settled into the hot, churning water, floating in an unnatural calm and surrounded by a protective layer of numbness. He didn’t understand why he’d taken Darcy to his oasis. Or why his thoughts had turned to Fernando in the one place his parents’ ghosts didn’t shred him. How much of what she’d seen would end up in the paper next week?
Jesus.
The fear of all he’d done and said seemed external, muted, as if he sensed it from within a thick glass bubble. The way she’d looked at him had put that false sense of protection there. Sensations had seemed heightened at the pond, within the ring of trees, with the birdsong ringing so sweetly in his ears. The brush of her hair against his chin. The soft weight of her breasts against his chest. The movement of her body in perfect unison with his as they’d danced, as if they’d become one body, in perfect understanding.
There’d been no pity in her face. No hint of malice in the soul burning within. If she was playing him, then she was damn good at it, even better than him.
The patio door opened, and Darcy stepped onto the deck in the most unusual bathing suit he’d ever seen. It was black, not quite a one piece or a bikini, but somewhere in between, with a section of fabric that joined the top and bottom along the midline of her stomach. Ties at her hips and under her arms kept it secured, and although she was more covered than with a bikini, it was somehow sexier. One tug on those ties, and the fabric could be easily slipped aside.
It wasn’t sex he was thinking of—or not only sex, given that he was suddenly aware of the growing weight between his legs—but to expose her as she exposed him. It occurred to him that she’d chosen that particular suit to hide the scars on her back.
She turned on the outdoor shower attached to the side of the cottage and stepped under the spray. Tilting her head up in profile, she threaded her fingers through her hair, pushing it off her face. The position made her back arch, accentuating the artfully curved ass, and for the first time, he felt the full impact of her body.
By the time she padded across the deck, studiously avoiding his gaze, and dove into the deep end of the pool, Micah was suffering a throbbing hard-on. He had a desperate desire to spend the night finding all the places on that spectacular body that would make her sigh and squirm away from his touch.
It wouldn’t be fucking in the dark, and he wouldn’t slip away silently afterward with yet another bit of rot in his soul. The tether to her was too strong and growing shorter. If she’d been anyone other than a reporter, and he wasn’t a lost cause… Why was he even thinking about it?
The last time his heart’s gate was open, the loss of the two people he loved most had destroyed him. Falling for a member of the press would end in disaster, if he was even capable of such a thing. Wouldn’t it? Especially once she heard the rest of his story.
Which was just as well. They were who they were, and that life wasn’t for him.
“Micah?” The urgency in Darcy’s voice made him think she’d been trying to get his attention for a while. “Everything okay over there?” She’d come to the edge of the pool across the short section of deck that separated it from the hot tub.
He wasn’t sure how to answer truthfully, so he smiled and said, “All good.”
Water dripped from her long lashes, leaving wet trails down her cheeks. “Everything that happened today is just between you and me, if that’s why you were frowning just now. I’m glad I got to meet the real Micah, if only for a little while. I’ll never forget it. That doesn’t mean I’m going to bring it up again or ask you about anything you told me while we were there. I have a feeling you never meant to say some of those things, especially to one of the vultures.”
The last of his tension vanished, and he realized it wasn’t only her skilled hands that had driven the pain from his arm, but simply her proximity. “Don’t call yourself that. Do it again, and I’ll take you over my knee.”
There was that smile again, innocent, uninhibited, with an edge of mischief. “You’d have to catch me first, and I can run much faster than I can paddle, I’ll have you know.” Her lashes fell lower, and she pointed at him. “And don’t go getting any ideas in that dirty mind of yours while you’re naked.”
“Then you’d better close your eyes or get me a towel from the cabinet over there, because I’m getting out now.”
She swallowed, her skin pinking up. “Stay right there.” A push of those strong arms thrust her body out of the water. Micah watched the mesmerizing sway of her ass as she retrieved a black towel from the cabinet and came back, staring at everything but him.
He stood and mounted the steps, laughing when she crimped her eyes shut and held the towel out to him. He wrapped his hips, tucking in the corner to secure it, and stepped in close to her. “I never thanked you for putting up with my moods. In the kitchen that day when I lost my grip, during my incessant and inappropriate attempts at seduction, today at the pond, and when your hands were more effective than drugs.”
Her lashes lifted high as her gaze searched his, the smile crinkling her eyes before lifting her lips. “Despite its bumpy start,” she said, pressing her palm against his chest, “I think this day just made my top ten best days ever list.”
Micah wrapped his arms around her, his heart giving a wild kick when she wiggled closer and tilted her head to rest against the front of his shoulder. “I thought I knew what good days were, but I think I need to start a new list, starting with today.” And counting backward to the moment she’d walked into his office. Goddamn, she’d seriously messed with his head.
There was a pause as her muscles tightened. “Wow, you really need to get out more. I made you talk about stuff that would make a seasoned soldier curl up in a ball and cry for a month, and we’ve been arguing nonstop. You haven’t even gotten laid despite your molten charms.”
“I like arguing with you.” Micah leaned forward, tipping her chin up with his fingertips, and kissed her forehead, the rosy place beneath her eye, and finally left a long, lingering kiss on her lips. Her sigh of protest when he didn’t delve deeper came to his ears like the first note of a symphony.
Making no effort to hide his satisfaction, he folded their fingers together and stepped back. “I have the perfect ending for today,” he said.
Her lips parted once and shut again before she narrowed her eyes. “What’s that?”
“I couldn’t sleep last night, so I got up and made that cheesecake I promised you.”
She moaned and bit her lip. “Last one to the kitchen has to wash the dishes.” And then she was off, dashing toward the stairs.
Half afraid she’d trip and hurt herself again, and half energized by her actions, Micah raced after her, holding the towel so it wouldn’t fall off. Once he stumbled and almost went down when she took the stairs two at a time, stretching those long, slender legs out to tease him.
This time she’d won fair and square, making it to the fridge and spiking a phantom football as if she’d just won the Super Bowl. Overcome by the unnameable emotion glowing through him like sunlight, he picked her up at the waist, spun her around, and set her lovely ass down on the island counter, this time stepping away before he became helplessly ensnared in her again.
She made him want to be a better man, if only until their week came to an end. Not through any conscious act, but simply being who she was—a woman worth the effort.
“You’ve got wheels,” he said. “Impressive. Now, how much cake do you want to pleasure this time?”
“I do not do that. So, I enjoy my food; why is that so noteworthy?” She bit her lip, and he resisted an urge to replace her teeth with his.
“Clearly, you’ve never watched yourself eat. It should have an ‘X’ rating attached to it.” Chuckling, he turned away from her glower, retrieved the cheesecake with one hand, and swept his other hand over it like a game show host. “Voila, orgasm in a dish. Shall we get spoons, or do you just want to bury your face in the middle and lick it up?” The way he wanted to do with her.
Her gaze fixed on the cake. To prove his point, he moved it left and right until she noticed she was tracking it and groaned. “Spoons,” she said, already half lost to culinary delight.
If she gave herself over so thoroughly to dessert, what would she be like while in the throes of passion? A force of nature that could either restore his faith or raze him to the ground. An image of her on top of him, staring down at him with that half-lidded stare as her slick body covered his, made his cock swell again.
Before she noticed his state, he set the cake beside her, fetched the spoons, and dropped onto one of the stools. Darcy slid off the counter and took the one beside him, wasting no time before grabbing a spoon and poising it over the cake. “Are you really okay with us eating out of the dish like a couple of kids sneaking a treat in the middle of the night? You already know I’ll be double-dipping.”
“We’re the only ones eating it, and we’ve already tasted each another, so what’s the harm?” He spooned up a bite, moaning as the creamy goodness slid over his tongue like silk. If only she’d allow him a deeper taste of her…
When she did nothing but stare at him, her chest heaving a little harder with her quickening breaths, he filled his spoon again. He touched it to her lips only enough to leave a small glob on her upper one. Her tongue darted out for a lick. Those dark lashes fell down like strips of lace across her pale skin, and a moan rumbled deep in her chest.
The sight of her rendered him speechless, and his towel threatened to spring loose under the pressure growing worse beneath it. His world narrowed to her and those lips and those lashes.
Leaving the spoon, he picked up a dollop of cheesecake with his finger and lifted it to her lips. The instant he made contact, she opened her mouth and curled her tongue around his finger, not hesitating before sucking it into the wet heat of her mouth. Her hands came up and clamped around his, holding it while she suckled him, keeping him there until she’d licked him clean of whipped cream.
Sweet mother of mercy.
Any longer and he’d have gone off right there, another part of him certain it had been the recipient of her ministrations. The throbbing in his balls echoed in his ears along with the sound of his blood rushing south. His heart clobbered his ribs double-time, yet his mind remained a quiet, glowing space that held only one thought: Darcy. And how pissed she’d be when she realized he’d once again crossed the line of their attraction without any conscious thought to do so.
He cleared his throat and reclaimed his spoon, digging into the cake again. “It’s good,” he said, focusing on the strawberries instead of the flush of her skin and her deep breathing.
After a moment, she stirred in his peripheral vision and went for more in silence. Trying to control her temper? Or trying to cool the embers he’d once against stoked into flames she didn’t want? “It’s by far the most incredible cake I’ve ever had. Okay, I think this day just went from top ten to top three. Maybe even one.”