Amaia smirked. “It’s tempting.”
Michael leaned in close. “I can tempt you in other ways.” His voice was different than she had ever heard it, husky, heavy with promise. This time, when his lips touched hers, they were fierce, strong with passion. He smashed his lips to hers, curling his arms around her waist, crushing her to him.
As quickly as the kiss had started, it ended. Michael withdrew, placing his lips instead on her collarbone and then her neck. They travelled frantically over the exposed flesh of her chest. “Do you know how many times I’ve dreamt of this, Amaia?”
“No. I can’t imagine it’s less than the number of times I have.” Amaia realized it was true. She had tried to pretend she didn’t desire it, but often her idle thoughts had drifted to Michael and what it would be like to bed him in his male form. She tried to convince herself it was purely professional interest, but that was such a pathetic lie she was ashamed to even have thought it.
Michael slid the shoulder of her dress down as far as it would go. He kissed the newly exposed skin slowly, almost reverently. His lips led him to her back. She twisted, giving him easier access. When he swept her hair back to reach the first button of her dress, his breath tickled the skin of her neck. Fully clothed, she felt strangely exposed. Perhaps it was knowing that it was the first time Michael, the man, would see her. With Michelle, it had been so different. Would he like what he saw? Never before had she been more aware of the flaws of her body. While her clients sung her praises, she knew she convinced them to see only what they wanted to, the fantasy that the women in their life were not prepared to fulfill. It would be different with Michael. He would see her. She wouldn’t be able to convince him of a fantasy. She didn’t want to.
Each unfastened button was followed by a kiss, leaving a trail down her spine that tingled up and down her back. Michael was slow and methodical. No one would have guessed how long he had waited to do this. Eventually, his lips reached the corset hidden beneath the fabric of her dress. His fingers were just as careful and slow in unlacing it as they had been unbuttoning her dress. Amaia felt the boning relax as he loosened the corset. Her body was slowly freed. Soon, he would see all of her. She would be exposed to him, and there would be no turning back.
Michael had the corset completely undone. Amaia stood, keeping her back to him, and removed her clothing. When she sat back down, she turned to face him, her hands covering her breasts, head lowered, eyes seeking out any focal point except him. How did he make her feel like a virgin again? Even more of a virgin than she had been her first time because that time she had known it was all about business. She had never permitted a man to see her, the person, flawed and vulnerable.
Michael’s warm hand turned her face to look at him. “It’s all right, Amaia. You don’t have to feel shy. I’ve seen you before.”
“I know, but it was different then.”
“Not to me. I see you every day. You’ve always been transparent to me. Don’t worry. You don’t have to move your hands. Just lay down. Relax.”
Why was he the one comforting her? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? She was the experienced professional. Still, Amaia found herself following his orders. She leaned back on the bed, situating herself on the pillows.
“Comfortable?”
Amaia didn’t trust herself to speak, so she merely nodded. Michael smiled and ran his hands down her body. The feel of his hands against skin that had so recently been confined made her shiver. He gripped her waist, and Amaia loved the secure feeling of his hands wrapped around her slender frame. She felt safe. He spread his hands out along her abdomen, covering as much skin possible. His lips caressed her stomach, feather soft despite the chapped skin. Amaia felt each line of his lips, the faint wetness from his saliva, the tickle of his breath. Each nerve jumped and reacted to him, buzzing wherever he touched. She felt a little overwhelmed, which did not bode well for the rest of the evening.
Amaia closed her eyes and simply enjoyed his kisses. In her mind, she mapped the path of his mouth. With her eyes closed, she focused more fully on the sensations. They were slow and sweet in a way lovemaking with a man never had been before. Of course, it wouldn’t be. She was used to trading sex for money. It wasn’t the same. Oh, how she was learning it wasn’t the same.