Fuck him.
He knew immediately where her mind was turning. It was where her sister’s had turned.
Mike wanted not one thing to do with Debbie Holliday.
But Dusty…
This Dusty.
Fuck him.
“Dusty –” he started. What he was going to say he didn’t know. What he knew was, her face had changed, her body had relaxed into his and his arms did not move from around her.
Before he could say it, though, she spoke.
“Shocker,” she muttered.
Her word was unexpected so he replied, “Pardon?”
Her eyes left his mouth and came to his. “Shocker,” she repeated softly. “That you’re even more gorgeous than when you were high school. Total shocker.”
It wasn’t. If she took any time to look in the mirror she’d see the same thing every day.
“Honey –” he started, forcing his arms from around her, his hands sliding to the sides of her waist to set her away but her fingers pressed into his neck and he stopped.
“Good genes, Mike Haines,” she whispered, her eyes dropping to his mouth, her body sliding up his as she went back up on her toes. “You’ve always had them.”
Fuck.
Her lips hit his but not for a kiss. Eyes open and staring into his, her lips moving against his lips, she warned, “I’m gonna kiss you, babe.”
His fingers pressed into her waist and he warned back, “This is not a good idea, Dusty.”
Her eyes flared in a way he felt in his dick and her mouth moved against his so he knew she’d smiled.
“Yeah?” she asked then didn’t wait for an answer. “Well, I’ve carried through with a lot of bad ideas, gorgeous. And I’ve done all right.”
Before he could respond, her hands slid into his hair, holding his head to hers and her lips pressed hard.
Any other woman, bar none, made a play on him like that, he wouldn’t like it. Complete turn off. He made the plays. He initiated the moves.
But fuck him, her lips felt good. Her tits also felt good pressed tight to his chest. The soft flesh under his fingers felt good. And she smelled fucking great.
And there was the small fact that he’d had nothing but his hand for over two months. And the last woman who he’d shared a bed with was of the Debbie in high school variety.
It had been a while.
Too long. Way too fucking long for a man like him.
So his mouth opened over hers.
Her tongue instantly slid inside.
His tongue instantly forced it out and slid into her mouth.
She flattened herself against him.
Fuck, that felt great.
His arms closed around her and she felt good in them. Too good. She wasn’t too short.
She was fucking perfect.
He slanted his head and deepened the kiss. She tilted hers, let him in and did it on a sexy whimper that vibrated against his tongue and he felt straight to his dick.
His hands immediately went to her ass.
She immediately gave a little hop.
He caught her, lifting her, her legs rounded his hips and, kissing her the whole way, he walked Dusty Holliday to the bed.
Then he put her in it, joining her there.
And then Mike Haines proceeded to fuck away her pain at losing her brother.
Chapter Two
Making a Mental Note to Do Cartwheels
Okay, shit. I just fucked Mike Haines, my sister’s ex-boyfriend.
No. That wasn’t right.
Okay, shit. I just fucked the unbelievably gorgeous Mike Haines, who was hot when he was seventeen but who was astronomically, amazingly, super hot gorgeous now, my sister’s ex-boyfriend and it was by far and away the best sex I’d had in my life.
And my brother had never died so I couldn’t know unless we had sex again, and Jesus, God, please, I pray, let it happen again, but it wasn’t about emotional trauma.
It was just that Mike was astronomically, amazingly good in bed.
Okay, shit. Okay, shit!
Right, I should probably not pray to God to give me great sex but, seriously, He created Mike and gave him his abilities, He had to know a woman would want more.
But now what did I do?
I drew in a breath and felt Mike’s fingers drifting on my shoulder. His touch was light. It was also sweet. And I liked it a whole lot. But it was messing with my ability to concentrate.
Further messing with it was that I had my head in the middle of his chest, my arm thrown around his flat abs and my leg tangled in his. After we were done, Mike put us in bed and pulled the sheets up to our waists.
I stared down his chest to his abs trying to think. Then my thoughts about what to do next drifted away with Mike’s sweet touch as I stared at his abs and I found a more pertinent thought to think of.
This being if it was possible that his abs were another divine miracle. I mean, at his age, how did he have a six-pack?
I shook this thought from my brain and, doing what I’d done my whole life, I decided to wing it.