He tossed the cloth back into the sink, bent, lifted me into his arms and carried me back to the room. Down went my legs again when we made it to his dresser. He opened a drawer, yanked out a tee then he pulled it over my head. I shoved my arms through and tugged it down as he opened another drawer and pulled out a pair of plaid, flannel pajama bottoms. He tugged them up and then I was again in his arms, he walked us back to the bed, sat on its side with me in his lap then stretched out, arranging me on top of him.
We ended up, legs tangled, Mike pulling my tee up, one of his hands on my ass, the other one wrapped tight around my back and he ordered, “Now, kiss me, honey.”
I decided to kiss him. I did this because I wanted to. I also did it so I wouldn’t start crying at experiencing all the beauty Mike Haines just gave me.
When I was done, I pressed my face into his neck and relaxed into him.
Mike’s fingers moved light on the skin of my ass.
I sighed.
Then I teased, “Is that official protocol for dealing with a stalker? Saying macho, badass, possessive alpha male shit that would piss him off and send him over the edge?”
Mike’s hand at my ass stopped drifting. His fingers cupped it firmly, possessively and he replied, “No. I didn’t take that call as a cop. I took that call as a man who was fucking my woman for the first time in my goddamned bed and I did not like some other man who will not clue in he cannot lay claim to what’s mine callin’ while I was doin’ it. So I didn’t think like a cop. I thought like a man who was pissed off an asshole was calling while I was pleasurably engaged in makin’ my woman purr for me.”
My belly pitched and it felt nice.
I lifted my head and looked down at him.
I knew he wasn’t experiencing any belly pitches because he did not look happy.
So I asked cautiously, “I take it that was Beau.”
“Yeah,” he clipped, his eyes holding mine. “That was Beau.”
I pressed my lips together. Fucking Beau.
“You hear from him since the last incident?” Mike asked.
“No,” I answered.
“Fuck,” he muttered, his eyes moving to the ceiling. “He gave it time, let you cool down, thinks he could make another approach.”
I figured this was true. Though I had no clue how he got my new number.
Mike went on, still muttering, “Not gettin’ the message.”
I figured this was true too.
“Luckily, I’m a thousand miles away,” I reminded him and his eyes came back to me. “And living next door to my badass, alpha male cop boyfriend and in a house with two teenage boys who love their Auntie Dusty, know where their Dad’s shotguns are and aren’t afraid to use them.”
The anger slid from his eyes, his lips twitched and he kept muttering when he said, “Yeah.”
I decided I didn’t want to talk about Beau so I dipped my face closer to his and whispered, “That was hot honey.”
His hand at my ass and arm around me gave me a squeeze.
“Yeah.”
“Like, mega-hot,” I went on.
He grinned.
Not done, I informed him, “Like, mega, off the charts, I’ve never come so hard, hot.”
He started chuckling.
“You’re a bad boy under all that good,” I observed.
“Nothin’ bad about it. You came harder than you ever climaxed, seems to me, that’s all good,” Mike replied logically and he was not wrong.
“You got more where that came from?” I asked.
He grinned.
Then he answered, “You liked that, you got a lot to look forward to.”
Great freaking news.
I grinned back.
He lifted his head and kissed me softly.
When he was done, I repositioned so my cheek was resting on his shoulder and his fingers resumed drawing on the skin of my booty.
I relaxed deeper into him and reflected on the week.
It was Friday night after Clarisse’s birthday party. That week I’d had lunch with Mike twice at Frank’s, met him for a quick cup of coffee once at Mimi’s and I’d come over on Wednesday night to have dinner with Mike and his kids.
Or, I should say, Mike came to get me even though I could walk to his house. But he did this because we ate with his kids then his kids camped out in front of the TV with us so we had no alone time.
The good news about this was that clearly No and Rees liked me. Rees was emerging even more out of her shell and responding to my attempts to bond with her.
The bad news was we had no alone time except when Mike took me back to the farmhouse and we made out in his car. We did this heatedly but not long enough for me. This was mostly because neither of us wanted two impressionable teenage boys to see their aunt and a local cop going at it hot and heavy in the lane.
So I said my good-byes and walked up to the house wishing for the first time that I wasn’t going to sleep alone. I had no problem sleeping alone and didn’t mind doing it. That wasn’t to say I didn’t like company in my bed and, if they didn’t snore, I liked it regularly. I was not a slut, I chose my partners carefully (I thought at the time until I was proven wrong) but I was willing to endure long, dry spells. Which I did.
But I didn’t like to be separated from Mike. I’d had only one night sleeping in his arms and I did that. Slept in his arms. That wasn’t something I normally found comfortable.
With Mike, it came naturally.
It had been gone a long time. I wanted it back.