Fine. So they could have the this isn’t a good idea chat in private. Better idea. She walked in and waited for him to close the door. As she spun around to tell him they were better off not crossing this line, her first word was interrupted by his hands fisting in her hair, pulling her head back so he could kiss her deeply.
All protests died the instant his lips hit hers. This was no polite, cold, businesslike merging of two bodies. It was hot, a little wild, messy. Their lips tangled, teeth bumped, hands groped for purchase in hair, at the back of their necks, shoulders, fisted in shirts. Anything they could do to anchor themselves more firmly together and keep the contact.
He ground his body against hers, palming her ass and pulling her as close together as physically possible. The moment his erection pressed into her stomach, she knew she was lost to the inevitable. Never before had she felt the bright… need. There was no other word for it. Need clawed through her, erasing all thoughts of slowing down, of stopping, of being rational. This need wasn’t a rational feeling and wouldn’t allow reality to penetrate the fog it created.
His large hand smoothed down to the junction where her butt met her upper thigh, squeezed hard enough to make her gasp into his mouth, then did the same thing with the other side. “Hitch up,” he breathed.
It took her kiss-addled mind a moment to realize what he was asking, then she immediately complied, jumping enough that he could catch her under the thighs and give her the chance to wrap her legs around his waist. It pressed her open core into his erection, and she moaned at the feeling.
“You’ve got to stop making those sounds,” Michael chided in a gruff voice, walking with her. The sensation of moving backward, already deprived of oxygen from their drugging kisses, had Kat’s head spinning. “I won’t last five fucking seconds otherwise.”
“Not… oh,” she mewled as he hitched her harder against him. “Not doing it on purpose.”
“Right.” He kicked his bedroom door closed—why, she didn’t know—and walked to the bed. Kat looked at him, eye level, waiting for him to press her against the mattress, cover her with his body and continue making love to her. In preparation, she unwrapped her legs from around his waist.
Then she went flying, back hitting the mattress and bouncing twice before she settled down. “What the hell?”
Michael stood beside the bed, grinning, clearly pleased with himself that he’d thrown her—literally—off-balance.
“You ass,” she ground out. But it didn’t dull the sharp edge of need.
“You like when I’m an ass,” he countered, toeing his shoes off before sitting beside her. “If I were easy on you, you’d be bored. You’re that kind of woman.”
Kat’s heart stuttered at that. That kind of woman. Was it meant to be an insult? Was he going to bring up the sex tape now? The thought made her want to throw up.
Something on her face must have shown, because he bent over and kissed her gently, more a brushing of the lips than a real smooch. As he kissed her lips, her nose, her cheeks, he spoke.
“I meant that in the best way possible. You’ve fought me tooth and nail every step of the way. You don’t give up ground. You won’t surrender. So when you’re here, in my own damn bed, it’s because I know you want this as much—maybe more—than even I do. You can’t know how much that turns me on.”
“I can guess,” she breathed as he pulled back. The fact that his erection felt like a tree trunk against her was a pretty good indication.
His hands glided up and down her arms, head shaking. “Now that you’re here…”
“You don’t know what to do?” Kat interrupted. “It’s pretty simple. When a boy and a girl like each other very much…”
Michael gripped her hip and rolled her instantly, giving her a quick smack on her ass for that. She laughed, then moaned as heat spread. It was meant to be playful, she knew, but it still did something to her.
“You’re such a mouthy one. How they ever thought I could be any sort of influence on you is beyond me.”
“I’m hopeless.” Kat rolled back to face him, beaming.
“You’re my kinda hopeless,” Michael admitted, then kissed her once more.
She was here, in his bed, willing and waiting.
And Michael had no clue what to do with her.
Okay, he knew what to do with her. He wasn’t an idiot.
Or maybe he was since he was sitting there, staring at her, thinking instead of touching.
With one hand, he pulled her shirt up, waiting for any cue from her to halt progress. But her lids half lowered, as if she was too lost in the sensation to make them stay open to watch. When he reached the edge of her bra, she shifted slightly, letting the shirt glide effortlessly over her breasts to rest below her chin. Then she reached down to rip it up and over her head before launching it across the room.
So she wouldn’t be a passive bedmate. Good, he thought savagely. She had too much fire in her to lay back and let anything just happen to her. And he wanted to witness every moment of it.