Raw Deal (Larson Brothers #1)(62)
This had all been a horrible mistake. She was so f*cking confused she had no business making any decisions for herself. Now she’d brought a wonderful man from his bed to drive five hours overnight to get to her, and she’d just run from him as if he had the plague when he hadn’t done a f*cking thing to deserve it.
Get it together, her mind screamed at her, but her heart still beat agony through her veins.
Minutes ticked by, and she tried, she really did. She splashed cold water on her face, washed the tears away. Tried to plaster on a smile for her reflection, but even to her it looked fake.
“Okay, I’ve given you a minute,” Mike said from outside her door, and she wondered how long he had been standing there. “Talk to me, Savannah.”
It reminded her of telling Rowan about him through the closed dressing room door at the Galleria. Somehow it had made it easier to say difficult words. Not this time. She needed him as much as she wanted to run from him.
Sighing, she pulled the door open, not even trying on her fake smile for him; he would see right through it.
He stood with one arm braced on the door frame, head lowered slightly but eyes trained directly on hers. His very presence eclipsed her bedroom. “Should I not have come?”
“I’m glad you did,” she said, sounding small. “I just . . . last night . . . and thinking about how hurt she still is . . .”
“I get it.”
“How is it that I deserve this? Deserve you?” And how damn long would he put up with her erratic emotions?
“Shit, you deserve someone a hell of a lot better than me. If I weren’t so f*cking selfish I would leave you alone so you could find him.”
“You’re one of the least selfish people I think I’ve ever met. I mean . . . you’re here.”
“When I shouldn’t be. I should be getting up to hit the gym with Jon but I don’t care.”
Her heart, rattling around somewhere around her feet, lifted a bit when he said that. Maybe he really was moving away from that life, the one that she didn’t think she could ever be a part of again. Especially now, hearing how damn easy it was for an old injury to spell a fighter’s demise. It amazed her it was so rare.
And it took her mind back to Rowan. She’d fallen in love, planned for forever. Counted on it . . . only to have “forever” with Tommy cut brutally short.
What a precious, fragile thing it was to have Mike in front of her right now. Reaching up for his face, she felt the rasp of his stubble against her palms, marveling that he was real and he was here. Hard blue eyes bored into hers, warming as they stripped through her layers of anguish to seek a depth inside her she hadn’t known existed. Then his mouth found hers while thunder rumbled through the skies overhead. There was so much she wanted to show him now that he was with her, but at the moment there was only time for the feel of him against her, of his mouth moving slowly over hers, questing for entrance. She gave it eagerly, standing on tiptoes to reach him. She loved how small he made her.
“Fucking missed you,” he growled against her lips, and she whimpered as his big hands crept around to cup her ass cheeks and squeeze her against his groin. She climbed him, lifting her legs to wrap around his narrow waist, her hands tugging at back of his snug black T-shirt to get to the hot bare skin underneath. Needing him naked, needing him between her thighs making her forget all the bullshit in her life.
“You know,” he murmured, depositing her on the mattress amid her rumpled white sheets, “I wanted to wake you up with my mouth between her legs.”
“Oh, God, why didn’t you?”
“You seemed a little emotionally fragile last night. You seem that way now, too.”
“That’s a damn good reason to get your mouth between my legs,” she insisted, stripping his shirt off now that she had room to do so.
He grinned, goddamn gorgeous in the gray morning light with his shadowed jaw, chiseled body, and that mouth that was mere moments away from driving her wild. Here. Now. In her bedroom. He’d come to her. It was almost too much to believe.
Raising up on his knees, he tore at his jeans without looking away from her face. She’d yet to touch him but she could see the hard ridge of his cock through the denim. When he shoved his jeans away and she wrapped her hands around him, remembrance surged through her belly. She could almost feel him inside her before she got him there, thick, stretching. And Jesus, those obliques, pointing straight to paradise.
Savannah sat up to give him a few loving sweeps of her tongue, but he didn’t let her linger long. She found herself pushed back down with impossible strength, and he held her there while his other hand tore her panties down her bare legs. She went liquid with a need so acute that she squeezed her thighs together against the ache. Michael only wrenched them apart as she gasped and squirmed, whimpering and clenching her fists as he took a long, hungry look at her most intimate place.
“You,” he breathed, sliding one hand up the inside of her left thigh, “you are heaven.” And he dipped down to taste, one long lick after another, looping his arm around her thigh and holding her open with his thumb and index finger. Oh, God, the pleasure of it was too sharp, she was too sensitive, but every move she made to blunt his assault on her senses was thwarted. And she loved it, shoving both her hands through his short hair and pulling up little tufts of it between her fingers.
“I’m going to come,” she warned, only in case he didn’t want her to, in case he wanted to feel her ripple around his thrusting cock. Then she pretty much realized no, that was what she wanted. “Fuck me, Michael, do it now, please . . .”