Soaring (Magdalene #2)(112)

I licked him clean then made my way up his body, kissing his stomach, his chest, his neck, and only when his arms closed around me did I settle, skin against skin on Mickey.

I caught his eyes and when I did, he muttered, “She’s cute, a smartass, makes great brownies and swallows.”

“Is this a stamp of approval?” I asked.

His hand slid down and clenched my behind. “Like you don’t know a man gets off on a woman who takes all of him in her mouth.”

I grinned and I could tell it was smugly.

His gaze narrowed on my mouth right before he surged up. I cried out. Then I was down, head to the pillow on the other side of the daybed and Mickey was on top of me.

“Payback,” he whispered.

And without hesitation, he commenced working his way down my body until he threw my legs over his shoulders, dipped his face to me and proved that payback Mickey Donovan style was, one hundred percent, not a bitch.

* * * * *

It was September, the weather had cooled, though not that much. But I had a fireplace in my bedroom. It was easy to light and it was romantic. So, in front of said fire, after I gave it to Mickey with my mouth and he returned the favor, we laid under my new, fluffy, soft afghan, naked and silent on my daybed, sometimes stroking but mostly just holding each other and watching the fire.

It was Wednesday after my kids left me and Cillian and Aisling were at friends’ houses, Cillian hanging, Aisling doing some school project.

This meant we had time.

It was just time that was going to end.

“When do you have to go get Cill again?” I asked.

“Eight thirty,” he answered.

I stayed as connected to him as I could and reached to the closest thing that would give me what I needed, this being his phone. I pressed the button on the bottom and saw it was just going eight.

I dropped the phone and snuggled back into him, muttering, “Half an hour.”

“Come away with me.”

My head jerked against his chest before I lifted it and looked at him. “I’m sorry?”

“Got the kids this weekend. Next weekend I don’t, and you don’t have yours. And Jimbo’s got a hunting cabin that his wife took over to make it a cabin-cabin. It doesn’t have a lot, but it’s got everything you need. Jimbo uses it when he hunts but she uses it to hang around and read while he hunts. Been there once. It’s a nice place. Not much, bed, kitchen, stereo, no TV. If he’s not usin’ it, wanna take you there.”

I didn’t care if it was filthy and decorated in dead animal heads, Mickey wanted to take me there, I wanted to go.

“Okay,” I replied.

“Like I said, it’s not much,” he said. “But it’s far away. No kids. No exes. No fire department. No old folks. Just two days, you and me.”

That sounded fabulous.

“I’d love to go, Mickey.”

He took one arm from around me and ran his knuckles down my jaw, dipping his voice to say, “It’s pretty basic, Amy. But they got heat and light, a fridge, a stove,” he tilted his head to the fire, “a fireplace.” He rubbed his thumb along my lower lip. “We can be naked the entire time and you won’t even notice where you are.”

I loved he wanted to go away with me.

I loved that he was being so sweet.

I loved how he was touching me.

I did not love all that his words were saying to me.

“You do know, although I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, that filthy rich people don’t spontaneously combust when they step foot over the thresholds of such places as hunting cabins.”

His hand dropped away and his eyes narrowed on me. “Just want you to be prepared for what you’d get when you got there.”

“I kinda got what I was going to get when you said Jimbo has a hunting cabin. Since Jimbo shared that for his regular job he’s a mechanic at a local dealership, I would not expect to go to said cabin and find you having a personal valet and me having the opportunity to boss around a chef.”

His eyes stayed narrowed as he growled, “Tame the smartass, Amelia.”

“I will, Michael, when you come to terms with the fact that I have money,” I snapped.

“Think we had a drama witnessed by the residents of a nursing home that saw the end of that shit,” he returned.

“Really?” I asked my question but kept right on speaking. “Then why would you need to assure me we could be naked and I wouldn’t even know where I was?”

He clamped his mouth shut and his jaw went hard.

“Yeah,” I whispered.

He unlocked his jaw to reply, “Maybe we shouldn’t go.”

I slid myself up his chest, my pique increasing at his words. “Oh no you don’t. You’re not allowed to be sweet and lovely, offering to take me away from it all, then rescind that offer.”

“I do if you turn into a smartass and hand me shit.”

“I want to go away to a hunting cabin with you,” I told him.

“Then you shoulda just said that, not handed me shit.”

“I did,” I reminded him.

“You did then you handed me shit.”

I looked to the fire and mumbled, “Forget I said anything.”

“Amy,” he called.

“What?” I asked the fire.