What He Left Behind(20)

Tonight, I’m almost hoping he doesn’t work up the courage to take this very far because I’m probably too nervous to get it up. Back when we had sex the first time, I was nervous as hell, but I had teenage hormones as an ace up my sleeve. Now? Not so much. And I’m sure that’s exactly what Michael’s psyche needs—trying to conquer his fear of sex with someone who can’t get or stay hard.

Oblivious to my worries, Michael picks up a bottle of oil off the dresser. “I’ve had this stuff for ages, but never used it.” He tears the plastic seal around the lid with his thumb and peels it off. “You’re not allergic to anything, are you?”

“Not that I’m aware of. What’s in it?”

He looks at the label. “Sunflower seed oil, some sort of flower extract, and—wait.” He looks closer. “Crap. I don’t know if this stuff is condom safe.” His eyes flick up and meet mine. “Is that okay?”

I study him for a moment. “Do you think we’ll get far enough tonight to need condoms?”

Michael tenses. “Um…”

“One step at a time.” I smile. “I just don’t want you to think we have to get that far tonight.” Especially since I don’t know if I’m going to make it that far tonight.

He swallows but then relaxes slightly. “Okay. Yeah, I don’t know. One thing at a time, right?”

“One thing at a time.” I gently take the bottle and set it on the dresser. Then I close my hands around his. He straightens, pulling in a sharp breath, but he doesn’t jerk away. Holding both his hand and his gaze, I quietly say, “There’s no pressure tonight, Michael. We only have to go as far as you’re comfortable.”

He swallows. “I guess I…” His eyes lose focus, and then he shakes himself. “I don’t know.”

“Relax.” I smile. “It’s me.”

“I know it is.” His expression is deadly serious. “I don’t think I could handle being here with anyone else.”

Jesus. What did that * do to you?

His thumb rubs back and forth along mine. “For, uh, future reference, though, do you think we need to use condoms?”

I consider it for a moment. “Well, I haven’t been with anyone but Ian in years. It’s up to you.”

“I’ve been tested.” He shrugs. “I’m okay without them if you are. And if Ian won’t object.”

“Since we won’t have to worry about it tonight, why don’t I talk to him later?”

Michael nods. “Good idea.”

“For the moment, though…” I glance at the massage oil, and when I grin at Michael, he returns it.

With his free hand, Michael reaches up and touches my face. The contact makes my skin prickle all over and speeds up my heart rate.

Then, without a word, he draws me down, and when our lips meet, I release his hand and slowly, gently, put my arms around him. He cradles the back of my head as he deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue alongside mine. My head is spinning and my pulse is racing, both from the kiss itself and from Michael’s sudden surge of confidence.

And so much for whatever concerns I had about not being able to get hard.

I try to draw my hips back a little, but Michael presses his fingers into my lower back, keeping us close together. For a moment, I’m back in our early days, when a kiss like this was almost a guarantee that we’d be horizontal and sweating before long, and I hope like hell that this boldness holds out. That whatshisname doesn’t sink his claws in and remind Michael of his past and his fears.

Remember our past, Michael. Not the one you had with him.

He breaks the kiss and gazes up at me. “Wow,” he whispers breathlessly.

“Yeah. Wow is right.”

His eyes flick toward my lips, then meet mine again, and he grins. “I’m…I’m definitely in if you still are.”

I lick my lips. “Absolutely.”

“So, massage?”

“Yes, please.”

He kisses me once more, and then he lets me go. He turns down the bed and moves the pillows off to the side, and while he does that, I strip off my shirt and jeans. To my surprise, Michael starts getting undressed too, and I don’t question him. This is all about his comfort zone, and if he’s comfortable getting undressed, I’ll call that a step in the right direction.

It’s a struggle not to stop and stare at him, though I do steal a few glances. It’s tough not to—he’s always had a gorgeous body, and time has been nothing but kind to him. He’s smooth in all the right places, sharp in all the others, with a few constellations of freckles here and there, placed as if to deliberately draw attention to his shoulders and pecs.

“Um.” I gesture at the bed. “Facedown?”

“Yeah. Use whatever pillows you need. So you’re comfortable.”

I settle on the bed, which is a challenge now that my cock has definitely decided to join the party. Thank God for a pillow-top mattress. I take one of Michael’s pillows, fold my arms under it, and rest my head on top of it. And then fidget a little more until I’m as comfortable as a man can get while lying on an erection.

Michael joins me. I can’t tell if he’s sitting or kneeling. Hell, he could be standing on his head for all I know—he’s just beyond the edge of my peripheral vision, only his body heat and the slight dip in the mattress giving away his presence.