What He Left Behind(61)

“Probably. Or even keep playing it by ear, but make sure we’re still spending time one on one. I have no doubt Michael will understand.”

“More than most guys would, I think.” He nudges me gently. “We should eat something.”

“Yeah.” I drape my arm over him and cuddle closer. “But I don’t want to move yet.”

“Neither do I.” He nuzzles my hair. “This is comfortable.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Come on. Let’s go make some dinner before we fall asleep.”

I want nothing more than to lie here with him, but I nod and start to get up. “Yeah, good idea.”

Ian stops me with a hand on the back of my neck, and he grins. “Maybe a light dinner. I don’t know about you, but I could go for some more tonight.”

Goose bumps spring up along my spine. “You can have as much as you want.”

The grin broadens, and he draws me in for a kiss. “Maybe dinner can wait, then.”

“Hmm. Maybe it can…”





Chapter Nineteen


It’s no surprise that Michael’s completely supportive when Ian and I tell him we need a couple of nights a week to ourselves.

“Like I’ve said from the beginning,” he tells us over dinner, “I don’t want to cause any problems between you two. I’m happy to make whatever adjustments help you guys.”

Funny how I was so worried about this being a bad idea. I’m married to and sleeping with two of the most levelheaded, laidback men on the planet. While I get worried and convince myself we’re on the cusp of disaster, they adapt as if they can’t imagine why not.

So on an evening when Ian’s swamped with papers to grade—which he neglected for a few nights in a row because of both Michael and me—he gives me a kiss, tells me to have a good time and reminds me to kiss Michael for him. And it’s completely normal. This has become normal in our house. Which is weird when I think about it, but living it feels exactly that: normal.

As does walking into Michael’s house, saying hi to Cody and continuing into Michael’s kitchen, where he’s waiting with a glass of wine in his hand.

“Right on time.” He sets the glass down and wraps his arms around me. “As always.”

“Couldn’t possibly be late.” I kiss him lightly. “By the way, Ian says hello. And he sends”—I cup Michael’s neck and kiss him again, longer and deeper, just the way Ian likes it—“that.”

Michael grins. “I’ll definitely make sure to send one home for him too.” He holds my gaze, and the grin falters a bit. “I, um…I’m actually glad it’s just you and me tonight, though.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

He rests his forearms on my shoulders. “Because I want tonight to be different. It’s been all about me from the beginning. Tonight, it needs to be about you.”

“But we—”

He kisses me, and my resistance doesn’t stand a chance. Some nights, we talk for a while, and maybe go through a little bit of wine, but sometimes we cut right to the chase. This is going to be one of those nights, according to this languid bedroom kiss.

After some long, undefined expanse of time, he draws back and meets my gaze. “I know this has been stressful for you. Fun, yeah, but let’s be real. I know you’ve worried about me, and about your marriage.” He takes my hand and leads me toward the bedroom. “I just want you to know that I appreciate it.”

“I know you do, Michael. I’ve never doubted that for a second.”

“Still.” He pauses. “I think we should finish this conversation in the bedroom.”

It seems like a topic that can easily kill the mood, but I do what I’ve done since the start—follow Michael’s lead. Into his bedroom. Out of our clothes. Into his bed. Into another long, tangled kiss.

Without breaking the kiss, Michael rolls me onto my back. Then, he moves from my lips to my jaw, and continues down my neck. “I’ve told you time and again how much you’ve done for me, and how much it means to me.” Kiss by kiss, he inches down my torso. “Tonight, I want to show you.”

“Show me? How are…”

As he starts down my abs, his eyes flick up to meet mine, and the pieces snap together.

He’s really…

He passes my navel, pausing now and then to flick his tongue across my skin.

Oh my God.

His lips mark a slow, gentle path along the edge of my hipbone.

He is.

He starts at the base of my cock, drawing little circles with the tip of his tongue, and my breath is gone. Just gone. My eyes water, and it’s more than arousal. I can’t even believe what I’m seeing, what I’m feeling—Michael’s going down on me?

He works his way from the base to the head, kissing and teasing. Just like that very first time a lifetime ago, he’s taking his time, working up the confidence while he’s turning me inside out.

He rests a hand on my hip, quite possibly to keep me still, and runs the tip of his tongue along the underside of my cock. And when he reaches the head, I expect him to go back down, but instead—

Holy. Fucking. Hell.

His lips slide down over the head. Before I can catch my breath from that, he runs his tongue around it. Again, back the other way. He doesn’t take me very deep, but that’s just fine by me—what he’s doing is…so…good.