Under the Northern Lights(55)

A small laugh escaped me. “I’ve never actually done this before, so it just might be my worst.”

He laughed too. “If you’ve never done it before, then it will also be your best. It’s all in how you look at it.”

That made me feel a little better about possibly making him look like a four-year-old had cut his hair. Maybe next time it would look like an eight-year-old had done it. Assuming there was a next time. Not wanting to think about the end of us—yet again—I smoothed out his hair and made my first cut. He flinched like I’d hurt him, and I smacked his shoulder. He laughed, then relaxed into the tub. I made cut after cut, his hair getting shorter with every pass. I kept getting distracted by his shoulders, his chest, his arms, his abs . . . where his hands were covering. Every exposed part of him that I could see was like a beacon drawing me in.

It wasn’t until his hair was as short as I could artfully get it when I noticed something I’d never noticed before. There were very faint markings on his neck, like an old, faded tattoo, one that had been as removed as it could be. And it was in the shape of a cross. I was surprised to see it, and once I figured out what it was, I was stunned. I lightly traced the design with my finger. His belief had been as strong as mine at one point, but grief and despair had ripped it away from him. It broke my heart.

Michael tensed as he felt me tracing the mark he’d tried to remove, then hide. I could tell he was waiting for me to ask about it, waiting for me to bring up a conversation he didn’t want to have. Instead of saying anything, I leaned down and kissed the newly exposed skin. A shuddering sigh escaped him, and the tension released from his body. I shifted around so I could see his face. Smiling softly, compassion in my heart and my eyes, I cupped his cheek. I’m so sorry.

Like he’d heard my inner condolences, he gave me a tentative smile, one that begged me not to say anything. Respecting his wishes, I turned my attention to his beard. “Now it’s time for the food trap.”

I started in on it, and he grabbed my hand. “Leave some, okay. It’s cold out there.”

Frowning, I nodded. “All right, I’ll leave you a blanket. It will just be a more aesthetically pleasing one.”

He laughed, then smiled up at me. It was harder to cut his facial hair than the rest of him. His eyes glued on me were a thousand times more distracting than his body. I kept stopping and staring, and even though I knew his water was getting colder and colder, he never once said anything when I was lost in his eyes.

Once I was finished and his beard was neatly trimmed, close to his face, my breath caught at the sight of him. “Oh . . . wow . . . ,” I murmured.

His brows creased as he felt his new do with one hand. “What? That bad?”

Biting my lip, I shook my head. “No . . . not at all.” My eyes roved over his face, taking all of him in. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you are quite possibly the most attractive man I’ve ever seen.” He’d hidden it well behind the crazy hair and life-in-the-woods beard, but now that he was stark naked before me, there was no hiding the truth. He was gorgeous, as attractive on the outside as he was on the inside.

Michael looked away, a small smile on his lips. “Why would I take that the wrong way?” he asked, glancing at me out of the corners of his eyes.

Smiling brightly, I told him, “I don’t know . . . all I know is that I’m going to have to kiss you now.”

He turned his lips toward me in invitation, and I immediately lowered my mouth to his. The sweetness and warmth enveloped me at once. For the first time, his scraggly beard didn’t tickle me, and with the smooth, trim newness, I could feel every aspect of his glorious lips. Heaven. As I moved my hand to his cheek, he ran his through my hair. Desire surged through me, faster than ever before. I’d wanted him for so long now, and I’d tried to satisfy the craving with these mouthwatering kisses, but my body was screaming that it wasn’t enough anymore. I needed all of him. But we couldn’t go there.

I was just about to pull back, take a breather, when he shifted his position in the tub. Sitting up, he wrapped both arms around me, then pulled me inside with him. A shriek of surprise left me as the nearly lukewarm water saturated my clothes and spilled over the sides. There was barely any room for me on his lap, but it felt completely natural to be there. Michael laughed as I squirmed, then pulled my mouth back to him.

As I grew accustomed to the water, I settled in to the kiss. It felt different kissing him from this angle—more intense. And with him being completely naked beneath me, I could feel, for the first time, just how much he wanted me. “Michael,” I murmured, my hand running down his chest to his hip. God, I want you.

Michael’s breath was fast as he kissed me. The desire running rampant between us was almost enough to make the residual water in the tub start to boil. As my fingers inched down his hip, Michael’s drifted up my chest. His hand cupped my breast, and a groan escaped me. Yes.

I shifted my mouth so I could kiss along his cheek, heading for his ear. Michael’s eyes were closed, and the noises leaving his mouth were pleased and needy. I ground the side of my hip against him, wishing there was more room in this damn tub. As my lips closed around his earlobe, his hand slipped under my wet shirt. Just as I started sucking on his lobe, he pulled aside my bra and swept his thumb over a rigid peak. Another groan escaped me, and I moved my hips just far enough over that my hand could wrap around him.