Recipe for Temptation (18 page)

She grew aroused beyond all bearing.

She grabbed his butt, her hips pumping wildly as she met the driving force of each stroke. He groaned, throwing back his head and closing his eyes. A fine sheen of perspiration coated his dark skin. Her gaze was riveted to a trickle of sweat that rolled down his quivering stomach muscles and disappeared between their joined bodies.

They rocked and glided against each other, their guttural cries and moans echoing around the large kitchen. Reese’s heart thundered, her skin burned everywhere. A full, delicious pressure was gathering velocity in her loins.

Michael set her back down on the table and drew her legs higher around his torso, as high as they could go without wrapping around his neck. His eyes blazed black as coal as he drove into her ruthlessly, plunging so deep she felt the vibrations in the back of her womb. She keened with pleasure. Her body soared higher, the pressure building to fever pitch.

With one last powerful thrust, he sent her hurtling into an orgasm of cataclysmic proportions. She threw back her head and screamed his name as her inner muscles pulsed and contracted with the explosive spasms.

A moment later Michael came with a primal shout, his hips bucking furiously as he rode her through his violent release.

They clutched each other tightly, his face buried in the damp curve of her neck, their bodies shaking, their breath sawing in and out of their lungs.

Reese didn’t know how much time passed. She didn’t care. Wrapped in Michael’s strong arms, with his throbbing penis sheathed inside her and his heart drumming against hers, she could have clung to him forever.

At length they drew apart and stared at each other with identical expressions of awe.

Reese trembled as he stroked a hand over her hair and brushed a tender kiss across her cheek, then her mouth.

“Beautiful Reese,” he murmured in a voice that reached deep into her soul. “There’s no turning back now.”

Her heart swelled to aching. She closed her eyes against a hot sting of tears.

Then, and only then, did she remember Victor.

God help me,
she thought.
What have I done?

Chapter 13

W
hen Michael awoke the next morning, the first thing he became aware of was the lush, silky warmth of Reese’s body curved snugly against his, as if they were interlocked pieces of a puzzle. A perfect fit.

As he came more fully awake, he made another stunning discovery.

He was in the same spot he’d been in when he’d drifted off to sleep after making love to Reese last night. The
exact
same spot. He knew because the covers weren’t twisted around his legs or hanging off the bed, as he usually found them in the mornings. No, they were still resting at his waist, undisturbed. Which could only mean one thing.

He hadn’t moved all night.

But that’s impossible,
his mind rebelled.

For as long as Michael could remember, he’d always been a fitful sleeper. His mother used to tell him that as a newborn, the only way she could get him to sleep for a few hours was to keep him latched onto her breast. The moment she stopped feeding him, he’d wriggle himself right awake. As he grew older, his parents had often entered his room to find him huddled in the middle of the bed and shivering in his sleep because he’d kicked off the covers.

Over the years he’d lost count of how many women had accused him of retreating to his side of the bed and not snuggling with them during the night. He’d grown so tired of hearing the same complaint that he’d stopped spending the night with his lovers, getting up and leaving them shortly after sex. Sure, it made him seem callous and selfish, but he figured that was the best way to spare their feelings in the long run.

He wasn’t a sound sleeper. Never would be. So spooning a woman during the night was out of the question.

Yet there he was spooning Reese. And, apparently, he’d done it all night.

I’ll be damned,
Michael thought, shaken by the discovery.

It was just one more example of the way Reese was turning his world upside down.

Before meeting her, he’d had no concept of what it meant to be obsessed with a woman, to crave her so badly that nearly every waking thought was consumed with her. But over the past week he’d received a crash course in obsession, and he was proving to be quite an apt pupil.

As vivid memories from last night flooded his mind, he couldn’t keep a slow, wicked smile off his face. After their explosive interlude at the restaurant—would he ever see his precious kitchen the same way again?—he’d somehow convinced Reese to spend the night with him. Though she’d seemed a bit subdued on the ride to his penthouse, once he took her in his arms again, she’d surrendered with the same desperate abandon as before.

They hadn’t even made it upstairs to his bedroom before he’d had her long legs wrapped around him as he thrust into her. He’d made love to her over and over again throughout the night. He was insatiable, couldn’t get enough of her.

As if to demonstrate, his penis hardened in response to the lush swell of her bottom nestled against his lap. He grinned, already contemplating several creative ways he could wake her up—all involving the use of his hands, lips and tongue.

But as he edged closer to her, Reese suddenly tensed and shifted away from him.

His grin faded. Was she already awake?

Propping himself up on one elbow, he peered down into her face. Sure enough, her eyes were open as she stared straight ahead.

He leaned down and pressed an openmouthed kiss to her silky bare shoulder. A fine tremor passed through her, and her long lashes fluttered. He felt a glimmer of hope.

“Good morning,” he murmured.

She didn’t turn to look at him. “Good morning.”

“Did you sleep well?”

She hesitated, then nodded reluctantly.

“I did, too. Slept like a baby, in fact.” It was true. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever enjoyed such a deep, sated slumber. And he’d awakened feeling refreshed and blissfully content. He could definitely get used to more mornings like this.

Provided he got the opportunity.

Smiling down at Reese, he gently combed his fingers through the thick, lustrous strands of black hair fanned out across her pillow. She closed her eyes, but not in languid pleasure. She looked strained, as if she were waging an internal battle.

He found himself holding his breath, wondering which side would win.

A long, taut silence stretched between them.

When Michael couldn’t take it anymore, he decided his only option was to tackle the unwelcome elephant in the room.

“You’re having second thoughts about last night.”

Reese’s eyes opened. She hesitated, then nodded tightly. “It was a mistake.”

Anger flared inside his chest. “It sure as hell didn’t
feel
like a mistake.”

It was the wrong thing to say, the wrong approach to use.

She scooted away from him and sat up quickly, clutching the sheet protectively to her chest. Her cheeks were still flushed from hours of savage lovemaking, her lips were still swollen from hard kissing, her hair was tousled about her face and shoulders, and beneath the sheet, her voluptuous breasts beckoned to him. She was incredibly beautiful.

And too damned tempting for her own good.

Michael reached for her. “Reese—”

She jerked away from him.

Swearing under his breath, Michael fell back against his stack of pillows and blew out a harsh, frustrated breath. This wasn’t going the way he’d hoped. He’d been looking forward to spending a few more pleasurable hours in bed with her. And then he’d imagined them cooking breakfast together, dividing the tasks, making a game of “accidentally”

bumping into each other as they worked. He’d envisioned them laughing, teasing, stealing kisses as they carried their plates out to the balcony to enjoy the scenic view.

But maybe his expectations had been as unrealistic as those of the women who’d wanted him to cuddle with them during the night.

Exhaling a shaky breath, Reese dragged a hand through her hair. “You should take me home now.”

“
No.
Not yet.” Michael was surprised—and slightly appalled—by the note of desperation he heard in his voice. What the hell was wrong with him? Since when did
he
beg a woman to stay after sex?

Reese looked at him, those dark cat eyes roving across his face in silent appraisal.

She seemed to be taking his measure, weighing an important decision in her mind.

He stared back at her, waiting.

After a prolonged moment she glanced away and shook her head at the ceiling. “I owe you an apology.”

Of all the things he’d expected her to say,
that
wasn’t one of them. He stared at her in surprise. “What do you have to apologize for?” he asked carefully.

She tugged her plump lower lip through her teeth. “I haven’t been myself lately,”

she confessed.

“Who have you been?”

“A woman who doesn’t know what she wants. A confused, indecisive woman.” She grimaced. “The kind of woman I’ve always disliked and strived not to be.”

Intrigued by the self-deprecating words, Michael shifted onto his side to face her, propping his head in his hand. “Why don’t you know what you want?” he asked quietly.

She sighed heavily. “It’s complicated.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“Believe me, I wish that were true.” She heaved another resigned breath. “Anyway, the reason I owe you an apology is that I’ve been giving you mixed signals since the night we met. I say one thing and do the complete opposite. Spending the night with you was the behemoth of all mixed signals.”

“You don’t hear me complaining,” Michael drawled.

“Of course not,” she muttered, throwing him a sardonic look. “You’ve been a willing accomplice.”

He arched a brow. “Accomplice? Have we committed a crime here?”

“I almost wish we had,” she groaned, covering her face with her hands.

Michael pretended to take umbrage. “I think you’re the first woman who’s ever told me that committing a crime would be preferable to making love with me. There goes my ego.”

A muffled laugh escaped her. “Oh, hush. You know what I meant.”

He smiled lazily.

Uncovering her face, she shot him a shy glance under her lashes. “Don’t get me wrong, Michael. Last night was amazing—”

“That doesn’t even begin to describe it.”

She blushed deeply, averting her gaze. “You’re right.
Amazing
doesn’t do justice to what we shared last night. It was…unforgettable. But that doesn’t change the fact that it was a mistake.”

His breath hissed through his teeth. “Here we go again. The damn boyfriend.”

“Yes!” she burst out, her dark eyes snapping angrily. “I have a boyfriend, a fact that you seem unwilling or incapable of respecting.”

Michael flinched. Her words had struck a raw nerve, forcing him to acknowledge how easily he’d abandoned his long-held convictions. Maybe he and Grant Rutherford were more alike than he’d thought. Like his stepfather, Michael had pursued and seduced Reese, flagrantly disregarding the other man in her life. Although the obvious difference here was that Reese wasn’t married with children, his behavior was still deplorable by his own standards.

Agitated, he scrubbed his hands over his face and muttered a vicious oath under his breath.

Reese moved to slide out of the bed. “I really should—”

Michael’s arm shot out, forestalling her retreat with a hand on her thigh. Beneath the covers, she quivered at his touch.

“Wait,” he growled, sitting up quickly. “You don’t have to leave. Let’s talk about this, damn it. How serious is this thing between you and that dude?”

Jerking her leg out of his grasp, she snapped, “I’m not going to discuss my boyfriend with you.”

That was probably for the best, Michael mused grimly. The thought of her being with another man—giving herself to him with the same passion and abandon with which she’d surrendered to Michael—filled him with a possessive fury that was unlike anything he’d ever felt before.

Yeah, he definitely didn’t need to know the specific details of her relationship with what’s-his-face. Still, he couldn’t resist demanding, “Are you guys on the outs or what? I mean, he sent you two dozen roses and asked you to come back to him.”

“So you
did
read the card!” Reese pounced accusingly. “I knew it. You had no right!”

Michael scowled. “It fell on the floor. It’s not as if I went digging through the box to find it.”

“You could have handed it to me without reading it!”

“I could have, but I didn’t. Anyway, that’s not the point. I asked you a question. Are you and Victor having a lovers’ quarrel? Are you breaking up with him?”

“No!” she hissed furiously.

Disappointment knifed through Michael. He held her flashing gaze a moment longer, then eased back against his pillows and folded his arms behind his head, a deceptively relaxed pose.

Silence lapsed between them. This time he wouldn’t be the one to break it.

And he wasn’t.

“I’m not a cheater.”

Michael turned his head on the pillow to look at Reese. She’d spoken so softly he wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. “What did you say?”

“I’m not a cheater.” A wry, humorless smile turned up one side of her mouth. “I know that sounds hard to believe under the present circumstances, but I generally pride myself on being faithful.”

She sounded so forlorn that Michael felt a twinge of sympathy—and guilt. “We can’t always control who we’re attracted to, sweetheart,” he murmured.

Her lips twisted cynically. “That’s such a typical male thing to say. How many poor women have you fed that line?”

He bristled. “It’s not a line. It’s the damn truth.”

“Riiight.” Still clutching the sheet to her body, she drew her knees up to her chest, as if she needed another barrier between them. Suddenly she looked very small and vulnerable in the enormous bed.

A surge of protective tenderness rushed through Michael. “Did someone cheat on you, Reese?”