Storm Front (Reunited Hearts) (16 page)

But
she felt herself nodding anyway. “Yeah.”

Michael
put a hand on the small of her back—she could feel the warmth of his touch
through the fabric of her dress—and he walked her into the building.

They
went up the elevator to the top floor and then into his penthouse apartment. Allison
had never seen it before. She’d never imagined she would.

In
some ways, it was what she’d expected—high-end decorating, a sleek marble
entryway, and an aura of wealth and power. But the art and furnishings as she
made her way further into the home were not ultra-contemporary or impersonal.
There were centuries-old oil paintings and antique pieces rich with history and
character.

She
looked around but didn’t speak. Neither did Michael. He just leaned down to
unhook Ingrate from the leash. The dog immediately scurried toward what Allison
assumed was the kitchen.

They
followed more slowly. While Ingrate lapped at a large water bowl, Michael
poured out two glasses of red wine.

Allison
sipped hers, leaving the kitchen and wandering into the main living area. She
stared out through large windows at the illuminated cityscape.

Michael
joined her, looking out at New York as well.

She
figured they should talk. She wondered if he was still angry with her, if he could
possibly lower his defenses and realize the one lie she’d told wasn’t an
intentional betrayal. She wondered if he knew she wasn’t like Gina.

Then
she wondered why she cared about the answers so much.

He
turned toward her and his supple lips parted, but he didn’t shape a word.

Allison’s
breathing accelerated at the heated intensity of his blue-gray eyes. He took
her wine glass from her hand and set both of them down on the side table.

Then
he slid his fingers into her hair. His lips parted again. This time, so did Allison’s.
When he leaned into a kiss, she opened for him immediately.

She
wanted him. Wanted him desperately.

It
was why she’d come up with him tonight.

*
* *

Michael’s senses were
on overload as he fumbled with the zipper to Allison’s dress.

They’d
stumbled into his bedroom, still in their embrace, unable to pull away from
each other, even to walk or remove clothes.

Desire
surged through him, hardening his body and firing his nerve endings. When he’d
asked Allison up, he hadn’t been sure she’d accept. Now, he wasn’t sure what he
would have done if she hadn’t, if he hadn’t been able to bury himself in her
hot sweetness tonight.

She’d
pushed his jacket off over his shoulders and was working clumsily on the
buttons of his shirt. Michael stroked her mouth with his tongue and finally
slid down her dress zipper. He tore his mouth away so he could watch as the red
silk slipped down her curves to puddle at her heels.

He
hardened all the way at the sight of her fair, luscious figure, barely covered
by the flimsy bra and panty set she wore.

Allison
wasted no time in yanking off his shirt and tie, and her eyes were greedy as
she used her palm to rub the bulge at the front of his pants in a way that made
him groan.

When
he couldn’t stand it anymore, Michael pulled her into another kiss, unable to
get enough of the feel, scent, and taste of Allison. He lifted her ass until
she could wrap her legs around his waist, and he carried her to the bed that
way. He ended the kiss only when he eased her down on top of the covers.

He
stared down at her, breathing heavily and willing his body under control so he
could last long enough to please her.

“Michael.”
Her eyes were wild, and her voice was impatient and stretched thin. She reached
her arms out to draw him into the bed with her.

He
quickly rid himself of his pants and let her pull him down on top of her.

It
was so stimulating. So intoxicating. That she wanted him so much. Even now.
Despite everything.

She
writhed beneath him, her soft, eager body doing tortuous things to his already
battered control. He groaned as he stroked her warm skin and managed to focus
enough to trail kisses down her throat to her breasts.

He
teased her with his tongue through the lace of her bra until she arched and
whimpered. Then he unhooked her bra and pulled the fabric away, desire coiling
inside him even more fiercely at the sight of her bare breasts and tight, rosy
nipples.

He
lowered his head again and suckled hungrily, loving her breathless sounds of
pleasure and the way she restlessly tossed her head. She kept arching up into
his mouth, obviously wanting more stimulation.

When
she tried to hook her leg around his hip so she could rub her groin against
him, Michael released her breast and moved lower, mouthing her flat belly and
the lush curve of her hip.

Allison’s
fingers rubbed his scalp through his hair deliciously, and Michael’s skin broke
out in a hot sweat. Despite his own urgency, he pulled off her panties. Then he
nuzzled her intimately, pleasuring her with his tongue until her body shook
helplessly, the tension shattering as she came hard with his name on a taken
breath.

Drunk
with the erotic scent of her arousal and overwhelmed with both her passion and
her responsiveness, Michael adjusted himself above her and leaned down into another
kiss.

As
they kissed, Allison yanked down his underwear and took his hard, aroused flesh
in her hands. He closed his eyes and groaned as she massaged him with a perfect
rhythm.

Before
he lost it completely, he reached over to the nightstand and found a condom. He
rolled it on and positioned himself between her legs.

Michael
met her eyes as he thrust himself home.

Both
of them moaned hoarsely as her pliant flesh molded itself around him. Their
lovemaking fell immediately into a fast, hungry rhythm. Allison moved with him,
wrapping her legs around his hips and panting just as shamelessly as he was.

Michael
didn’t know why he needed this—needed her—so deeply, so completely.

But
he did.

His
whole world narrowed down to the jiggling bed, the intensifying sensations, and
Allison’s hot, sweet body beneath him, driving him out of control.

Their
sounds of effort and pleasure were wordless—rough grunts, thick gasps, and
helpless whimpers. But, as he felt his climax about to break, Michael gasped,
“God, Allison! Now!”

Allison
whimpered again, her whole body flushed and shaking. She cried out loudly as
her spine arched back and her body clenched brutally around him. “Michael,” she
breathed as climax overtook her.

It
was all that he could take.

With
a muffled roar, Michael let himself go, his hips jerking against hers in final,
urgent thrusts. His vision whited out as he came, and he collapsed on top of
her, burying his face in her fragrant hair.

Both
of them panted desperately as their bodies relaxed. Michael didn’t want to
move. He only pulled away long enough to dispose of the condom. Then he
collapsed back beside her and pulled her into his arms.

He
was torn in too many ways. He shouldn’t trust her. She was a reporter. She’d
lied to him. He didn’t even know why she was with him now.

But
Michael needed this, and he was almost convinced that Allison needed it too.

*
* *

Allison had fallen
asleep in Michael’s arms, and she was still there when she woke up. She felt
warm, cozy, and protected against his firm, relaxed body, and it took every
ounce of her willpower to gently roll away.

Once
again, Michael had given her a kind of pleasure she’d never experienced before.
But it was more than that. They’d hardly spoken at all, during the whole course
of their lovemaking, but it felt like they’d shared something. Something deeper
than sex.

But
she’d thought the same thing seven years ago. And she’d thought so a few weeks
ago when they’d been trapped in the middle of the storm.

And
she’d been crushed both times.

Michael
was still asleep. She stared at him for a minute. He looked younger, less
experienced, as he slept.

She
had a train to catch in a few hours. She had to go back home. Back to D.C. Back
to her life.

Foolishly,
she leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on the side of his mouth. Then she
quietly climbed out of the bed.

She
found her clothes and threw them on, making sure she hadn’t left anything
behind.

Then,
checking once more to see that Michael was still asleep, she silently slipped
out of the room.

Elizabeth slid into her
seat at a pub table in a trendy coffee bar and passed one of the mugs she
carried to Allison.

Allison
sipped her second cappuccino of the afternoon and tried not to act too droopy. The
gala had been over a week ago, but she hadn’t even begun to return to anything
like emotional normalcy.

She’d
known sleeping with Michael again would be a mistake. She’d known doing so
would destroy any chance she had of getting out of their relationship
unscathed. She’d known she would fall for him completely, when there wasn’t any
hope for a relationship.

And
she’d done it anyway.

Lori
and Elizabeth exchanged glances over their mugs, and then Elizabeth said
bluntly, “All right. Spill it.”

Allison
blinked. “What?”

“You
told us you fucked him again and that it didn’t mean anything, but obviously
that was a big fat lie.”

“Don’t
be mean, Elizabeth,” Lori put in, elbowing her friend reproachfully. Turning to
Allison, she added, “We just mean that obviously you’re kind of down, and it
might help to talk about it.”

Allison
released a sigh and gave up her unsuccessful attempt to act natural. “I’m
sorry. I’m a crappy friend. I didn’t mean to lie to you guys. I just hoped
that, if I pretended it was nothing, then maybe that’s what it would be.”

“That’s
never worked for me either,” Elizabeth muttered ruefully.

“So
making love to him last weekend
did
mean something to you?” Lori asked,
her romantic inclinations sharply attuned with obvious hope.

“We
didn’t make love. We had sex.”

Elizabeth
laughed, and Lori rolled her eyes as she objected, “I’m not sure I believe you.
You’ve been depressed since you got back. It did mean something—more than
casual sex.”

Allison
swallowed and admitted the truth to her friends and to herself. “Yes. It was
more than casual sex.”

“Well,
what’s the problem?” Lori demanded. “Why shouldn’t you two be together if you
both—”

“Wait
a minute,” Elizabeth interrupted, frowning. “Let’s not forget that this is the
same Michael Martin who’s acted like an ass on more than one occasion. He
screwed her and dropped her when she was only eighteen.” Before Allison could
object to this version of events, her friend pressed on, “And then he screwed
her and dropped her again because he got all huffy over one harmless lie. He
hasn’t turned into some sort of Prince Charming.” She eyed Allison
suspiciously. “Has he?”

“No.
Prince Charming he’s not. I’ve made a bunch of mistakes too, so I’m not going
to hold all that stuff against him. But this isn’t some great love story. He’s
a complicated man, and I…I like a lot about him. But I don’t see any
possibility for a happy ending here. He’s made it clear all long that he’s not
looking for something long-term with me. Even assuming he could ever get over
the little fact that I’m a reporter.”

“Psh!”
Elizabeth brushed that comment away with a wave of her hand. “That’s just his
stupidity, and he could get over that in a minute. I’m saying that it’s not a
question of your not being worthy of him. It’s a question of
him
not
being worthy of you. Is he or is he not a selfish, arrogant, narrow-minded,
heartless bastard who has treated you like nothing but trash?”

Allison
gasped, immediately riling up at the words. “He is not! He’s not heartless at
all—he’s protective of his feelings because he’s been hurt, and so he just
comes across that way. And he’s not really selfish. Yes, he can be—I mean, he’s
used to getting what he wants. But you should have seen him with the
demonstrators about the lighthouse. And with Ingrate. And he didn’t treat me
like a trash. He never made any pretense. He’s no teddy-bear or whipped puppy,
but at heart he’s really sensitive. And…and…sweet…”

She
trailed off, blazing with embarrassment as she realized how much she’d given
away in her fatuous outburst.

Elizabeth
burst into delighted chortles, and Lori's smile melted into an absurdly
sentimental expression.

Allison
stiffened. “You did that on purpose—to make me say all that ridiculous stuff.”

“It’s
not ridiculous if you mean it,” Lori said.

Elizabeth
nodded. “And we were both getting sick of your trying to be all stoic instead
of just admitting that you’ve fallen hard for the sweet, sensitive asshole.”