He remained silent. The answer was locked inside him, she thought. And like her, he’d have to face his private demons. Sooner or later.
* * *
Mike stood in the entryway to Carly’s kitchen, eavesdropping on his chef for the evening. She stood, hands on her hips, staring into an oversized lobster pot.
“Call me a coward, but I can’t do it.” She brushed her bangs off her forehead with her fingers.
He grinned as she glanced from the wriggling lobster on the counter to the boiling pot on the stove. “Can’t do what?” he asked.
“Drop live lobsters in there. I thought I could, but I can’t.”
Mike glanced at the counter where two lobsters moved languidly in plastic bags. “Dinner?”
“Only if we boil them alive.”
He chuckled. “Why don’t you go outside for a while? I can handle things in here.”
She glanced into the steaming pot. “They scream.”
“What?”
“When I was younger I went to a friend’s house for dinner. Her older brother took a lot of pleasure in informing us that if you listen carefully you can hear their high-pitched screams before they die.” She shuddered.
“You don’t believe that.”
“Not anymore, but I did. I was ten. I had nightmares for weeks.”
“Boys can be cruel.”
“Yeah. So can men,” she said.
“I’ll give you that.” He leaned over and kissed her soft cheek, then gave her a playful swat on the behind. “I’ll handle this.”
“I owe you one.”
He met her gaze. “And I fully intend to collect.”
She turned for one last look into the lobster pot .Mike snuck up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face in the expanse of skin at her neck. Her vanilla-like scent was permanently etched in his dreams. Reality was much sweeter.
She stiffened at his initial touch but relaxed against his insistent nuzzling at her ear. His hands splayed across her stomach. Every ounce of willpower he possessed went into keeping them below the round swell of her breasts. He pressed his lower body into her back and was greeted by her soft moan of pleasure in response.
He wanted to turn her around and bury himself inside her. He wanted to see her face when he entered her heat for the first time. He wanted all those things and more. But he didn’t deserve them. Not when he couldn’t give her all she so obviously needed.
He wanted to step back but needed her warmth and closeness for a minute more. Then he’d let her go. A yellow gauze dress ended above her knees and her bare back had turned a deep bronze courtesy of the sun. Her skin felt warm and welcoming to his touch.
He steeled himself to back off, but she turned. Any progress he’d made dissolved like a sand castle under a crushing wave. Eyes glazed and face flushed with desire, she looked disoriented and unsteady. He reached out a hand to support her and immediately noticed that her nipples were drawn tight beneath the flimsy fabric.
Without conscious thought he brushed one distended peak with his thumb. She swayed toward him, and damned if her knees didn’t almost buckle. Control deserted him, and all good intentions along with it. Any thoughts he’d had of restraint vanished. He knelt down and replaced his hand with his mouth, suckling her through the material of her dress. She braced herself by grasping the handle of the stove.
He bit down lightly. She murmured his name at the same time her legs gave out completely. Mike reached for her, supporting her until she was able to stand on her own.
“You’re a hazard in the kitchen,” she said in a husky voice.
“Look who’s talking. Dress like that and expect results.” He laughed and she joined him. For the first time she didn’t pull back or appear to mentally berate herself for her desire. Progress? A start? Or just an aberration? he wondered.
She pointed to the large metal pot. “You have lobsters to cook,” she said in an unsteady voice.
“Then get going... before I get distracted again.”
Carly didn’t miss the desire in his gaze and opted to bolt for the deck. She kept herself busy setting the table, opening a bottle of wine and contemplating the wisdom of inviting Mike for dinner. She’d convinced herself she could get to know him without any complications. He’d been in the kitchen all of thirty seconds and common sense had deserted her.
The last time in her apartment, she’d been devastated by the fact that when she should have been seeking comfort, she’d only felt desire. Now while seeking to prove to herself that she could exert self-control, it all but deserted her.
What would happen if she gave in? a little voice in her head asked. Gave herself over to Mike, to passion, to all the emotions she’d taught herself to fear? The answer came easily and without thought. She’d fall in love... if she hadn’t already. And then what?