MICHAEL
Brooklyn, New York. Friday, May 24, 8:30 AM ET
MICHAEL DRAPES HIS ARM around Sienna, consoling her in the small recording studio inside the San Francisco safe house. He’s taken her over to a small love seat, the only piece of furniture among the microphones and musical equipment. She feels so good, fragile, and warm, fitting against his chest like she belongs there. Instinctively, he tightens his arm around her delicate shoulders.
He brushes a piece of her silken black hair behind her ear, and tips up her chin to see if her tears are gone. He can’t bear to see her cry. Her tears sidestep his defenses, resounding with the broken pieces of himself that he keeps securely hidden.
She lifts her gaze. Her sky-blue eyes, surrounded by wet spiky lashes, lock on his. His eyes drift down to her rosy lips, only inches from his. A single breath hangs in the air between them. Before he can think, he leans in and kisses her. At first, his lips melt softly into hers, and then, overtaken by an uncontrollable passion that has been building since they first met, he increases the pressure. His tongue parts her lips, hungrily deepening the kiss. Desire flares inside him like a flash fire, coursing through his veins with white-hot heat.
“Michael…” she moans, responding without hesitation. Michael draws her closer. Reaching down along the slender curve of her back, he presses her into the hard muscles of his chest. His breath comes in ragged pants as his desire suddenly overwhelms his senses, unleashing a primal urge inside him.
Without warning, every internal alarm sounds, freezing him in place. His inner voice screams that he isn’t worthy—that he’s damaged goods.
She cups his cheek, and her eyes graze his lips before licking her own. “I want you, Michael.” Her free hand caresses the hollow of his spine above his backside, sending chills over his skin. His fingers clutch her silky hair with longing, releasing the scent of jasmine. More than anything, he wants to believe her.
Coward, he chides himself. She’d never want you if she knew the truth. The scent of cinnamon fills his senses, nearly crippling him with shame. He fights back hard with every fiber of his being.
No, she’s different, another part of his brain counters. It won’t matter to her, you’ll see. Prove you’re worth something.
“Are you sure?” he whispers and holds his breath.
Her fiery gaze locks on his and she kisses his lower lip. Nuzzling her cheek next to his, she whispers back. “More than you know.”
Her warm breath on his ear sends a shiver down his spine, and the dam breaks inside him, flooding him with the courage to push down his debilitating doubt. His muscles relax. If this is what she wants, he was hers for the taking.
“I want you, too,” he confesses, his voice deep and gravelly. Gently, he pushes her back onto the sofa and leans over her.
Her eyes are welcoming and filled with anticipation. Here like this—beautiful, desirable, and vulnerable—there isn’t a man in his right mind who wouldn’t fall all over her. He’ll show her what she does to him and how much he wants her. He’ll give her enough pleasure to erase her fears. Enough pleasure to keep her from looking too deeply inside of him.
No more thinking. He lifts the clingy, low-cut shirt over her head and tosses it to the floor. His breath hitches as he looks at her with yearning. He’s denied himself for too long.
Reaching around, his fingers find the clasp on her bra and unhook it, releasing her firm breasts—perfect handfuls.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says quietly, glancing up to see the shy smile on her lips.
Her tanned nipples stand erect and waiting, calling for him to taste them. They should be savored, he thinks.
Glancing over at his wine, he dips his fingers into the glass. Dripping with a fine Sancerre, he reaches down and rolls the taut peaks between his wet fingers.
She closes her eyes and arches her back, moaning with pleasure. His groin fills and tightens.
He leans in and hungrily licks and sucks the wine from her breasts, kneading them with his fingers and passing his thumbs over the hard tips as his hands and mouth work in tandem. Her delicate skin tastes sweet on his tongue underneath the cool sharp taste of the wine.
She lets out a small cry and threads her fingers into his hair.
“I need to see the rest of you,” he breathes. Leaning back, he pushes up her skirt and, in one fluid movement, removes her thong. His gaze slowly travels up her long, shapely legs before settling in between them.
“Mmm.” A sound of approval rises from his throat at the intoxicating sight of her. She is almost fully bare. He hasn’t seen a woman with a Brazilian since he modeled. From this vantage point, he has a clear view to her delicious folds, wet and glistening, as they call out to him like a siren’s song.
His erection swells to capacity, screaming for release from inside his jeans and threatening to exit through his waistband. He reaches down to his belt, but she’s already there, unbuckling it with astounding speed.
Before he can react, she takes him firmly in her grasp, and her mouth engulfs him in warm bliss. His breath comes in panting gasps as his nerve endings nearly explode with need.
“No. Not yet.” He moans low in his throat. Gathering every shred of control he has, Michael carefully extracts himself from her grip.
She shoves his clothes to his ankles. Stepping out of his pants, he kicks them aside and quickly removes his shirt.
A mixture of vulnerability and lust flashes in Sienna’s eyes. “Take me, Michael, right now.”
He’s only too happy to comply. But he wants to taste her before he buries himself into her wet heat. Gently, he pushes her back onto the sofa.
Returning to his wine glass, he takes half a sip and dives down onto her, mixing the crisp wine with her wetness and drinking it. He revels in the silky softness of her inner thighs against his cheeks and her musky sweetness on his tongue as he explores her cleft and soft, sexy folds.
Her head drops back, and a curtain of black hair shimmers behind her. She cries out and grasps his shoulders. “Please, Michael, don’t make me wait!”
The husky voice that rises from his throat surprises him. “I won’t.”
He shifts off the sofa and rises to stand, settling between her thighs. As she lies open to him, he wraps her legs around his hips and pulls her onto his swollen shaft. His body quivers the moment he enters her warmth. Wet and tight around him, he eases into her to ensure he doesn’t hurt her before sinking himself in deep. The feeling blows his mind, turning him into a mass of pure sensation and forcing his eyes to clamp shut. His jaw goes slack and he releases a guttural sound of pleasure he doesn’t recognize.
Afraid to come too quickly, Michael controls his thrusts, memorizing every silky contour. Sienna tightens her legs around his hips and coaxes him in faster. Picking up speed at her urging, his toes curl into the rug to keep him upright as his knees weaken with each satisfying stroke.
Head thrown back, a low growl escapes from his throat as the exquisite pressure of release mounts inside of him with each rock of his hips. His fingers firmly grasp her thighs, his forearms flexing with each inward thrust. He can’t imagine Heaven feeling better than this. And right now, there’s no place on earth he’d rather be than buried inside Sienna. He glances back down, meeting her heavy-lidded gaze as she watches him wearing a look of pleasure.
“I won’t break. Don’t hold back,” she breathes. Her words almost snap his control.
Time to bring her home.
Still joined, he sinks back onto the sofa and positions her beneath him. Caressing her face with his fingertips, he traces a trail over her cheekbone and down over her soft, parted lips. Her beauty both stirs and inspires him. He presses his mouth to hers, their tongues meeting in a sensuous dance for a deep, penetrating kiss.
Breathless, he breaks away and grits his teeth, willing himself to hang on to seek out the spot he knows will drive her wild. Changing his angle with a small rotation of his hips, he hits home and smiles when she screams and her body pulses around him.
Something exhilarating and unfamiliar shifts inside of him.
Unable to hold back any longer, he slides his hands to her waist and increases his pace, surrendering to the moment. Thrusting fast and deep, his stomach muscles bunch with each stroke as her wet heat surrounds him in a tight handshake, setting his nerve endings ablaze in ecstasy. One last thrust and his thick shaft kicks wildly inside her as he explodes.
“Sienna!” he screams, not caring if the whole world hears him. His body shudders with pleasure for what feels like an eternity. Spent, he collapses down next to her, breathing hard.
Wearing a satisfied smile, she meets his eyes. “That was”—she gasps, trying to catch her breath—“amazing.”
“You inspire me,” he whispers back, his chest heaving. But that was only half true. More than inspire him, Sienna strips away his inhibitions and allows him to fully express himself without a care or worry. How she does that, he doesn’t know, but he’ll take it.
Closing his eyes, his lips find hers, needing to taste another kiss. Then he recognizes the unfamiliar feeling coursing through him… a feeling he hasn’t experienced in more years than he wants to count.
Happiness.
The buzzing alarm clock shattered Michael’s bliss-filled dream. He woke up covered in a thin layer of sweat with an unrelenting hard-on. Deep disappointment hit him in the chest—like it always did—after he dreamt of Sienna. What he’d do to make something like that real…
“Ugh,” he mumbled, kicking off the wet, sticky sheets. He hoisted himself out of bed and padded naked down the hall toward the bathroom in search of a cold shower.
This made the sixth dream with Sienna in the San Francisco recording studio since their kiss eight weeks ago. The dreams usually ended at the moment of climax. In this one, he got to linger in the afterglow.
Too bad the hottest sex he’d ever had was while he was unconscious. Sienna may have provided a hot fantasy, but they were far from dating, much less having mind-blowing sex.
Michael grabbed a fresh towel from the hall closet, his dark brows drawn together in thought. He wished that he could actually let himself go like that in real life—without a care or hesitation. Or a condom.
What he’d told Simon was true: he was afraid to go there with her, or anyone for that matter. He wasn’t ready to lay himself bare… he may never be. But he couldn’t deny that he had enjoyed their kiss, which is all that ever happened. The dreams were another story. They took him to a place they could’ve gone had he not backed away. He wished… on second thought, better not to wish for something he may never be able to have.
Damn dreams. Because of them, the mere thought of her made him rock hard. He’d never experienced such a visceral reaction to a woman like he did with Sienna, conscious or unconscious. His super intelligent strategy? Avoiding her like a case of typhoid rather than dealing with it like an adult.
What a jerk, he thought with a shake of his head.
He turned the water to cold and jumped in, letting it chill his skin and kill his hard-on. Once his dick shrunk to half its normal size, he flipped the water over to hot.
He wasn’t exactly sure what his problem was, per se, when it came to relationships. Well, maybe he did. He just didn’t like admitting it. As long as nothing was expected of him—like with Cara—he was fine. Over the last couple of months, they had developed a very close friendship, which he’d welcomed. It was nice—refreshing even—and he didn’t have to worry. She’d never fall in love with him or ask him for more than he could give. No use denying it— whenever a relationship headed toward commitment, he bolted. Not for lack of caring or an inability to love, but out of terror—overcome with his irrational fears that his secret would be exposed.
Michael drew in a breath and fought back the revolting smell of cinnamon that rose up to torment him. Squeezing his eyes shut, he willed away the shameful reminder. Would his past ever release him?
Anger gripped his gut. This never happened with the ones he didn’t care about, the ones he dated under his “friends with benefits” policy. They knew the ground rules. Just sex. No commitments. No strings. For him, that meant no nightmares, no reminders of his past, just safe companionship.
Funny, he hadn’t called any of his “friends” since he’d met Sienna.
Michael paused as he ran the soap over his chest.
Then again, it wasn’t like he’d never had a relationship before. He’d had two. The first was with Deva, his high school girlfriend, now a friend and loyal employee. And a second with a girl named Cathy when he’d attended Yale. Both had ended with him hitting the self-destruct button.
He’d learned his lesson, sticking to nice girls who let him call the shots and ending things before he could fully risk getting found out.
He rubbed shampoo onto his hair, lathering it up. He’d been doing just fine until he’d met Sienna. Even with all the picking, prodding, and provoking she’d done during their trip to Connecticut back in March, he’d held his own until that morning on the porch… when she’d exposed his secret about his former modeling career and the Calvin Klein campaign to Cara.
It wasn’t so much what she’d found, but how she’d used it against him, making him feel violated and ashamed of an accomplishment he’d been so proud of. And then when she’d called him “pretty boy,” he’d almost snapped.
He sighed deeply, rinsed the shampoo out of his hair, and slapped on some conditioner.
As much as he wanted to avoid the mess he’d made with Sienna, the fact that she was Cara’s best friend meant chances were good they’d continue to cross paths.
He blew out a breath. It was about time he manned-up and confronted her. He’d keep his promise to Cara and talk to Sienna at the party tomorrow night. Honestly, the thought of doing battle with a demon caused him less anxiety.
Turning off the water, Michael leaned over to grab the towel he’d placed on the rack. Glancing down, he frowned at his naked, well-endowed body. If he could only be sure he wouldn’t be sporting wood the moment he saw her, he’d be just fine.
SIENNA
“Michael!” Sienna screamed, waking herself in the middle of a powerful orgasm.
Why can’t I have sex like that when I’m actually awake? she thought panting, and collapsed back against the pillow, deflated.
Ever since the kiss they shared in San Francisco, dreams of Michael provided nights of sweet torture. By her count, this was the sixth dream of them back in the recording studio. Too bad waking up meant dealing with reality and her hurt feelings.
Rather than keeping his promise to address what had happened, Michael had managed to sidestep any real conversation for their remaining time in San Francisco. Even so, something had changed between them after their encounter. A new respect and awareness, affection even, crackled between them. At least from her perspective. He’d barely left her side while Cara was unconscious in the hospital.
That’s what made it so annoying. They had reached a truce, yet he’d treated her like a leper… for two solid months.
The corners of her mouth dropped into a pout. Why do men promise things that will make you happy and then take them away? Everyone was happy, why not her? Didn’t she deserve to be happy?
She couldn’t bear telling Cara about the dreams when they’d had lunch. If Cara hadn’t pressed her, she wouldn’t even have told her about the kiss. How could she admit that she’d been having wet dreams that had surpassed anything she’d ever experienced in real life, with a man who’d been avoiding her for months?
Let’s just say, her lips were sealed. Well… at least one set of them.
Sienna closed her eyes and thought of the dream. Her heart skipped a beat and a rush of heat filled her lower body as she remembered Michael, moving himself deep inside of her and touching parts of her she’d never known existed.
The most shocking part wasn’t the sex, but that Michael had given himself over to her so completely. In real life Michael was a little… um… uptight. Or more accurately, he had a major stick up his ass. But underneath his tenderness that night, she’d sensed a strong passion trying to break the surface. Would having sex with him in real life be as good as in her dreams?
Hell if she knew. The only thing she could be sure of was that she’d be seeing him tomorrow night at Cara and Simon’s party.
She’d make sure she looked extra hot and bring her best game. Even if he didn’t speak to her the entire evening, he sure would know that she was there.