She was looking out of the window now, her thoughts clearly a million miles away, and Mike realized that, rather selfishly, he wanted her attention back on him. He really needed to sort himself out. The problem was, he decided, that he was overcomplicating everything. The other problem was that he wanted to stay safe and alone and unhurt, but also couldn’t stop noticing the way Sophie moved. The curve of her mouth when something delighted her. The smell of her skin.
‘Do you need to go back to work?’ Sophie said. ‘Now that you’ve had tea?’
‘I should,’ Mike said. He really should. He’d built a bit of a reputation on getting things done fast. He wasn’t behind on this project yet, but he wasn’t ahead either. It wouldn’t take too much to lose ground. Yet the idea of going back to work left a decidedly sour taste in his mouth. ‘But I don’t want to. Taking care of Lee wore me out.’
‘That poor man.’ Sophie scrunched up her nose which, heaven help him, continued to be the cutest thing he’d seen in years. ‘Do you think he’s okay?’
‘I think he’s better at home than he was at work,’ Mike said. ‘I can’t imagine going in to work like that.’
Sophie stood, stretched, and turned towards her living room. He caught a flash of the skin at the small of her back. He wondered how it felt. Soft – he bet it was soft.
Mike shoved himself off the counter, following her into the living area and sitting across from her on the couch. ‘What about you? How are you doing on the work front?’
Sophie gave a little shrug. ‘I’m fine. A post ahead, actually. The last few got a lot of responses,’ she added, with a quirk of her lips. You’re a popular addition.’
‘Will you post about today?’
She tilted her head to the side. ‘Maybe? Not with names, though. I took a few pictures of the food, but I generally don’t post negative reviews unless there’s a very good reason. Like if something is unsafe.’
‘I would classify that meal as unsafe.’ He shifted on the couch so that he was turned towards her, one arm resting on the back. ‘Whoever created that menu should be forced to eat it.’
‘They must have, to create it in the first place?’ It was her turn to shift in her seat, readjusting herself to get more comfortable. Was she sitting closer now, or was that just Mike’s imagination?
‘There’s nothing to say they have to eat it just because they made it,’ Mike said. ‘It’s not like it’s a legal obligation.’
‘I can’t believe I spat it back out.’ Sophie gave a little laugh and rolled her eyes. ‘It’s a good thing we weren’t on a date. That would have been mortifying. Nothing so sexy as your date coughing back up a bite of mystery meat tart.’
All the other words Sophie said seemed to sink slowly into the conversational ocean, except for the word ‘sexy’. That one bobbed up high like it was its own little boat, and Mike responded without thinking. ‘I don’t think you could do a single thing that I wouldn’t find sexy.’
Sophie’s mouth, which had opened to say something, snapped back shut. Mike felt his pulse shoot up. It had been a stupid thing to say. Reckless. Possibly disastrous, especially in light of their agreement. But honest, no doubt about that.
‘You’re joking, surely?’ Sophie said quietly.
She was throwing him a metaphorical rope – an easy out. Smile, laugh, shrug it off as a joke. Stay safe. No risks at all.
But no rewards, either.
Fuck. It.
‘I’ve never been more honest in my life.’ Mike could almost taste his own pulse now. He could hear the echoing drum in his ears. His skin felt hot, and he wanted . . .
He wanted.
He wasn’t sure who sprang forward first. It didn’t really matter. What mattered was her body in his arms. His mouth sliding over hers, hovering, his tongue delving deeper. She tasted like tea, like lemon, earthy and tart. He growled low in his throat, tugging her forward until she was in his lap.
Sophie squeaked, surprised, but didn’t pull away. He plunged one hand into her hair, angling her head so he could kiss her deeper. With his other hand, he gripped her hip, encouraging her to settle in against him. Her weight felt so good, his palm moving with a will of its own, dipping back to caress the round globes of her arse.
Mike groaned, pulling away from the kiss to trace her jaw, her cheek, with his lips. Brushing his mouth over her brows, then back to her lips. She welcomed him, her hands in his hair. Her cool fingers sliding along the heated skin at the nape of his neck. She whimpered, a soft uncontrolled sound, making Mike feel like a king. A god.
The kiss became a frenzy. A thing of teeth, of tongue, a movement of pure sensation. He dipped down to her throat, licking the skin there, listening to her sharp, panting breaths.
She clutched him to her, rolling her hips.
Now it was Mike’s turn to whimper, the movement feeling so unbelievably good. His hand slid up the back of her shirt, his fingers playing along that skin he’d caught sight of earlier. He’d been right – it was soft. Hot and silky. He wantednothing more in life than to press his teeth to that spot – not enough to leave a mark, just enough to make her arch her back.
She was yanking his shirt out of his waistband, her own fingers searching for skin.
Her touch was a relief. A cooling rain on a hot night. Something both visceral and necessary. It feltvital.
