Scarlett entered the room, closing the door quietly behind her while she simultaneously balanced a tray in her hands. It was an impressive feat and showed she’d been working in restaurants for some time.
He raised an eyebrow as it dawned on him how silent her movements were. “What time is it?”
“The middle of the night, almost two I think.”
Placing the tray down in front of him on the bed, she lifted a napkin off the top of it.
“I kept it warm so it might be a little dry. I had to make do with Cole’s stuff here.”
On the plate was what looked like a meal for a king: steak with a side of some Spanish looking rice and mixed vegetables. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten this well. These days he was always eating on the go, picking up takeout, or grabbing whatever he could on his way out the door.
Using the fork and knife she’d left on the tray, he cut off a piece of the steak and placed in it his mouth. There was nothing dry about it. It was cooked to perfection and the juices of the meat filled his mouth and stimulated his taste buds. “Gods, this is good.”
Faster than he would normally consume a meal, he stuffed himself full. Every compliment he gave it made his mate blush or grin. It was a great feeling, considering that he wasn’t exaggerating. It really was that good.
When he was done, he leaned back on the headboard. “Who taught you to cook?”
“This is New Orleans. Everyone can.”
He laughed. “Seriously, who taught you?”
“There was a shifter, she died a few years ago, she could really cook and she used to let me watch. I guess I just picked things up.”
“It’s a gift then because I could watch someone cook every day for the next two years and still burn water.”
With a grin on her face, she swatted at his arm. “That’s not true.”
“Trust me, it is.”
He smiled at her, feeling real contentment for the first time in a long time. It was nice to sit and look at her for a while. It was splendid to…
Without another word, Scarlett leapt on him pressing her soft lips against his and the dishes of food and tray went flying. Startled, it took him a second to respond but then he kissed her hard. She made a small sound in her throat before kissing him back.
The world became Scarlett. There was nothing but her mouth against his, nothing but the sounds she made, nothing but the smell of her scent in his nose. Running his hands through her long hair, he could feel each strand as it touched the pads of his fingertips.
Scarlett placed her hand on his chest and caressed the hair at the top of his chest. He shuddered under her caress, a sensation he still hadn’t gotten used to. It was amazing.
This woman, this tiny little woman, had power over him like no other being in the universe.
And he loved it.
“Michael.” She pulled her head back to speak to him. Her eyes burned with fire and he wondered if she knew it. “I want to do this. Please, can we do this?”
“Are you sure?”
“I don’t know that I’m ever going to like it only I’d like to try with you. Maybe I’ll finally understand what all the fuss is about.” She looked down. “Gods know just looking at you does strange things to my insides.”
He knew that feeling too well. He’d been hard as a rock since he’d met her. Stroking the side of her face with his hand, he smiled.
“No time like the present to discover each other.”
She grinned and he kissed her again.
Chapter Eight
Scarlett wanted him. She was sure about it. For the first time in her life, she was going to give into what her body wanted and not be terrified of the consequences.
She wasn’t sure what made her feel so brave.
Maybe it was thinking Michael was dead when Todd carried him in. Maybe it had reminded her how short life could be. Maybe it had been the way he had eaten her food like he’d loved every bite. Maybe it was the way his woodsy sent made shivers go up and down her back. Maybe it was just Michael being Michael.
As her mate moved his hands beneath her shirt she decided not to question it.
She didn’t need to undress him because he was already naked under the covers, which meant all she needed to do was get the covers off him. She tugged them down, exposing his chest and the upper part of his abdomen to her perusal.
Michael’s skin seemed to dance beneath her fingers. Wherever she touched it, she could feel goose bumps pop out. She loved running her hands over his chest and from the way he made growling noises in his throat, she was certain he enjoyed it too.
He kissed like he lived his life, with intensity. Most of the men she’d had the unfortunate luck to be intimate with, were all tongue and no concentration. It was always a dirty, nasty business. A combination of bad breath and lack of interest.
But Michael was sweet. He smelled delicious and when his tongue played in and out of her mouth in a joyful tangle with hers, she was happy to let it go on forever.
He hadn’t shaved since she’d met him and the slight growth of dark whiskers on the deep planes of his face dug sensuously into her skin. There was something so masculine about it.
Pulling back, she squeezed both his cheeks in her hands. He raised an eyebrow and she smiled.
“Can you keep your whiskers like this?”
He smiled, a broad tooth-filled grin. “I’m sorry. If I don’t shave, I’ll have a beard and if I do shave, it doesn’t stay like this. But I can try to shave say once every three days, which will give you this level of growth twice a week.”
“Thank you.”
It was, she had discovered, just easier to thank Michael for all the wonderful things he did. He was going to do those things and there was no arguing with him. If she suggested he shave at his discretion, he would still do it once every three days. Just to please her.
His swift hands unbuttoned her shirt and pulled it off her, discarding it somewhere on the floor. It was one of three shirts she owned and usually she was meticulous about keeping it clean. Right now, she didn’t care.
Scarlett knew her breasts were small. She had eyes, and even if she’d been clueless, she’d heard it enough. Waiting for the laughter she’d received in the past, she was stunned when Michael’s eyes got big instead.
“Beautiful.”
She shook her head. “Tiny.”
“Scarlett, if you were any bigger, you’d topple over. You’re what? Ninety pounds?”
She weighed more than that but his point was made. She was small framed.
She unhooked her bra—not that she ever really needed one, it was more a modesty thing than a support device—and let what little of her there was fall free.
Michael leaned back against the headboard and pulled her until she lay against him.
With his hands, he grasped her breasts gently.
“See, sweetheart, they fit in the palms of my hands. They’re made for me.”
Her cheeks heated up. “If you say so.”
“I do.”
Well, all right then. She couldn’t think any further as he rolled first one and then the other nipple through his fingertips. Pain that immediately turned to pleasure travelled her spine. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation of feeling something on her own terms.
Even this far along she knew if she told Michael to stop, he would.
Which was exactly why she didn’t want to tell him to do anything but to keep going.
Michael replaced his fingers with his mouth and Scarlett’s eyes shot open. She saw the top of his head as he suckled at her breast. Running her fingers through his brown hair, she stroked the back of his neck, stopping where his hair met his neckline and then back up again.
Finally, she had to speak. “Michael, that feels so good.”