But Maggie Ryan was completely unsuitable for his lifestyle and his heart. She rejected any type of intimacy between them. He needed to get past this tangled mess of emotions and let her go.
He stopped in the doorway and stared.
She was asleep. Her head rested near Robert’s, their breathing deep and even, their hands clasped together on top of the blanket. A peaceful silence settled over the room, and for the first time, Michael greedily devoured his fake wife’s features, vulnerable in the slight shadow the night-light cast over her.
What was she doing to his family?
What was she doing to him?
Strange sensations bubbled up and grabbed him in a ruthless hold. He didn’t need this. Only forty-eight hours in her company and everything seemed different. He never craved to dig deep to learn about a woman before; usually they were only too happy to fall to their knees, thrilled about his money and looks and easy nature. Not that he was arrogant, but he always knew things came a bit too easily for him. Especially in the female department.
Until Maggie.
A smile touched his lips when she snored softly. The poor woman was exhausted. There’d been little sleep and too much running around. He glanced at his watch and noted his cousins would arrive home within the hour. Not much time left, but he didn’t want to leave her there on the floor with her legs curled up like a pretzel.
He disengaged her hand from his nephew’s and scooped her up with ease. She murmured in protest, then snuggled into his embrace. Michael smothered a curse, then swore he’d keep his hands to himself. He settled with her back down on the couch and stretched his legs out on the coffee table, propping himself up on a cushion.
Maggie grunted, then mushed her face into the crook of his neck.
He stiffened.
She took a deep, relaxed breath, as if she liked his scent, then opened her mouth and ran her tongue down the side of his jaw as if dying for a quick taste.
He cursed and bore down on his need to claim her lips and delve deep. Her hands ran up his shoulders, sank into his hair, and urged him forward toward her lips.
Hell, no.
“Maggie.”
She dreamily opened her eyes. Her gaze still reminded him of a cat’s. Piercing. Mysterious. And full of attitude.
“Wake up, cara. You fell asleep.”
“So tired.”
“I know, baby. Why don’t you close your eyes and sleep a bit before my cousins get home?”
He waited for her to slip back into slumber but she never blinked, just stared at him with a heartbreaking sadness that cut through to his heart. Unfortunately, another realization struck him like the weight of Thor’s hammer.
She had so much to give, but no one to give it to. She buried all those messy, writhing emotions deep in a hidden secret place and pretended she was okay.
As if she sensed his desire for more, the words hesitated on her tongue. “I’m so tired of being alone. Tired of not being wanted by anyone.”
Her words rocked through him like an explosion. Was she half-awake and had no idea what she’d uttered? And if so, would she despise herself in the cold light of day for revealing her secrets?
Hell, he no longer cared. He needed more—and his opportunities were few. He stroked her hair gently and she softened beneath the caress. “Why do you say that, cara?”
Silence fell. Her face shifted and he knew she was completely awake. He prepared for her icy retreat and excuses.
“Because it’s true. My parents didn’t want me. I tried very hard, but they didn’t love me. Then one day I thought I was in love. He told me I was special.” Stark pain ravaged her face, then smoothed. “But he lied. So I promised myself I’d never get hurt again. I promised I’d never be rejected again.” She paused in the shattering silence, then dropped her voice to a whisper. “And I haven’t been. I’m just alone.”
Michael tightened his hold. Her body sprawled out across his chest. Her lower lip trembled, then steadied with the truth that came from her lips. And in that moment, a wall crumbled between them—an inner glimpse of what made her choose such a path suddenly crystallized in his mind.
The need to drive away her pain took precedence as he cupped her face between his hands and lowered his mouth to hers. “You’re not alone now,” he murmured. “You’re with me.”
He kissed her. So different from the raw, carnal passion in their last encounter, the kiss shattered his soul to the very core. Her taste was pure sweetness as her lips opened under his, and her tongue met his with a humble giving that shook his body like a storm. He groaned and deepened the kiss, drowning in the silk of rose petals hidden beneath the thorns. She arched upward and let him in. He devoured her, claiming every slick, hidden recess of her mouth, then moved down her neck to nibble and bite, wringing shudders from her as she clung to him.
Michael readjusted his position and pushed her beneath him, deep into the pillows. Hip to hip, leg to leg, his erection pressed between her thighs, and she yanked the material of his T-shirt from his jeans and pushed her hands underneath the fabric. He uttered a half prayer, half curse at the feel of her warm palms tracing the muscles in his chest, the tiny bite of her nails in his back, the way she raised her legs to cradle him more intimately against her. Mad with the urge to strip her clothes off and take her on his cousin’s couch, he breathed deeply in an effort to calm his nerves. “We have to slow down, cara, or I’m going to take you here.”
He prepared himself for the chill once she came to her senses, but all she did was grip the back of his head and force his lips back to hers. Between deep, hungry kisses, her whisper raked across his ears. “I want you, Michael.”
The sound of his name squeezed him like a hot vise and he grew harder. He slid his hands underneath the full curve of her buttocks and lifted her up. She gasped as he rocked against her with teasing motions, but while he was busy, the loud snap of his jeans ricocheted in the air. “Baby, I think we need to—Dios!”
Warm fingers dove under his waistband and grasped his erection. Fireworks exploded in his vision, and he’d never been so damn happy in all his life that he didn’t like to wear underwear. She squeezed gently, then began pulling down his jeans to get more exposure and—
The door opened.
The sound of laughter cut through the scene like a bad sitcom. They both moved like naughty teenagers, removing hands and fingers, and adjusting clothing as his cousins bounded through the door. One look at Lizzie’s rosy cheeks and Michael bet they’d gotten reacquainted in the car. After all, if four boys was any indication of their lifestyle, he figured they skipped the token movie and went straight for the fooling around.
Michael sat up and pulled Maggie with him.
Brian’s grin widened. “Well, well, what do we have here?” He crossed his arms and clucked his tongue. “My four innocent sons are sleeping down the hallway and you’re conducting yourselves like an X-rated movie.”
Michael called him a dirty word, which only made Brian laugh harder. One look at Maggie’s face caused his cousin to frown. “I’m just kidding, Maggie.”
Her lip caught between her teeth, his tigrotta had lost her growl. She stood and shifted foot to foot, looking embarrassed, uneasy, and vulnerable.
Michael grabbed her hand and pulled her against him, snagging his arm around her shoulders. “Sorry, Bri, we’re both exhausted. The boys are fine. They trashed the house and I didn’t clean it up.”