Sinful Nights: Sinful Love Part 27

He shook his head, taking the suitcase and shutting the door behind her. "It would be criminal for you to stay anywhere else."

She glanced around, drinking in his home for the first time ever. His was spa.r.s.e and neat. A wide gray L-shaped couch overlooked a glittering view of the city. A metal coffee table was littered with magazines, papers, and a silver laptop. In a cabinet was a huge TV screen, and a stereo system perched beneath it. She suspected Michael listened to music more than he watched TV. On the walls were framed photos of his family. His brothers and sister, a black-and-white border collie, and a picture of Michael and his father from many years ago.

But her interest in the setting waned quickly. She had more important matters on her mind, and in her heart.

"Did you get my letter?"

"I did. I loved it," he said with a simple smile.

And that was all it took. She was unleashed. She was free. She'd flown across an ocean to surprise him, she'd come to his home to tell him her heart, and she was no longer going to let her fear of losing rule the day.

"I love you," she blurted out, standing in the quiet entryway of his home.

The corners of his eyes crinkled. "You do?"

She nodded and couldn't stop the grin from bursting across her face. "I love you, Michael. I just do."

"You're not just falling in love with me?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"I'm. In. Love. With. You." She took her time enunciating every word, then she held his face in her hands. He sighed happily and closed his eyes. She tilted her chin to kiss him, brus.h.i.+ng her lips on his. "I love you. Now answer the question."

He broke the kiss and scratched his head. "What was the question?"

"Will you let me?" she asked, playfully imploring.

He tapped his chin as if considering her request. Then he laughed and tugged her close. "Yes. G.o.d, yes. h.e.l.l yes. And I'm sorry if I handled things poorly in Paris. I'm sorry for being distant and pulling back. I'm just so consumed with you, and I don't want to be your second best. Your runner-up."

She shook her head. "You're not. I have a big heart. There is room in it to love again, fully and deeply. I don't want it to be a compet.i.tion, Michael. All I know is this," she said, slowing her words, meeting his gaze. "I love you, and because of that now I'm terrified of losing you. Even so, I won't let that stop me from feeling everything with you. Because I do feel everything, and I want to keep on loving you. Just let me love you with all I have."

He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing as he nodded. "Yes. It is always yes with you. You're all I want. Now and always."

"The same," she whispered. "It's the same for me with you."

She pressed a kiss to his chest then traveled up his neck, layering his throat with kisses, his jaw, his ear. She nibbled on his earlobe, and he groaned. Then he scooped her up in his arms, strode across the hardwood floors of his apartment, kicked open the door to his bedroom, and set her down. Whispering sweet, dirty words, he stripped off all her clothes as she took off his s.h.i.+rt.

"I missed you," he said, his voice soft and vulnerable as he pushed her red panties to the ground.

"I missed you, too."

He slid a finger between her legs, gliding across her aching p.u.s.s.y. "And I missed f.u.c.king you."

"G.o.d, I missed that so much, too."

"And making love to you. And hearing you come. It's my favorite thing in the world-making you come," he said, dipping his head to her neck, sucking on her flesh as he rubbed his finger across her hot center. "The sounds you make. How you say my name."

She gasped. "I love it all with you. I want it all with you."

"Now?" he asked in a s.e.xy growl.

"Now, please now," she said, begging as she unzipped his pants and he kicked them off.

"Show me how wild you are for me," he said, rough and commanding as he sank down on the bed, patting his chest. "Here. Ride my face, my love. I need you to come on my lips before I f.u.c.k you."

Sparks zipped across her skin as she climbed over him, straddling his face. With strong arms, and a ravenous look in his eyes, he pulled her onto his mouth, and kissed her wet p.u.s.s.y.

"Oh G.o.d," she cried out, and in seconds, they found a rhythm. She rocked against his face, and he gripped her hips, his strong fingers digging into the flesh of her a.s.s as he devoured her.

He wasn't teasing. He wasn't playful. He was a hungry man, and he was eating her. With each lick, a savage pleasure tore through her body, twisting and coiling inside her. She thrust against him, moaning and f.u.c.king his tongue. With her hands braced against the wall, her hips moved in a frenzy, and he devoured her p.u.s.s.y, sucking, kissing, licking until she was mindless with pleasure and aching to come.

Then a hot flush raced over her skin, and desire curled inside her, shattering in a white-hot, neon burst in her body. His name tumbled from her lips as she cried out.

She barely had time to come down from her high when he s.h.i.+fted her off him, tugged her down the bed, and spread her legs wide. He stroked his rock-hard d.i.c.k, staring at her legs. "So beautiful. You taste so f.u.c.king good. I want to eat you all the time. I want to have you in every way," he said, then lowered himself between her legs and sank inside.

In one deliciously intense thrust.

Her eyes rolled closed and her back bowed. "G.o.d, it's so good."

He pushed, thrust deep, then lowered his chest to hers. "So f.u.c.king good. And do you know why?"

"Because I love you," she answered in a murmur.

"Because I f.u.c.king love you, too."

And that was it. That was why she was in another world with Michael Sloan, f.u.c.king, and falling, and loving, and living, and feeling. So much feeling. Every nerve snapped, every cell blazed, everything else faded as he f.u.c.ked her with so much pa.s.sion, so much need, and so much love that she nearly burst. She wanted him now, she wanted him always, and she wanted him to know that he was hers, and she was his, and she would give him everything. As the pleasure built inside her again, nearing another crest, she tugged him even closer, whispering in his ear. Nothing complicated. Nothing artful. Just the three simple words that she knew he'd longed to hear. She'd never known anyone to love so deeply, so intensely, and she wanted him to have everything he wanted.

Her.

She could finally give him herself.

"I love you," she gasped, as another o.r.g.a.s.m crashed into her, and he f.u.c.ked her through it, chasing his own release.

"Well, that was a h.e.l.luva surprise," he said minutes later, flopping on his back next to her in bed.

She laughed. "Glad you liked it."

"My favorite surprise ever," he said, then rolled to his side, resting his head in his hand. He traced a line down to her waist. "So Sophie helped you plan this?"

Annalise nodded. "She's quite a romantic."

"She seems to be." He sighed. "Just wish I didn't have to work at all while you're here. I have so much exploring to do," he said, traveling across her stomach with his fingers, letting her know which terrain he meant. "I want to do everything with you," he whispered, squeezing her rear, letting his meaning register.

She met his gaze with wide, earnest eyes. "Anything," she said in her s.e.xy vulnerable voice. "You can do anything with me." Then she stopped and raised a finger. "Well, maybe not pee on me or anything like that."

Cracking up, he tugged her close and planted a kiss on her collarbone. "Yeah, not that. Definitely not that."

"But as for you having to work..." She dragged a finger down his sternum.

"What about it?"

"I have this photo shoot, but Sophie talked to Ryan," she said, her tone conspiratorial, like she was sharing a secret in high school.

"And what did Ryan have to say?"

"Apparently," she said, running that finger across his abs now, "Ryan asked Mindy to help out so you could have a few days off."

"But Mindy has a job."

Annalise shrugged. "I guess she's moonlighting for Sloan Protection Resources to help a friend. Besides, she told them that you introduced her to the new man in her life, so she was happy to help you see the woman in yours."

A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Mindy was a good friend. Sophie was a fantastic soon-to-be sister-in-law. Ryan was a great brother. He was a lucky son-of-a-b.i.t.c.h to have so many good people in his life.

"Sounds like a lot of people like you," she said and then straddled him, pinning his wrists in her hands, the ends of her red hair tickling his chest.

"I'm a likeable guy. And look at you. You like me, too," he said, playfully.

"I do like you. I'm in love with you, Michael Sloan." Before he could respond, she tilted her head, as if considering what she'd just said. "Michael Sloan," she repeated, like his name was new to her. "Funny. The first boy I fell in love with was named Michael Paige-Prince. Now I'm in love with this Michael Sloan fella."

"Same guy?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Same. But different, too," she said, and with a sharp burst of clarity, he understood completely what his sister had meant-understood it because he felt it deep within his bones, all the way through his blood, and right into his heart.

CHAPTER FORTY.

With the Thomas Paige investigation closed, and both T.J. Nelson and Luke Carlton headed for trial, John Winston had taken on a few new cases, digging into another complicated homicide that demanded his attention.

With a crack-of-dawn run behind him, he headed into the office before seven, ready to tackle the workload.

But as he studied the evidence folder at his desk and downed his cup of coffee, something nagged at the back of his mind. A little detail that he couldn't quite fit into a neat box. Not from the new case, but from the old one.

Something didn't entirely add up. As he hunted for his case file, his phone rang.

"Detective John Winston here," he answered.

"Hey, Winston. This is Special Agent Laura K. Reiss with the FBI, Las Vegas division. We've got a case we're working that might have hooks into one of yours."

John returned to his chair, spun around, and said, "Tell me more."

"I'm betting this place has amazing breakfast potatoes because the fries I had a few weeks ago were out of this world," Michael said as he held open the door to the diner where he'd met Morris recently. It seemed almost a lifetime ago.

"Can't wait. I'm famished," Annalise said after she told the hostess they needed a table for two. The woman in the pink dress showed them to a booth, and Annalise ordered a coffee.

After the waitress vanished, Annalise flashed him a smile. She was radiant this morning-freshly showered, barely any makeup on, and her hair swept into a clip on her head. Then she yawned. "Jet lag."

He nodded. "I think we'll both be dealing with that a lot these days."

"We definitely will."

Even though he wished it were possible to see her more, he would take what he could get. He would live off the little morsels of time they were able to carve out. Maybe someday they could find a way to be in the same city more regularly. For now, he at least had faith in the two of them, and that was a beautiful thing.

"So what brought you here a few weeks ago?" she asked, after they ordered eggs and the waitress brought coffee. "This diner isn't exactly down the block from your home."

"The private detective I hired wanted to meet here to share some leads. The info about the piano shop that helped break the case open."

"Ah," she said with a nod, reaching for her mug.

He picked up the tea he'd ordered. "And you were amazing in helping us put the final pieces together."

She shook her head, as if it were no big deal what she'd remembered. "It was nothing. Just a tiny bit of memory. But I want to hear more about how it all went down. We didn't talk much about it in Paris. I sensed you didn't want to get into the details then, but you know me. I'm always curious."

He smiled. "I do know that about you."

And so he started the story.

As Michael spoke about the night of the last arrest, a memory tugged at the back of her mind. It was of her last conversation with his father.

The morning before she left Las Vegas, she'd gone out to breakfast with Michael and his dad. They'd discussed plans for how the two of them could see each other again. She'd always loved that about his father. He was so supportive of their young love. They'd ordered eggs and toast-standard diner fare. She didn't remember the name of the diner, but it wasn't this one.

It was so odd that a little more than twenty-four hours later, he was gone.

She shook her head briefly, chasing away the memory.

"And one of the gang members they'd already nabbed had tipped off the cops about where T.J. had been seen," Michael said, when a faint buzz sounded from his side of the booth.

"Is that your phone?"

He glanced downward, patting his back pocket. "Yeah. I'll get back to whoever it is," he said, then continued the tale, and she tried her best to focus on what he was saying, but her mind kept tripping back to that day in the past.

Conversation with Thomas had been easy, even when Michael went out to the car to grab an umbrella. Rain had started to fall, and he said he didn't want her to get soaked when they left the restaurant after breakfast.

"He's so chivalrous," Annalise said to his father. "He takes after you."

Thomas smiled. "He's a gentleman. Makes me proud."

"How is everything going at work? Were you ever able to sort out the missing details you were looking into?"