Carly Phillips - Lucky Streak

That same desire had enveloped him from the moment he walked into his apartment and found her nearly naked on his bed, as well a yearning he’d been tamping down during the visit to his father’s, watching her accept Edward as if he and his descented skunk were normal. He’d felt it again as she’d held his hand during the hour-long ride home in silent understanding.

“My wife?” he repeated her words.

She nodded. “Legally.”

He started toward her in a deliberately predatory way. “If you’re going to insist on calling yourself my wife, I’m going to want something more from this marriage than the aggravation I’ve had so far.”

She met his gaze without backing down. “I think the time we spent in your hotel room was pretty darn good.” Her eyes widened. “I’d even call it aggravation free, if you ask me. Don’t you agree?”

The memory of consummating their marriage was potent and his body hardened at the reminder. It suddenly didn’t matter that she’d betrayed him. He still wanted her as badly as that first time.

Wanting to make sure she understood his intentions, he stood over her chair, grasped the armrests and leaned over her, his lips inches from hers. Her warm, feminine scent tempted him, aroused him, drew him in.

“We have unresolved issues,” he said, staring into her beautiful blue eyes. “The money and the marriage.”

“I know we do. But you need to know I didn’t want to leave you and I came back-”

He didn’t let her finish, cutting off her words with his lips. She was his wife and she was willing and he kissed her hard and deep, branding her as his.

Amber kissed him back, but let Mike take charge. She wasn’t going to pass up the chance to be with him again, to remind him how good they were together. To feel it for herself.

His large hands cupped her face and he tipped her head, giving his tongue better, deeper access to her mouth. He thoroughly claimed her, leaving no place untouched. All she could do was hold on to his shoulders and feel.

His hands slid from her face to her neck, his thumbs caressing her skin, tracing the line of her collarbone, his fingertips moving lower to the swell of her breasts beneath her T-shirt. He teased her with his touch, dipping lower, but not quite touching where she needed it most. The throbbing tips of her nipples pressed harder against her shirt, begging for him, while moisture trickled between her legs, building an empty, aching pressure only he could fill.

She arched her back, silently imploring him to stop teasing her with featherlight strokes of his hands on her breasts.

He raised his head and met her gaze, his eyes dark and intense. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice gruff. “You need to tell me.”

She swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest, desire swamping her, yet not fulfilling her needs. “You. I want you.”

“I want you, too,” he said, not sounding at all pleased with he admission.

“And it makes you angry that you do.”

A muscle ticked on the side of his face. “That about sums it up.”

She knew it would take time for him to believe in her again and that was okay. That he still wanted her was enough. It gave her something to work with.

“One step at a time,” she told him, referring to their relationship. “Then you’ll see how good things between us can be.”

Never breaking eye contact, she took his hand and placed it on her breast. Over her shirt and through her thin bra, his touch burned and aroused her, but she was more concerned with breaking through his self-directed anger. He wanted her and was furious with himself for it.

“One step at a time. Starting here and now,” she said, encouraging him.

He curled his hand tighter around her breast. She felt her nipple tighten, turn rigid against his palm. Unable to control her reaction, a low moan of satisfaction rumbled from deep inside her. She watched the fight he waged within himself and she saw the minute he lost the battle.

The angry tension in him eased. He kissed her again, more gently, more accepting, yet still demanding in intensity. She shifted her body and his hips settled around hers, the hard length of him fitting directly between her thighs. The thick, bulging pressure hit her at exactly the right point and she moaned aloud.

His hands cupped and molded her breasts while, attuned to her other needs, he rocked against her, each thrust of his body bringing her higher and closer to a fast-coming climax. She needed to feel him harder against her and bent her knees, seeking more intimate contact.

Without warning, the chair tipped back and Mike lost his balance, nearly toppling over her and onto the floor.

“Oh my God, that scared me half to death,” she said. “Are you okay?”

Mike drew a deep breath, still trying to calm his twisting stomach. “Too damn close to a roller coaster for my peace of mind.”

She met his gaze. And laughed.

They’d been both caught off guard and the shock of being jolted back by the recliner interrupted the moment, yet it sent her into a fit of laughter.

He began laughing, too.

He couldn’t remember the last time a makeout session had turned into something fun. Amber, her blue eyes dancing, her curls a mess around her face, gave the most normal things a unique spin.

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Too funny. I thought for sure you were doing a header over the chair.”

“With our combined weight, I’m surprised I didn’t.”

“Mike?” she asked, no longer laughing.

He stood beside her. “Yeah?”

“You left me hanging. You?”

He shook his head and grinned. “Yeah, I’m a little unsatisfied myself.” He scooped her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom where he had protection stashed in the back of one of his drawers.

He lowered her to her feet by the side of the bed, which was still-stupidly-covered in cold hard cash. He began to scoop it up and toss it into a bag, trying like hell not remember that she’d walked out on him. At least, not now, while his body still throbbed with need. Finally he finished and placed the bag aside. He’d organize it and take it to the bank first thing in the morning.

He turned back to Amber and discovered she’d undressed. And Amber nude was enough to make him forget all his misgivings.

He couldn’t draw his gaze from her rounded curves and incredible beauty. With her damp lips and tousled hair, she looked like sex personified. It took him only an instant to shed his clothes, grab and roll on a condom and meet her in the center of his bed.

He laid back against the pillows and let her take control, which she seemed only too happy to do. She swung one leg over him and while holding his hands and staring into this eyes, she lowered herself over him.

She was dewy and wet, ready for him. Her body accepted him, inch by hot inch. He lay still, letting her set the pace. And though he wanted to take it slow, savor how tight she was around him, he needed to feel more of her and he thrust upward until they were joined together in the deepest possible way.

The sensations quivered throughout his entire body and he let out a low groan. “You feel so damn good.”

Her eyes were wide and heavily glazed as she managed a nod. Her hips began to rotate, clenching him tighter in her heat. Her eyelids fluttered closed. As he thrust in and out again, she picked up a familiar rhythm. One that belonged to them alone.

He had a second to realize that sober sex with Amber was a helluva a lot different from the last night they’d spent together. Hotter. More intimate.

And then his body couldn’t wait and he began to push upward, inside her, searching, reaching higher. Thought fled. Only feeling mattered.

She matched him thrust for thrust, grinding into him. She moaned and the sexy sound brought him higher, closer. Somehow he held off until she came-her body milking him for all it was worth, her soft cries triggering his release.

But it was the sound of his name on her lips that caused everything inside him to burst open. Taking him up and over with the strongest, sweetest climax he’d ever experienced.

They lay in silence, the only sound his heart pounding in his ears. He rose and headed for the bathroom. When he returned, he climbed back into bed. Amber curled around him as if she’d been sleeping beside him for a lifetime.

“Mike?” she asked sleepily.

“Yeah?”

“Next time you’re on top,” she said, tossing one leg over his, and immediately falling asleep.

His wife locked him in for the night. In his bed, in his apartment, in his home.

What the hell was he going to do with her?

MIKE AWOKE to the smell of coffee. He knew immediately where he was and what he’d done. A quick glance told him the bag with the money remained in the corner of the room, but was his wife here, too?

If so, they needed to have a talk about their divorce, something he had no choice but to pursue. He couldn’t remain with a woman he didn’t trust enough to be certain she’d be around in the morning.

He climbed out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans before walking to the kitchen. The sound of pots and pans clattering told him Amber hadn’t bailed on him and sure enough, she padded barefoot around his kitchen, humming as she cracked eggs into a bowl. An overwhelming sense of relief mixed with pleasure as he watched her work in his kitchen, once again wearing nothing but his shirt.

Considering the conclusion he’d come to moments before, he pushed away the fact that he liked having her here, chalking it up to good sex the night before.

Not just good sex. Great sex. His body jolted alive at the memory.

He cleared his throat.

She turned to him with a big smile on her face. “Good morning!”

“You’re still here.”

The light dimmed in her eyes, but she kept the smile. “I told you I would be. So how do you like your eggs?”

Now that he was sure she was here, he was suddenly in no rush to have the divorce conversation. But the longer he stalled the more difficult it would be. “Surprise me.”

“Why don’t you go shower,” she said, waving a fork in the air as she spoke. “Breakfast will be ready when you’re through.”

He paused, torn about when to discuss their future. She looked so pleased with herself that he couldn’t hurt her again by bringing it up just yet.

“Don’t worry. All the silverware will be here when you return,” she said, turning away from him. “Now go.”

He winced. Still, all through his shower, he reminded himself she was feeling bad because of something she’d done, not him. It didn’t help his guilt.

A short while later, they shared fluffy Spanish omelets made with ingredients she’d obviously found in his refrigerator and delicious hot coffee.

“You make a mean omelet,” he said, complimenting her while shoveling the last of his breakfast into his mouth. “It’s delicious.”

“Thanks. I used to cook breakfast for my dad when I was growing up. He liked my Spanish omelet so I thought you might, too.”

Conversation remained light, topics like Boston weather and what time he had to leave for work flowing easily between them.

Mike waited until they’d finished eating to bring up the discussion he knew they had to have. And when he couldn’t stall anymore, he decided it was time. “Amber…”

“Mike…”

He chuckled at their timing. “You first.”

She met his gaze. “Well, I came here on the spur of the moment and I didn’t pack my things. I don’t have a suitcase or clothes…” She studied him with doe eyes, making him feel responsible for her yet again.

And damned if despite it all, he didn’t like it. He exhaled a slow groan and weighed the possibilities. He could give her his credit card and be taken for a fool again or he could hand her limited cash and hope she was telling the truth.

“I’ll give you some money and you can pick up what you need for a couple of days.” He saw the opening for a serious conversation and took it. “As soon as I have some free time, I’m going to look into a quick divorce.” That had been to the point, he thought, disgusted with his lack of tact.

He wiped his mouth with a napkin and rose to clear his plates off the table. Maybe if he kept busy, he wouldn’t see the hurt in her expression or shock in her eyes. He sure as hell had the bitter taste of the words on his tongue.

Amber wasn’t surprised by Mike’s declaration, but despite his intentions, she wasn’t letting him go that easily. In order for her to see if she and her husband had a future, she needed some time being his wife.

While making breakfast, she’d formulated a plan that would put herself in the center of his life and give him a chance to get to know the real Amber.