It's In His Kiss (17 page)

The words played like a mantra in her head as she pulled her eyes away from the front of his jeans. She lay back down.

 "Cat? Something wrong?"

 "No, no," she said quickly. "Not at all."
Boy was this a stupid idea.
The two of them, alone, with nothing around them but the silvery moonlight and the crickets. 

 Her body thrummed with awareness. Her breasts tightened. Some part of her wondered if she'd suspected this would happen if they came to the lake, where some of their best times had been. Was this the reason Michael had refused to come last night? So why had he suggested it tonight?

 
Friends. We're friends.
 

 Cat pushed aside her dangerous train of thought. She stared up at the sky, tracing the familiar constellations. "Remember how we used to lie out here and talk?"

 "Sure. We probably solved every problem in the universe, from right here. You even said once you were going to do a controlled study on the benefits of world leaders negotiating with each other while lying on their backs staring at the stars."

 "I'm still convinced it would work."

 "It's not impossible."

 Michael's warm, rumbling voice transported Cat back to those wonderful days, when the two of them had been closer to each other than to anybody.

 "When was the last time we did this?" she whispered.

 Michael didn't answer.

 "Oh, I remember," Cat said. "It was that last Christmas break. It was freezing, but we were determined."

 "You were determined. I'd have been just as happy in front of the fireplace."

 "I didn't want anyone to hear us."

 "Right, because you were talking about your mother, again."

 "Why do you say it like that?"

 "Just that you complained about her all the time."

 
Complained?
Cat frowned. "Gee, that's funny. I thought you understood. Anyhow, I had a right." 

 "Did you?"

 Cat couldn't say anything for a minute. The crickets chirped all around them.
Did you? Did you? Did you?
She sat up. "What are you trying to say, Michael? Why don't you just spit it out?" 

 "Did you ever stop to think about your mother's life? What it was like? How bad she had it?"

 "Bad?" Her laugh sounded hollow, even to her own ears. What was Michael saying? "Have you forgotten that she was never, ever there for me."

 "Why not?"

 "What?"

 "It's a simple question."

 "Okay. She wasn't there for me because she was busy chasing men. She kept getting married. She didn't want to stay home with me."

 "I doubt that."

 "Oh please," Cat snapped. "If she'd wanted to be with her only daughter, then why wasn't she?"

 "Maybe she couldn't. Maybe that was the reason she was searching so hard for someone to marry."

 "What? What are you talking about?"

 Michael sat up, his gaze searching Cat's. "What did your grandmother think of your mother?"

 "Gram? She was busy, being there for me. She didn't approve of my mother's constant boyfriends."

 "No. I'm sure she didn't."

 Cat sat up and glared down at him. "I swear, if you don't get to the point I'm going to push you into the lake."

 "Right. You and what three ex-fiancés?"

 She recoiled, and for the life of her she couldn't think of a retort to his hurtful comment.

 "I'm sorry, but I just wish you'd think about your mom's side of the story."

 "Think about
her
side? Mother--excuse me, Janice, running around getting married all the time? I've thought about it. Just like that last Christmas we were here. She had just divorced the vending machine guy." 

 "Yeah, and you were steaming."

 "Well, she had no business getting married if she didn't know what she wanted. She was always
so sure
the latest guy was the one, and then boom, before you could say 'how was the honeymoon,' she'd divorced them." 

 Michael sighed, then leaned up on his elbow. "So you decided to stop at the engagement, instead?"

 She winced, as if he'd hit her. "
Ouch.
Testing some new Low Blows? Why are you being so mean?" she asked tightly. 

 "Maybe you should talk to her. Like I said, get her side of things."

"She won't talk to me. She's off getting ready to get married again."

"Yeah. It looks like she's getting
her
life together." 

 "And I'm not? Is that what you're saying?" Cat sat rigid, waiting for his answer. He wasn't playing fair. This was supposed to be their special place, their safe place. "What's the matter with you tonight?"

"I think the question is what about you, Cat? What's the matter with you? Are you really so wrapped up in yourself that you can't be happy for your mother?"

"I'm happy for my mother," she retorted.

"Really? Because you sound resentful that she's getting her life together and you're not."

"Who says I'm not?" Her eyes stung. Michael had never been this mean to her.

"You."

"I never said that."

"Look, I'm not going to argue with you about what you did or didn't say. You know what you said. But tell me. If you're so incensed about your mom's marriages, what's the deal with all your engagements?"

"That's different."

"Different? How? What did you see in those guys? Why did you get engaged? Why did you break up?"

Cat lay there, on the pier, thinking about her three fiancés. Jeff, Johnny, and David. What had she seen in them? For the life of her, right now she couldn't remember.

"Cat?"

She stood, and leaned on one of the bollards, looking out over the water. Her throat closed up. "I didn't mean to hurt them," she croaked.

"I know."

She heard the boards creak, felt Michael standing behind her. She couldn't turn around, couldn't look at him.

"I really thought I could love them. I wanted to. A lot."

"I know."

"I didn't want to end up like my mother. I wanted to wait, to be sure. But each one of them, in his own way, made me think I could love him." She stopped.

Michael put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed, but she shrugged off his touch. She couldn't take it right now.

"I tried so hard. You can't know, I don't think they ever knew, how hard I tried. I wanted to be married. I wanted to be--" her breath hitched. "Loved."

She sighed and turned around. Michael was watching her with a wary expression on his face, as if she were a wild kitten and he wasn't sure whether she'd run away if he moved.

She smiled sadly at him. "I brought them here."

Michael's brows went up.

She nodded. "I did. I brought each one of them out here, and we lay here and looked at the stars." She spread her arms to the sky. "Do you know how much I love the stars?"

"Yeah," he whispered. "From the first time I met you. You were always saying you wanted to go to the center of the galaxy, where there are so many stars they would light up the nighttime like day."

Cat smiled at him and tears gathered in her eyes. "See. Now
that's
what coming to the lake is all about." She sighed and let her arms drop.  

"Jeff could never get over being jealous of you. Isn't that a riot?" She laughed. "Johnny didn't last very long. Poor Johnny. He never understood anything. We weren't really even engaged. He wanted to give me his mother's ring, but I wouldn't take it. Then he started noticing a woman where he worked, and I just sort of graciously stepped aside."

 "But David--." She sat back down on the pier, and Michael stretched out beside her, his hands behind his head, his face shuttered.

 "David could have been the one. He had everything I wanted, everything I needed. He's funny, smart, he's got a great job. His family is big, and close, and normal, not to mention rich. He wants kids, someday."

 "He sounds perfect," Michael commented blandly.

 Cat nodded. "He thought I wasn't committed to the relationship."

 "Were you?"

 She shrugged. "I think I could have been very happy with David. I wanted so badly to get married. Then I could show –" she stopped, wincing at the words that had escaped from her mouth.

 "Show? Show who, Cat? Your mother?" Suddenly Michael's voice hardened. He sounded angry. "This is getting boring."

She blinked rapidly, and looked down at her hands. "Michael, you're being mean. I thought you understood. I thought you were the one person I could talk to, the one person I could depend on."

 "You mean
good old Michael, always the same
?" 

 She looked up at him, angrily dashing away the tears that had slipped down her cheeks. "You make it sound like an insult."

 "It
is
an insult. I'm not just 'good old Michael,' you know." 

 She sniffed, and wiped her cheeks and nose. "That's true. You're different since you got back. Harder. It used to be comforting to be with you. You made me feel safe and secure."

"That's me. Good old safe, steady Michael."

"No, it's not. Not any more." She raised her gaze to his, and saw the veiled hunger that seemed to always be in his eyes these days. "Right now I don't feel safe at all."

He leaned up on one elbow, never taking his eyes off her. "How do you feel?" he said, his voice a rumble that she could feel as well as hear. Why hadn't she ever noticed how sexy his voice was?

"I um, feel confused, scared. Kind of fluttery and out of breath." She licked her lips and Michael's gaze flickered down to her mouth.

"Self-conscious," she whispered, acutely aware of his attentive gaze.

He reached out and brushed a tear off her cheek with his thumb, then touched her lower lip.

 "Sexy--." She mouthed the word, her lips moving against his thumb.
Oh, no
! She straightened, pulling away from his touch. "Well, I think it's time to go, don't you? I'm sure you need to get up early tomorrow. I know I do." 

 "It's Friday night," Michael said quietly but firmly. He'd known what would happen if they came out here, to the lake, where their best times had been. It was why he'd turned her down the first time she'd suggested it. Back at the apartment, he'd gotten accustomed to walking around in a state of frustration, wanting Cat, needing her, but staying, for the most part, within his self-imposed boundaries.

 Out here, under the stars, with her eyes catching the light of the moon, and her sexy, curvy body enticing him from under that flimsy cotton dress she had on, he was fast losing control. He'd waited a long time for Cat to see him as more than just
good old Michael, always the same.
 

 Yeah, he'd known what would happen. He was intensely aware that his frustration had reached the boiling point. There were only two places for this much tense energy to go--lovemaking, or one doozy of an argument.

He kept trying to work up the anger, but it couldn't hold a candle to the sexual tension, which stretched between them like a tightly wound spring. Was he ready to risk everything, just for a chance to touch her?

What was the worst that could happen? He'd end up without her? That had very nearly happened three times already. He had nothing to lose.

Before Cat could get her feet under her to stand up, he encircled her waist and pulled her down beside him.

 "What are you –"

 He put a finger against her lips. Their faces were mere inches apart. She stared up at him, and he saw the confusion, the doubt, and the touch of fear in her wide, expressive eyes. "Don't say a word, Cat. Not a word. There's something I've wanted to show you for a long time."

 Cat took a breath and opened her mouth.

 He put two fingers against her lips. "I said not a word." He traced the two fingers down her chin to her neck, then around to her nape, where he caressed the wisps of hair that curled there.

 He fought to control his breathing, as he touched Cat the way he'd wanted to for years. Acutely conscious of his immediate, rock-hard arousal, he pulled away from her slightly. He wanted this to go slowly, to give Cat time to get used to his touch.

 Letting his fingers trail down to her collarbone, he held her gaze, and the fear in her eyes began to fade. "That's right, Cat. Go with it," he whispered raggedly. His fingers drifted lower, until he touched the top of her breast. Her breaths came short and sharp, as he ran his fingers along the side of her breast, then underneath, feeling warm, naked skin under the cotton.
No bra
. He gritted his teeth as a spear of desire sliced through him.  

 She caught his hand, but she didn't stop him. Her hand rested against his as he brushed his fingertips across the tip of her breast. She gasped.

 "Oh, what are you doing?"

 "Shh. Didn't I tell you not to talk?" He teased her nipple with his fingers until it became taut and hard, then he teased it some more. His mouth watered to taste it, to pull it slowly between his lips and suck on it. His arousal ached, as it strained against the denim of his jeans.

 He groaned.

 Cat moaned quietly, her lips parted invitingly, her eyes dewy and soft.

 Michael touched her lips with his, lightly, teasingly. When she lifted her head to reach for his mouth, he did what he'd fantasized about doing, he kissed her deeply, delving his tongue between her teeth and tasting what he'd denied himself for so long.

Cat couldn't believe the sensations he was coaxing from her with his mouth and fingers. She closed her eyes and gave herself up to pure sensation. It was as if she had lost all her will. Her skin knew nothing but the feel of his kiss. Her senses smelled and tasted and saw nothing but him.

 At some point he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her body up against his. The zipper on his jeans caught on the thin material of her dress. The hard planes of his chest tortured her sensitized nipples. His thighs were rock hard, his hands pressed her against him, his insistent kiss bent her backward. 

 Then her fingers were entangled in his hair and her tongue was meeting his. She lost herself as she sank all her senses into him, immersed in the wonder of his male body, his unique scent, the silky rough feel of his skin and hair.