Return to You

royally
screwed.

Chapter Twenty-four
     
     
    Hands on her hips, Olivia glared at the clock. Where
was he? She paced her room, careful not to tread on top of the
picnic she'd laid out on the floor.
    Pathetic. She dropped onto her bed. Here she was,
still wearing her work clothes, waiting for some guy she didn't
trust to show up.
    Okay, he wasn't just some guy. He was the love of
her life.
    "Former love of my life," she corrected herself.
This fling was going to cure her of their past.
    And—damn it—she wasn't waiting any longer. Bending,
she plucked a grape from the picnic and began to unbutton her
blouse.
    The window slid open and Michael's head popped in.
"You're late," she said curtly.
    "I know. And you're angry, but I'll make it up to
you." He swung his leg over the frame and closed it when he was all
the way in. "Nice outfit."
    She crossed her arms across her chest.
    He strode to her, took her in his arms, and dropped
a kiss on her forehead. "I'm sorry I'm late. I had a good
reason."
    "What?"
    Michael dug in a jacket pocket. "I needed to stop to
get this. You wouldn't believe the trouble I went through to get
it. I thought it'd be an easy stop at the drugstore but I had to
stop at four stores before I found what I was looking for."
    She looked at the hand he held out. Nestled on the
center of his palm was a small yellow duck.
    "Your rubber ducky." Michael smiled at her but it
was tentative and reminded her of the Michael of her youth.
    "A rubber ducky," she repeated.
    "For your baths."
    "I gathered."
    "I got this too." He pulled out a small mason jar
from another pocket. He didn't make a move to touch her, but the
heat from his eyes was more tangible than any touch would be.
"Chocolate sauce. I craved dessert."
    Her smile widened into a grin. Taking the two steps
to close the distance between them, she put her hand on the nape of
his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair, and kissed him
soundly.
    She heard the soft thump of the jar dropping onto
the bed and in the next second his arms were around her, holding
her as if he never wanted to let her go.
    He lifted his head. "Not angry at me anymore?"
    "Depends." She nuzzled his neck, her lips lingering
over the spot where she could feel his heart beating so
strongly.
    "On?"
    "How good the chocolate is."
    He grinned and steered her until the backs of her
legs hit the bed and she toppled backwards onto it. "I think the
chocolate is going to be the best you've ever had."
    "That sure, are you?"
    "Damn right, baby."
    She loved the way he ate her with his eyes. She
scooted back and stretched. Crossing her legs, she wiggled her foot
to draw his attention to her high heels and stockinged legs. She'd
never figured out why men loved stockings and heels so
much—probably because they didn't have to wear them—but she'd
gladly use them to her advantage.
    She moaned as he slipped off her shoe and rubbed her
foot. His thumbs worked out the tightness from wearing the shoes
for too long.
    She moaned again. "Heaven."
    He moved on to her other foot. "We might have to
make you more comfortable before I go on."
    "I'm yours to command."
    "I never have a tape recorder when I need one."
    "Don't push your luck." She prodded him with her
foot. "More."
    "Exactly."
    She watched his hands as they unbuttoned her dress
shirt. He did it slowly, drawing it out until she waited for each
button to pop open with her breath held. His hands never brushed
her body. Her nipples tingled with need and she had to keep herself
from arching up to make him touch her. "Are you doing that on
purpose?"
    "What?"
    "Trying to drive me crazy."
    "Is it working?"
    "Hell yes."
    "Good." He pushed her shirt open, running the back
of his hand down her neck to the top of her breasts and then down
her abdomen to brush over her lacy thong. "There are advantages to
owning a lingerie store, aren't there?"
    "I have an arsenal, and I'm not afraid to use
it."
    "Thank God for that," he said fervently before he
peeled the bra straps down her arms. "Help me with this."
    She reached behind her and unsnapped it. He pulled
it off her and tossed it across the room. Her panties quickly
followed.
    Olivia lifted her right leg to roll her stockings
down but Michael's hand stopped her. "No. Leave that."
    She raised her brow but didn't argue. She was much
more intrigued with what he was going to do with the chocolate in
the jar he'd retrieved and was unscrewing.
    She arched when she felt his fingers drag down the
center of her chest.