Page 63 of Embracing the Beat
More. I want more.
Until three weeks ago, I could honestly say I wasn’t a fan of sex—I had better luck getting an orgasm from my vibrator than a partner. Until West. Since that first night in my room, the smallest touch, the briefest of looks, is all it takes. And I don’t think it’s one-sided. If he and I are in the same room together, he usually finds some way to touch me. The touching leads to kissing, and the kissing leads to orgasm after mind-blowing orgasm.
If an orgasm delivered by him is a drug, I am an addict who doesn’t want to surface.
He spins me suddenly, pressing me back against the counter, his hands landing on either side of my hips. As big as he is, his strength doesn’t scare me. The opposite. It makes me eager about what might be next.
He claims my lips, immediately deepening the kiss as his hands cup my jaw. The heat builds between us, and I press myself tighter against him, groaning at the friction of my breasts flattening against his chest, the way my body softens against his hardness. He tempers the kiss, teasing me with chaste brushes and a smile when I finally flutter my eyes open.
My hands are clasped around his neck, while his rest on my hips. Right now, in this moment, this is what happiness is. And it’s worth the last six shitty months—hell, the last eighteen months—to be in this moment with him.
“Hi,” he whispers, dropping his forehead against mine. “What’s the matter?”
“Matter?” I look up at him. His face is lined with concern as he studies me.
“You’ve been crying.”
The problem with knowing West forever? He can tell that something’s wrong just by looking at me.
I shrug, trying to play it off. “Nothing.”
“Michaela,” he murmurs, lifting his hands up to cup my shoulders. “You’ve been crying. I’d really like it if you told me why.”
With a sigh, I drop my forehead to his chest, breathing deeply. “It’s fine. I…I heard from the attorney earlier.”
“He finally returned your messages?”
“Yeah.”
“What did he say to make you cry?”
“It doesn’t look like I can get out of my contract with Reverb,” I whisper.
He hugs me tighter, his lips dropping to my hair. “Aww, baby, I’m sorry. I have total faith in you though. You can work out the rest of your contract with them and then do your own thing. I’ll be here every step of the way.”
I want so badly to tell him why I can’t go back to Reverb. But I don’t. Instead, I burrow against his chest.
“Thank you for my flowers.”
“You’re welcome. I didn’t mean to distract you from your—” He peers over my shoulder at the cutting board. “Tomatoes?”
“Salad,” I correct. “I woke up this morning and really wanted a salad.”
“This morning, huh? The first or second time I woke you up?” His voice drops to a growl, and a throb pulses low in my stomach.
He’s insatiable. It’s not uncommon for him to wake me up in the middle of the night, or after his alarm goes off, his fingers or tongue bringing me to the brink of ecstasy. Waking up to an orgasm? That’s a method I can get behind.
“Neither,” I say, pushing against his shoulder. “When I actually woke up without you next to me in bed.”
He smirks, his expression a patented way to make my panties damp. “You won’t have to worry about that tomorrow.”
“Lazy Saturday?” I’m ready to spend an entire day in bed with him and his talented fingers.
“If I can finish the basement tonight, absolutely.” He drops a kiss to the end of my nose and steps back, heading for the stairs. “I’m going to go change. Will you come down and keep me company?”
“Of course. Eat first?”
“Only if you’re the main course,” he murmurs, and a blush heats my cheeks.
