Page 66 of Embracing the Beat
WEST
“What is this about again?” Michaela lifts her head from my shoulder, giving me a curious look.
Our lazy Saturday was a success. The only time we left the bed was for food and a shower. Snuggling and watching TV—my choice—are the only things on the agenda today. I’m not ready to go back to work tomorrow.
I drop a kiss on her forehead.
“The Blue Planet? You’ve never seen it?”
“Not around TVs very much.”
Sometimes I forget. Her life is so different from mine. She’s only here temporarily. Once her record label tells her to, she’ll be going back to California. In six months, I may or may not be unemployed…again. She could be with anyone. But she’s here with me. My arm tightens around her almost automatically.
I don’t want her to go.
She squirms next to me, and I relax my hold.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay. It didn’t hurt,” she says.
“You were moving around.”
She drops her hand to my thigh, tracing along the crease until she’s palming me through my lounge pants. I go from apologetic to turned on in the space between two heartbeats.
“It didn’t hurt,” she repeats, curling her fingers slightly, and stars pop in my vision.
Now I fidget under her attention and understand.
“You keep it up and we won’t be watching anything, and lazy Saturday will bleed into lazy Sunday.” I grip her wrist, but can’t make myself pull her away.
“I don’t see the problem.” The words are whispered against my neck as her lips trail up to my ear.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to ignore the urge to give in, determined to do something with her that does not involve a part of my body buried inside her. With a deep breath, I gently pry her hand loose, tangling my fingers with hers.
“I’m going to start the episode now,” I murmur. But I can’t help but drop my lips to the pulse point in her wrist first.
“Okay?” She studies me for a moment, then shifts away, and I tighten my arm again, holding her to me.
“There isn’t a problem.” I refer to her comment a few minutes ago. “I wouldn’t mind it at all.”
“So why—?”
“As much as I want to forget the movie and fuck you until you can’t move”—her breath catches at my words, and I need to remind myself I have a but at the end of my statement—“I want you for more than your body, Michaela.”
Her face softens at my words. After the last two weeks, I get the impression that the things I want—to learn about the adult version of her, to talk to her, make her laugh, bring her flowers—are all new experiences for her.
“Watch.” I gesture to the screen in front of us as the familiar theme starts, followed by the beginning narration by David Attenborough.
I can’t count the number of times I’ve seen it, but it has the same hypnotizing power over me every time, and I’m excited to share it with the woman cuddled against my side. I glance down once about halfway through and find her eyes are riveted to the screen. Her pale pink lips are parted, her eyelashes long as they sweep along her cheeks. With her messy bun and zero make-up, she’s the most beautiful I’ve ever seen her.
She must feel my inspection, because she glances up, a small smile playing on her lips.
“What?” she asks.
“You’re beautiful.” I lift my hand to stroke my thumb down her cheek as it heats.
Time seems to stop, the sound of the TV fading until all that’s left are the two of us as we stare at each other. She reaches for me as I dip, and our lips connect like we’ve been kissing for years instead of weeks. But it’s brand new too. The heat is still there, but…more. Deeper somehow.
