Page 34 of Beneath the Scars
Heavy silence stretches between us. He wants to ask something, but isn’t sure if he should. I wait him out, knowing he’ll ask eventually.
“Are you sure it doesn’t bother you to keep this to ourselves for a while longer?” Michael’s face is set in a blank expression, as if he’s locked down his emotions in case he doesn’t like my answer.
“You know, I was thinking about that on my way over here. By keeping this secret, I get to have you all to myself for a while. The second we tell people, our relationship will no longer be just between us. While I have no doubt our families will be incredibly supportive, they’re going to stick their noses in it because they love us.”
Michael snorts as I continue, “After having feelings for you for so long, I think it’s necessary to build on what we’ve started without any outside interference. I don’t want to lie to anyone, but I think it’s for the best that we figure this out on our own first, before letting anyone else have a say in it.”
He gives me the softest look before leaning over to kiss me. It’s a gentle press of lips since our hands are still a mess. “I owe you an apology.”
My eyebrows wing up my forehead. “For what?”
“I didn’t give you nearly enough credit, Adalaide. I thought you’d never look at me the same if you knew about my darker predilections. I truly believed if you knew I wanted to tie you to my headboard and fuck you until you couldn’t walk, you’d run screaming from me.”
I shiver at his words. The images he just put in my head are distracting.
He smirks, seeing straight through me and my reaction to him. “That right there is one of the reasons I’ll be forever grateful that you were bold enough to tell me what you wanted. The way you respond to me is fucking incredible. Your courage has brought us here, and I owe you a lifetime of gratitude for it.”
“I’ll be cashing in on that lifetime, you know,” I tease.
“You better.”
The enchiladas go in the oven while Michael sets the timer. Thomas Rhett’s “Die a Happy Man” plays through the speaker on the counter, and I hold my hand out to Michael.
He looks at my hand for a long second before his eyes meet mine. Sheer reluctance lines his body, but his big palm wraps around mine. He presses my other hand into his pec before wrapping his arm around my waist. We sway to the beat of the song, and I soak up the way his body feels against mine.
Then Michael begins to sing along with the song in his deep baritone, the words quiet in my ear, telling me that as long as he has me, he’ll die happy. I swallow down the lump of emotion threatening to overwhelm me. I finally have everything I’ve ever wanted in this moment.
I lean my head back, needing Michael’s kiss more than I need air. He obliges with soft presses of his lips. It quickly heats up, his tongue swiping at my bottom lip to gain access. I open immediately, wanting to give him everything I have. Heholds my whole heart in his hands, and I think he’s finally understanding how much I trust him with it.
After what he was exposed to, I can understand how hard it would be for him to open up to anyone. It was ingrained in him in the most horrendous ways that he couldn’t trust people at face value. Even though he was adopted into a loving family, that kind of trauma doesn’t go away. It’ll be something we have to navigate in our relationship for years to come.
I’m lucky he was willing to give me a shot in the first place.
His palm lands on my cheek, the rough calluses scratching my skin. He makes me feel small, yet more protected than anyone else ever could. It would be so easy for him to seem intimidating. Instead, he makes me feel loved. His actions prove how he feels more than words ever could.
Our kisses have turned filthy. His thick erection presses into my belly to tease at what’s to come. I curl my fingers into his T-shirt to keep from moving my hands, and I’m rewarded for the effort when he lifts me by the ass to wrap my legs around his waist.
God, the things this man can do to my body with very little effort.
“Michael!” A man’s voice booms through the house. “Grab whatever you’re cooking and—oh shit!”
Chapter 19
Michael
“And—oh shit.”
Addie pulls away from me with a gasp. “Ryan.”
The blood drains from my face when my gaze locks with my best friend’s. He’s standing there, his mouth gaping open as if he’s trying to find the right words to say to explain what he’s seeing.
Addie shifts her weight, reminding me that I’m still holding her up by her ass.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,fuck!
Ryan turns around and walks right out of the room, and my stomach drops.
“Ryan, wait,” Addie calls out.
