A Good Man Read online

“From where I’m sitting, your pain looks an awful lot like pleasure.” He massaged his hands along the length of her legs, gliding upward from her ankle, kneading every part of her. When he once again drew near to her pussy, he purposely kept his thumbs away from where she needed them to be. “Do you know how hot you are right now? Your pussy’s pink and plump. Your hips won’t stop moving. I can see your stomach clenching because you don’t know when I’m going to show you mercy.”

  “Michael.”

  “Do you want mercy?”

  Words escaped her. She opened her mouth, but no sound emerged.

  “I asked you a question. Answer me. Do you want to come?”

  “Yes!”

  He grinned. “Then come.”

  He tapped her sex. It stung in the best of ways and the surge traveled through her, coursing into her toes and fingertips. Michael replaced his fingers with his mouth, drinking her orgasm as if it nourished him. With precision, he sucked at her clit, shaking her body, shaking the bed, shaking the heavens. The waves undulated, throwing her to shore over and over again, softening to a trickle.

  Emily closed her eyes, unable to grapple with the accompanying emotions. She’d had plenty of orgasms in her life, lots of them great, and yet none of them had even come close to this one.

  “Jesus, Em. You’re incredible.”

  Once again, he left her at a loss for words.

  When her body finally stopped quivering, he reached over to where he’d thrown his jeans. He pulled his wallet from his pocket and produced a condom.

  “You thought of everything.” Was that bark really her voice?

  “Believe me. I’ve thought of nothing else.” In short order, he tore the package open and sheathed himself. “Turn over, Emily.”

  “I can’t move.”

  “You will.”

  A gentleman by day, a tyrant in bed. She liked that.

  He rolled her onto all fours. She sucked in a breath when he massaged her bottom.

  “Hmm. I’m going to call you Dimples from now on.”

  “I don’t have…oh.”

  With a chuckle, Michael prodded her slick entrance and penetrated her, sinking deep. Emily cried out, amazed that her poor nerve endings could still get excited. He felt so different from Trent, so new. She wasn’t in the habit of comparing her lovers, but the comparisons made themselves. Michael stretched her and all she could do was shake her head in wonderment.

  “Am I hurting you?”

  “No. You just feel…”

  Michael moved slowly, retreating at his leisure. “How do I feel, Em?” He thrust deep.

  “Oh, God.” She clutched at the sheets. “So good.”

  He rewarded her for her whimpers by smacking her ass, making her body tighten around him.

  “Jesus, Michael.”

  “That’s it. Say my name, only my name.”

  “Michael.” She sighed. “Michael.”

  “Good girl. Now say, ‘Michael Zorn’s cock is so awesome I want to frame it.’”

  She burst out laughing. “It is awesome.”

  He filled her with such light, such happiness, and she loved that he could make her laugh at a time like this. Trent had always been so serious in bed, as if his flinty solemnity was a measure of his prowess.

  As he breached her again, she snatched at her breath and all thoughts of Trent evaporated. Michael ground over her, thrusting deeper, and Emily became unable to enunciate any sort of sound. She gasped, clinging to the mattress as if clinging to life.

  “Em,” he said on a grunt. “Goddammit.”

  Something stirred inside her. Lust spiraled through her core, forcing her to confront her savage need. Each thrust broke her down. Each impact proved her undoing. Strangely enough, it didn’t take long the second time. They’d both wanted it too much. Even though she came again, and at a pace that astounded her, she was no less satisfied. Michael filled her, and not just on a carnal level. He understood what made her sigh. He moved in ways programmed to drive her wild.

  He touched her as no one had ever, and left her wanting more.

  They came together on hushed cries. Once he finished, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close to his chest. His heartbeat, rapid and almost audible, matched hers.

  He brushed his lips against the back of her neck. “Don’t move.” He withdrew and headed to the washroom to dispose of the condom.

  She had no choice but to move and flopped onto her back. She watched as he emerged, lit from behind by the bathroom light. His thigh muscles flexed as he walked. So gorgeous…and hard.

  She lifted a weak finger. “That’s not possible.”

  “Oh, it is.” He lay atop her and kissed the line of her jaw. “I hope you’re a night owl, Dimples, because I don’t plan to sleep for a while.”

  Emily wrapped her legs around him. She had no arguments.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Around three in the morning, Emily awoke out of a sound sleep and yet another dream of Michael using his tools. Only this time, his tool hadn’t been of the metallic variety. As consciousness crept in, she swallowed. Her throat felt like sandpaper.

  ‘I hope you’re a night owl, Dimples.’

  He had been as good as his word.

  Smiling, Emily reached across the bed, but he’d vacated the spot next to her. Sitting up, she noticed the line of light coming in beneath the closed bedroom door. Shuffling noises emanated from down the hall.

  Thinking Michael might be scrambling in her kitchen, hungry for a snack after their late-night aerobics, Emily got out of bed and threw on a robe. She opened the bedroom door and padded down the hall.

  He was bent over her kitchen sink, wearing his boxer briefs, clutching his forehead.

  “Michael.” She dashed to his side and put a hand on his bare back. It was damp with perspiration. “Are you okay?”

  He turned his head to the side but didn’t move otherwise. His body remained clenched, as if waiting for a wave of nausea. “I’m fine. You should go back to bed.”

  His voice, so warm and gravelly the night before, just sounded strained now. He’d become pale again, even whiter than when he was at the Bamboo Gigolo. Had they overdone it in bed? She knew they shouldn’t have pushed it.

  “I’ll call an ambulance.”

  “No.” He grabbed her arm. “No, it’s passing. It always passes. Please, Em. I’ll be okay.”

  She put a hand on his chest. His heart wasn’t racing, or at least it wasn’t anymore. She kissed his forehead to see how hot he was, but his skin was cool. No fever, thank God.

  Nick’s voice echoed in her mind. ‘My brother’s stressed but won’t admit it.’

  Maybe it was high time Michael told her what was going on. He’d been there for her, over and over, listening patiently whenever she talked about Trent. Michael had managed to take away some of her burden. He’d made her feel better.

  Boy, did he ever.

  She’d be damned if he didn’t let her help him now.

  After pouring him a glass of cold water from the pitcher of filtered water in the fridge, Emily led him to the living room. “I’m not going to bed until I know you won’t keel over on me.”

  “I won’t. It’s nothing.”

  “Michael, I think we both know that’s not the case. Now I want you to talk to me.” ‘Michael and Lacey have history, but you didn’t hear it from me.’ “Is it Lacey?”

  He plunked himself down on one end of the loveseat. “You know about Lacey and me?”

  She sat next to him. “Every time you walk by she either throws eye daggers at you or cartoon hearts. Nick just confirmed my suspicions.”

  “Nick. When I get a hold of that little busybody…”

  “This isn’t his fault. Come on. You’re a smart guy. You have to realize it’s not a good thing when you’re having these kinds of symptoms. I thought you were going to black out. You’re scaring me.”

  His face changed and the tense lines turned down with remorse. “I’m sorry. That’s th
e last thing I want to do.”

  She slid closer, grabbing one of her couch throws and tucking it around the two of them. “Talk to me. Unless you need to profess your undying love for Lacey, I can handle just about anything.”

  He grinned and grabbed her hand under the blanket. “Lacey and I are over, I promise you. We have been for a while and I have no interest in going back to her. I won’t lie to you. She says she’s still interested in me, but that doesn’t seem to have stopped her from corrupting the intern.”

  “Jacob? No wonder he’s always walking around with a smile on his face.”

  “Yeah. Anyway, Lacey and I are history. I hope you believe me.”

  “You’ve never given me any reason not to believe you about anything. Only, Nick seemed to think you became agitated after talking to her yesterday.”

  “I did, but not for the reason you’d expect.” He exhaled loudly, puffing out his cheeks. “Do you keep up with the local news?”

  “Ah.” They would finally talk about the shooting. “Yes, I do.”

  “There was a shooting at a daycare last year.”

  “I remember. The lady who owned it was killed.”

  “Her name was Jane Ashton. She was one of my contracting clients.”

  She hadn’t recalled the name of the woman involved, but certainly remembered the circumstances. “I remember being impressed when I read the reports. What you did…”

  “What I did.” He shook his head at the turn of phrase. “The producers of Handymen have invited the families of those children to come on the show and rehash the ordeal.”

  “But it’s not a true crime show. It’s about renovations.”

  “I know. Some of the parents reached out to the producers because I won’t talk to them. I can’t talk to them. And it seems the producers are only too happy to hear them declare me a hero on camera.”

  “But, Michael, you are. I agree, the show could be tacky if not handled well, but it doesn’t change the fact you saved those children.”

  “Em, I don’t want to look back. I don’t want to remember. A woman died that day because I didn’t get to her quickly enough.”

  “No. A woman died that day because her ex-husband shot her. Surely you don’t think it’s your fault that man pulled a gun on his wife?”

  “I get it. He went nuts, but if I hadn’t been so absorbed in fixing a leak in her basement, I might have heard him enter the house. I thought I heard arguing, but from where I was, I figured the kids were just making noise. I should have realized it was something else. I should have gone upstairs sooner.”

  “If you had, you might have been the one going to the morgue that day. Even if you had gone upstairs sooner, it doesn’t mean he wouldn’t have found a way to shoot his wife.”

  “But it might have made a difference.”

  “I’m not a doctor, but it sounds as if you’re dealing with a hefty dose of survivor’s guilt. You can’t blame yourself. You did nothing wrong.”

  “My shrink called it PTSD.”

  PTSD. She’d only ever heard the term used in conjunction with war veterans, but knew the government was now advocating programs for first responders. Positive changes, but did that include someone like Michael, someone who’d tumbled into a nightmare scenario? “You’ve been seeing a doctor?”

  “I was. Not anymore. I’m not sick, just…stuck. I just need to man up and move on. These flashbacks are just like bad dreams. You have to shake them off and they’ll fade away.”

  “But Michael, from what I’ve heard, PTSD is a serious condition.”

  “I agree, but I don’t have it. I haven’t been through a war.”

  “With all due respect, you looked like a prisoner of war when you almost hit the decks at the Bamboo Gigolo. When I walked in just now, you looked like you were fighting a battle. You’re suffering, Michael. Anyone can see it. I think your doctor might have had a point.”

  Sighing, he moved the blanket aside and dragged her onto his lap so she straddled him. Emily wound her arms around his neck and his hands rested on her bottom. He pulled her close. “I’m fine. Please don’t worry about me. I just don’t like the fact the producers and Lacey went behind my back to the parents. Why can’t anyone understand I don’t want accolades? I just want this to be over.”

  “Okay, so maybe having the parents on the show is a bad idea, but clearly these people are desperate to talk to you. They just want to thank you for being a hero.”

  “Please don’t say that word.” The fatigue in his face made him look older than his years.

  “Hero? Is it such a bad word?”

  “I don’t want it applied to me.”

  “That doesn’t make you any less of one. That man might have killed those kids. You stopped him, giving no thought to your own safety, from what I heard.”

  “Anyone would have done the same.”

  “Do you honestly believe it? I don’t. I think most people would have been looking for the nearest escape route.”

  “Look, Em, I appreciate your concern. I really do. And I’m thankful for…your company last night, but I think I should head back to my place.”

  “The sun’s not even up.”

  “I realize that, and I don’t want you to drive me home. I’ll take a cab.”

  Something snapped inside her. Seeing him there in her condo in the wee hours, wearing only his boxer briefs and a sad face, made her want to take care of him. He looked so appealing and yet so vulnerable. She wanted to bring him to her breast and stroke his hair, whispering words of encouragement, in the hopes she’d get through to him.

  “No. Don’t leave. I don’t want you to go.”

  “I was wrong to stay. You were in a bad place when Trent left. I should have left you alone.”

  “No, you were exactly what I needed at that moment. I wanted nothing more than to have you hold me.” Tears appeared out of nowhere. She hadn’t been able to summon them when she’d broken off her engagement and given Trent back his gaudy ring, but she couldn’t seem to stem the tide now. She needed Michael, needed his heat and strength and understanding, and she wanted to heal him if it was at all possible.

  “Don’t cry.” He stroked his thumb across her cheekbone.

  “Then don’t leave. Not yet.” Wanting to keep him near, ready to use any means, she untied her robe and let it fall open.

  His demeanor changed when he glimpsed her nude body under the robe. The tired lines on his face smoothed into determination. He snaked his hands around her bare waist, resting his forehead against hers, and dug his fingertips into her hips. “Since meeting you, I’ve been trying so hard to do what’s right. I’m tired of doing the right thing. I want you, Emily. I want you in my life and in my bed. I want to be foolish with you. I want to take risks. Maybe I’ll just end up being a rebound for you. I don’t know. Frankly, I just don’t give a shit anymore. That’s how much I need you.”

  “Michael.”

  “I have no sense of self-preservation around you.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “It’s true. You could walk all over me and I’d be happy to feel your heels crushing me into the dirt.”

  His mouth smashed against hers in a maelstrom of need and confusion. Although she barely understood the implications as his lips brushed against hers, she wasn’t equipped to fight it. His tongue met with hers and her body rioted with pleasure. A thousand butterflies took flight in her stomach, all of them flying directly toward him.

  Except for one stingy moth that nattered in Emily’s ear. What if this is just a rebound? Can you handle hurting this man? Can he handle it?

  She gave the moth an imaginary swat.

  Perhaps she was headed down a dark path with Michael. Perhaps they were making mistakes and this was just about sex. What if she woke up a week from now, appeased? What if she no longer needed this crazy flirtation? Perhaps their affair was doomed before it started.

  Right now, when his mouth was hot on her skin, she didn’t care.

&nb
sp; He moved her off his lap and onto the living room carpet. Michael stood and removed his boxer briefs.

  “Condom,” she said on a breath.

  “Don’t need one right now.” He knelt in front of her and eased her legs apart. He leaned over and kissed her once, licking at the corner of her mouth, and slid his finger along her slick seam. She gasped, holding her breath when he eased the finger inside her. He circled the fraught bundle of nerves at her entrance, toying with her as much as she might be toying with him.

  His eyes grew impossibly dark, focused and yet unfocused, as he slid down her body. He pushed her thighs apart and lowered his head. Emily closed her eyes and flew into a careless sky.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Emily had been helping Eli with the front yard landscaping all day Monday while Michael worked on the kitchen. After their amazing weekend together, he could have sworn it had been years since he’d been able to hold her, when he knew it was mere hours. Despite his intention to make significant progress in the kitchen, he’d kept finding excuses to poke his head into the yard, just to look at her. He felt like a smitten teenager.

  Before returning to the house, Emily had asked him to keep quiet about the fact that their friendship had catapulted to the next level. It was too new. No one needed to know. He’d promised her he wouldn’t reveal anything about their romance on set. He could understand why and didn’t want to put her on the spot. It didn’t prevent him from wanting to pull her into his arms and kiss her silly.

  Toward the end of the day, his hands itched from not being able to touch her. The camera crew was already wrapping up and were headed out of the door. Michael almost made a run for it himself, eager to whisk Emily away somewhere private. He decided to tidy up some of his tools before meeting her out back.

  Standing between the equipment trailer and his truck, he loaded up his pickup and grinned as he imagined walking up behind her and planting his hands on her hips. He couldn’t stop thinking about how good those soft curves felt as they yielded to his touch.

  “Jacob, stop pawing me.”

  Lacey’s voice sounded from the other side of the trailer.

  “Come on, Lacey.” Jacob must have tried something because Michael heard a bit of shuffling. “Don’t push me away.”