He grabbed me, pulling the white fencing jacket down my arms and coming down on my lips hard. The jacket fell to the floor, and I gripped his shoulders as he pulled me up and into him, covering my mouth with his taste and heat. His tongue slid in, flicking mine as he moved strong and powerful, devouring me.
“I like you crazy,” he gasped, pulling back an inch. “And I like you wet. How are you feeling down here?” He pushed his hand down the front of my pants, having no problem finding how slick I was. “Yeah. These pants rubbed against you good, huh? I knew they would.”
I shot back up, meeting him full force as we continued to kiss, bite, and play. I worked the rubber band out of my hair, finally freeing it and letting the long tendrils fall down my back.
His needy hands covered my skin, damp with sweat, and then slid down my pants, cupping my ass and pulling me into him.
The thick ridge of his cock nudged my clit, and I groaned, it felt so good.
“Somebody could come in,” I whispered against his neck as I pushed his black jacket down his arms. “We should go to the shower.”
“No,” he growled low, ripping open his shirt, the buttons flying. “I want to see you sweat.”
I glanced nervously at the frosted door, knowing someone could enter at any second, but my pussy was throbbing, my nipples were so hard from brushing against his clothes, and I didn’t care about anything except having him inside me.
Within seconds, my pants, shoes, and socks were gone, and Michael had shed his shirt before picking me up and wrapping my legs around him.
He stood there, in the center of the room, gripping my ass and kissing my neck, my jaw, and then my lips. I could feel my hair sticking to my back, and the air in the room grew thick, every inch of my skin coming alive as I tilted my head back.
“Rika,” he whispered against my neck. “I need you. I need you every day, every hour, every minute…”
I brought my head back up, hugging him close and wishing time would stand still.
He was everything.
My entire life, I only felt completely alive when he was close, and while I knew nothing would ever be easy with him, I also knew nothing would ever be good without him, either.
Dipping my head into his neck and closing my eyes, I whispered, “I love you, Michael.”
He remained still, his hold on me not changing, but it felt like he’d stopped breathing.
Tears sprang to my eyes when he didn’t say anything, and I held him tight. Please don’t push me away.
I wasn’t sorry I’d said it. I’d owned it, and there was no other choice. But I couldn’t face his silence. Or the truth that what was in his heart might not be what was in mine.
But I wasn’t sorry.
“Rika…” he said, sounding like he was searching for words.
But I shook my head, dropping my legs and forcing him to let me down. “Don’t say anything,” I told him, not meeting his eyes. “I don’t expect you to.”
His hands stayed on my hips, and I knew he was staring at me.
“Tell her you love her,” a deep voice echoed. “Jesus Christ.”
I shot my head up, Michael doing the same as we scanned the billows of steam and finally made out a pair of legs on the top level swinging over the edge as he sat up.
“Is it that fucking hard?” Kai set his feet on the tile of the next level and leaned down on his elbows, staring at Michael. “You’re so tortured. Had it real tough, haven’t you, Michael?”
I sucked in a breath and dived down, picking up Michael’s black shirt and covering myself.
Oh, my God. He’d been here the whole time? What the hell?
“A beautiful girl looks at you like you’re God her entire life,” Kai continued, shifting something small and red from one hand to the other over and over again, “and you’re never going to get anything better, because there is nothing better, and you still can’t say it? Do you know how lucky you are?”
Michael stood silent, his eyes narrowed on Kai. He wasn’t going to argue with him. He never would. Giving Kai’s accusation any attention would give it credibility.
Kai dropped his eyes, still spilling the small red items from hand to hand and looking solemn.
Do you know how lucky you are? Had it real tough, haven’t you?
“What are those?” I asked, tightening the shirt around my chest.
“Shells,” he answered.
Shells? I peered more closely at them, seeing the gold ends and tattered heads, scrappy and blown out.
Shells. Shotgun shells.
And they’d been fired. My heart started thumping.
“Why do you have them?” Michael demanded.
But Kai just shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Why do you have them?” I demanded, stepping in.
I knew Kai was struggling, but why the hell did he have shotgun shells?
“They’re from the last time my grandfather took me shooting clay pigeons,” he explained, no emotion in his voice. “I was thirteen. It was the last time I remember being a kid.”
He stood up and walked down the levels, a white towel wrapped around his waist and his black hair slicked back.
“Sorry I didn’t make myself known sooner,” he said, approaching us. “I guess I…”
He trailed off as if thinking better of what he was about to say.
“You guess you what?” I asked.
He shot a glance at Michael before averting his eyes, admitting, “I guess I wanted to see if it would turn me on.”