Taunt
Sunlight splashed over his shoulders, burning a path over his already baking skin as he sat on the bank of the pond, watching the petite brunette swim through the cooling liquid with inscrutable eyes as he undressed to join her. She's haunted his every waking and sleeping thought for years, starting long before they left that night.
Well more, she left and he gave chase, unable to let her go, unwilling to let her face the world without some form of protection. He had known she had something planned by the way she avoided him, avoided them all after she and Max finally called it quits to their train wreck of a relationship. He just never expected her to leave without a word.
So he watched her carefully over the weeks and when he saw her load up her car in the dead of night, he grabbed his bag, always packed and waiting, giving her a brief head start, tailing her for two weeks before she caught on to his presence. To say that she was irritated when they finally came face to face was an understatement. But when it comes to stubborn persistence, he has her beat any day.
He can't help but smirk when he remembers the night they 'accidentally' ran into each other on Bourbon Street. She gaped at him incredulously; fear flashing in her eyes momentarily as she hastily searched the area for the others before they darkened with temper, her cheeks flushing enticingly when she realized he was alone. His breath hitches every time at the memory.
"What are you doing here, Michael?" she hissed through clenched teeth, her fists balled in annoyed exasperation as he leaned against the building watching her inscrutably, biting back a smirk at the fire flashing in her ebony eyes.
Michael remained stoically silent as he took her in, seeing her up close for the first time in weeks, noting the circles under eyes were fading and she was losing that pinched, wan expression that had haunted her for months, losing her wraithlike gauntness. He hadn't seen her so animated, so alive in years. It was breathtaking.
"Well?" she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest, glaring at him and wondering how he found her so easily. With everything she left behind, and the images she planted in Isabel's head when she tried to dreamwalk her, he should be on his way to California to look for her, not standing in front of her in New Orleans.
Shoving off the wall, he sauntered over, standing toe-to-toe with the petite brunette, looming over her despite knowing that it wouldn't have an affect on her. It never had, but he couldn't help but try. Tipping her head back, she met his intent gaze defiantly, daring him to try and drag her back.
"You didn't say goodbye," he accused softly, his caramel gaze finally sparking angrily, hurt that after the friendship they developed that she hadn't even bothered to tell him she was going. He thought he had meant more to her than that. "You didn't even tell me you were leaving."
"And this is my problem how, Michael?" she snorted acidly, back stiffening defensively at the words he hadn't uttered, but were so clearly etched in his eyes. With Michael, it was always the eyes you had to watch. She knew he'd been hurt by her actions, but it was best for him, for all of them. She shrugged dismissively, needing to send him packing for his own good. "Why bother?"
"After everything we'd been through together, I deserved a goodbye," he growled, knowing she was trying to push him away, having used the same ploys himself. She'd forgotten whom she was dealing with and it was time to remind her. No one knew how to build and destroy walls like he did.
"Fine, goodbye, Michael," Liz smirked, turning on her heel to walk away, but was stopped by a hand grasping her wrist firmly, swinging her back around to meet smoldering whiskey eyes. Tugging on her wrist, she huffed when she realized he wasn't going to release her until he was good and ready and impatiently waited for him to make his point.
"It won't work, Liz." Steely determination rang through his voice as he pressed his nose to hers; smiling smugly when her breath hitched and her tongue darted out to lick her lips nervously. He'll take that victory, no matter how small a concession it was.
"Oooo, my first name," she taunted, irritation and something he chose not to name simmering in the depths of her fathomless chocolate brown orbs and pressed back, meeting his challenge unflinchingly. "The big, bad general must be mad."
"Know this, Parker," he whispered resolutely, ignoring her taunts as he gripped her chin lightly, keeping her wary gaze anchored to his. "No matter where or how far you run, I'll find you. You're stuck with me. Deal with it."
Narrowing her eyes, she ripped her chin from his grasp and fists clenching, she grit her teeth at his mocking laughter when she stalked off down the street. Blatantly ignoring him as he continued to walk just behind her, he knew her well enough to realize she was just waiting him out and expected him to get impatient and storm off when she didn't respond. But he wasn't the hotheaded boy left behind in Roswell.
The battle lines had been drawn.
A wet plop snapped him out of his memories and he sucked in a sharp breath, staring dumbly at a tiny, drenched tank top resting tauntingly at his feet. She didn't.
Breath rushing in harsh pants, caramel eyes rose, burning with unconcealed desire and locked with an amused chocolate gaze, her brow quirked in challenge. Cocking his own in question, he reached down and drew the wet, dark blue material through his fingers, body tensing with need as his artist's mind painted an all too enticing picture of water sliding over creamy mocha flesh.
"You said we wouldn't need suits," she murmured smugly, batting her eyes at him in mock innocence before a sultry smile slid over her face and shrugged a bare shoulder negligently. "I was just complying."
Swiping his tongue over his lips slowly, he smirked, darkened eyes glinting dangerously and her breath quickened when smoldering brandy slid over golden swells and curves, searing flesh, sending liquid heat coursing through her veins, her heart thrumming a staccato rhythm. Sliding his eyes back up to her face, he met molten chocolate, gesturing for her continuance, accepting her unspoken challenge and hissed when a tiny pair of shorts joined the top. Point for her.
Yes, the battle lines had been drawn indeed, but what a sweet triumph for the victor. And he had every intention of being the one to reap the spoils of this battle.
Languidly rising to his feet, he held her gaze, his hands straying to the fly of his pants, flicking the buttons open deliberately, grinning ferally when her gaze faltered, sliding down to watch his hands, lips parting in anticipation as he parted his jeans and slid them over his hips slowly. She gasped when the material hit the ground, pooling at his feet with a soft sigh and he kicked them away, resting his hands on his hips.
Fingering the edges of his boxers, he paused catching glowing ebony eyes, smiling wolfishly when her tongue darted out, flicking over parched lips when he slowly lowered them an inch, her breath falling quick, soft puffs. Drawing his hands away, he smirked when she raised startled, gleaming eyes and cocked a brow at him.
"Even playing field, Parker," he replied smugly, slipping into the water, hissing slightly as the cool water wrapped around hot skin, quickly submerging in the water and coming up in front of her, rivulets of water running over his chest as he ran his fingers through his hair, pushing the dripping waves back. Crowding her up against the rock behind her, he leaned over, drawing his fingers over her arm slowly and pressed his lips to her ear. "Can't get something for nothing, you know."
"Really?" she purred, splaying a hand on his chest, the other hidden beneath the water, gripping the rock for balance. Stroking her hand over his chest to his shoulder, she bore down slightly, soft swelling skin brushing lightly against him, a bolt of electricity crackling along his nerves and he hissed, pressing her firmly to the rock as molten chocolate met smoldering whiskey, her other hand rising to eye level. "So what do these get me?"
Eyes shifting to her lofted hand, he fought for breath, spying a scrap of black lace dangling from her out stretched fingers before they landed on the bank with a soft plop. Slamming his eyes shut, his throat convulsed, raw lust raging through his veins. Game, set and match to the tiny brunette without a stitch on.
He was doomed.
