Chapter 7

A pair of big, warm hands were running over her back, massaging and kneading her muscles to the point of her body feeling as wonderfully limp as overcooked spaghetti. A sighed moan escaped her lips "Mmm…" Whatever the hunky masseuse was doing in her dream, Christine never wanted it to stop. And she knew he had to be a hunk, her mind wouldn't make up something this delicious without supplying a half naked god. Another moan sounded from her when his hands went lower, under her sweats, his long fingers kneading her buttocks. Oooh, he definitely knows what he's doing. A contented smile spread across her features while supple warmth pooled low in her belly.

Christine was so warm and toasty, and her dreamy haze was just too wonderful to throw away for a day of worry and aggravation. She nuzzled into her warm pillow, moving her arms up slightly so the stroking hands could reach her sides, mumbling sleepily "It can wait…" It definitely could, the dream was just getting interesting. The warm contact of him felt almost real; she could practically feel the calluses on his palms and fingernails scraping gently along her heated flesh. If only she could turn around and see his face, but her whole being felt too delightfully lethargic for her to bother. Instead, she concluded to just enjoy this for as long as it lasted.

After a few more arousing minutes, her eyebrows drew together in confusion. It is just me, or is my pillow… breathing? Popping one eye open, Christine saw she was in her bedroom. How did I get in here? Perplexed, she opened both eyes and turned her head up, meeting a pair of smoldering dark blue ones.

"Oh my god!" she shrieked, frantically pushing off of a surprised Michael. Her legs got tangled up in the sheets and before he could catch her, Christine ended up crashing to the floor in a flailing heap of burgundy satin.

Michael instantly bolted from the bed and grabbed her arms, pulling her up. Amusement flickered in his eyes as she battled to untangle herself from the sheet, while at the same time worked to right her crumpled clothing and tame her wild mane of hair. Looking at her flushed cheeks, wide eyes and heaving chest, Michael had a hard time deciding if he found her more appealing now, or before, when she'd moaned and writhed on top of him in complete sensuous abandon. It had taken everything in him not to flip her over and bury himself in her heat.

Christine, however, didn't know if she was more aroused, embarrassed or terrified. Probably a bizarre mixture of all three. She couldn't believe what just happened! It was supposed to be a nice relaxing dream, not an intro to Idiots-Gone-Wild! Closing her eyes tightly, Christine bit back a pained groan at the memory of her rubbing against him like a cat in heat, and the moans! Good god! She'd moaned like he was a rare treat to savor! "Hell!" Yep, she was in hell.

His eyes narrowed as he watched her shred the edge of her T-shirt with anxious fingers. For some unfathomable reason it annoyed Michael to no end that she kept avoiding his gaze. He wanted her attention focused on him. Moving closer, he firmly stopped her nervous behavior by gripping her hands with one of his. Instantly, Christine's eyes shot up to his, wide with fearful surprise as she tried to tug herself free. "No-"

Michael only tightened his grip, making her wince as she stumbled into him. He stared, captivated, when her tongue snaked out to wet her lips before she whimpered "Your grip…please, let me go…" Turning his head away for a moment, he contemplated what to do. Her timid behavior didn't please him, the opposite in fact, it darkened his already volatile mood. He wasn't sure why, but it became very important that she come to him. That it was her choice, her desire. He wanted her like she was before, he wanted her unafraid and willing, uninhibited and eager.

A part of Christine was shocked when he actually released her and took a step back. The rest of her was just plain confused. Michael kept switching gears on her and she had no clue as to how to deal with him when he did it. Frankly, it, he intimidated the hell out of her, mainly because she couldn't read him. Gathering her frayed composure, she went with the old-fashioned practice of ignoring it, wishing she could do the same with the rest of him.

Clearing her throat, she motioned to the bed, trying to keep her voice from shaking and failed miserably "C-could you sit down please…um…I-I'd like to check the bandage on your head." It unnerved her, the way he stared directly into her eyes without blinking for an endless moment before he complied.

Seeing him on her bed again, Christine instantly regretted the fact she didn't have any chairs in her bedroom, even a stool would have been preferable. Fidgeting, she recited her newfound mantra in her head. You can do this, you can do this,… Michael actually made her queen sized bed look tiny by comparison. Her eyes met his and her courage went out the window. Who are you kidding? You can't do this.

Turning on her heel, Christine fled from the room, tossing over her shoulder "I'll be right back! Just…uhh…I just need some supplies!" Well, it wasn't a total lie, she did need new bandages and gauze. Remembering she bought some this morning, she headed straight for the kitchen and spotted the paper bag containing her excuse sitting on the counter, right where she'd left it. Picking it up, Christine took a few deep breaths and released them slowly, unwilling to admit she was stalling. What was wrong with a bit of procrastination anyway? People did it all the time.

God, she was disgusted with herself right now. Since when did she develop a toothpick instead of a backbone? She had the perfect answer; it was all his fault! If Michael wasn't so god damn threatening to her piece of mind, or her health for that matter, she would have stood up to him the moment he loomed his way into her life. Straightening her shoulders, Christine resolved to march in there and take the bull by the horns, so to speak. He wasn't the boss of her and she was done cowering like a damned rabbit! And if he has a problem with that, he can just go suck on a- she whirled around and slammed headfirst into a wall of naked muscle "EEEK!"

Lighting quick, Michel caught her before she hit the ground as his ears rang with her yell. Looking down at her, his eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise. She was gulping air like a fish and shaking like a leaf. Was she that terrified of him? As soon as she was steady, he reluctantly released her and took a step back. It was becoming obvious to him that she was going to be a lesson in patience. He just wasn't sure she was worth the aggravation.

Clutching her chest, Christine's head shot up and she glared at him, gasping "Don't do that! You almost gave me a heart attack!" Good lord, where had he come from? She hadn't even heard a sound! Glowering, she pursed her lips; so much for her backbone, he just shot that to hell and turned it into dust.

Shaking her head with a sigh, Christine picked up the bag she'd dropped. Taking his hand, she moved toward the couch, and came to a sudden jolting stop when he didn't move. Turning her head, she gave him a curious look "What's wrong?" Christine blushed to the roots of her hair as she realized Michael was staring at their clasped hands. "Oh!" She instantly released him as if he'd burned her. Turning her back on him, she silently chided herself for her impulsive behavior while quickly making her way into the living room and plopping down on the sofa.

It didn't take him long to follow her. Christine watched him from the corner of her eye as he tilted his head slightly as if contemplating something for a few moments before carefully sitting down beside her on the couch. She bit back a smile. It seemed he never did anything without thinking it through first.

Michael observed her intently as she arranged the content of her bag on the small table in front of them. His eyes moved to hers the moment she turned to him fully, speaking softly "I'm going to take off your bandage now and take a look at how your head is healing, ok?" He remained completely still as she moved closer to him and started working. Michael realized he liked being this close to her, able to smell her scent and feel her touching him. Her fingers were gentle, yet firm as they moved through his hair tenderly prodding the wound. He barely felt a pinch when she touched it directly.

He could see the apology in her eyes before she said it "I'm sorry if this hurts. I promise I'll make it quick." A small part of him felt surprised that she gave him consideration when he wouldn't have given her any if the situation were reversed. It disconcerted him, absurdly made him feel like they weren't on equal footing. Michael was pulled out of his disturbing thoughts when she smiled at him "It looks really good. The bleeding's stopped completely; it's nice and pink everywhere, so no infection. And the stitches are holding up better then I hoped." She busied herself putting the things back in the bag "I'm going to put some antibiotic cream on it, just in case, and after an hour or so bandage it up again, and if it keeps healing this well, we'll take the stitches out in a few short days." Michael found himself staring at her mouth as she spoke. Her lips were full, the lower a little thicker then the upper, and the urge to bite them, taste them, almost overwhelmed him. Her eyes turned as round as saucers as he leaned closer to her. She sounded breathless "M-Michael, what-?" He didn't let her finish. Michael pressed his mouth to hers and had to suppress a possessive growl as her eyes closed after a few frozen seconds and she melted against him.

Christine was lost in a haze of electric sensation. His lips were better then she'd imagined. Firm, yet soft, yielding and yet commanding. Tilting her head, she pressed closer to him, running her hands hesitantly to his wide shoulders. She was supposed to push him away, wasn't she? Then why did it feel like she was tugging him closer?

A quiet moan escaped her when she felt his arm wrap around her middle like a vice and pull her more firmly against him, crushing her breasts into the planes of his strong chest. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders when he sharply bit her bottom lip. She moaned louder. Christine couldn't stop this even if her life depended on it, and if she were honest, she didn't want to.

Timidly, she ran her tongue over the seam of his lips, and was pleasantly surprised when he did the same to her. Growing bolder, she did it again, but this time waited for him to join her. She didn't have to wait long. Briefly, she wondered if he'd ever done this before, and just as quickly dismissed the thought. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

The first contact of his tongue on hers sent a jolt of raw need cursing to every nerve ending in her body, making her tremble. Suddenly she felt too hot, to constricted in her clothing. Christine couldn't suppress the disappointed whimper that escaped her throat when Michael tore his mouth away from hers. Opening her eyes, she stared at him, breathing heavily and wondering why he stopped. The look in his eyes was utterly wild, they looked almost black, smoldering.

It frightened her and excited her in equal measure. Before her mind could catch up to her, Michael pounced with a low growl. His right arm crushed her back into his hard body, and his left hand savagely tangled in her hair jerking her head back. Tears stung her eyes at the pain. Shocked, Christine opened her mouth to tell him to stop, but the words never made it past her lips as Michael sealed his mouth over hers in a bruising kiss.

His hot, wet tongue pried her lips open and he swept in without any resistance. Christine could only hang on to him for dear life. Michael completely overpowered her senses and dominated her will. It was in that moment that something snapped in her. Her own matching growl built up in her throat and her fingers knotted into his cropped hair with equal force. Giving as good as she got, Christine explored his mouth as he took hers. The spicy, intoxicating taste of him drove her wild, and fueled her on, fueled the sudden fire blazing under her skin, fueled the heat pooling in her belly and lower. Their tongues dueled for dominance and mouths slanted in feverish abandon, neither of them willing to give an inch.

It wasn't gentle, or loving, or considerate. It was primitive and animalistic and untamed. He kept her head still for his invasion and Christine moaned into his mouth with delight as he sucked on her tongue and then bit the tip. Grazing her teeth on his upper lip and nipping the lower, she was rewarded by a low growl from him. It was the most erotic sound she'd ever heard and she bit him again just to have the pleasure of hearing it once more, feeling his chest vibrate against hers with the low tone.

Michael was just as far gone as she was, if not more. She was like a drug and he couldn't get enough of her. He marveled at how soft she was, better then he remembered. How well she fit him and how damned good she tasted. She brought out the animal in him and it wanted to possess her completely. He wanted, no, needed to brand her as his. Somehow. It drove him. Michael needed her to know to whom she belonged. That she was his. Only his.

He groaned as he felt her small warm hand caress from his shoulder down to his chest and on to his side, and he growled when he felt her fingernails scraping over his ribs. This was exactly what he wanted from her, how he wanted her; moaning at the pleasure he demanded from her. Every sound she made was permanently seared into his memory. Leaning back on the couch, Michael lifted her up without breaking their kiss and moved her so she straddled his lap. The new position created even more heated friction between their straining bodies and he desperately wanted to shred every damnable scrap of clothing between them, wanted to feel her.

Feeling his hand release her hair, a part of Christine lamented the lost contact. The rest of her, still being devoured by Michaels expert kisses couldn't care one whit either way. A shiver crawled up her spine as his hands moved on her back, under her shirt. The firm up and down and circling movements almost hypnotic.

Hearing the material tear, Christine tore her mouth from his and froze. Unbidden a memory intruded of her time in captivity. That time specifically. When he'd…when…A cry tore from her lips "No! I can't!-" Neither of them knew she could move so fast. Christine lunged off of him and the couch in a heartbeat, shaking from head to toe, strangling out from her tight throat "I'm sorry…"

She needed to get away from him. Now! Running to the bathroom, Christine none too gently slammed the door behind her and leaned heavily against the panel, trying to calm her racing heart. How in the world was she supposed to get through this unscathed? Her hands were shaking and her palms felt clammy, her stomach was in knots and she could swear her knees wobbled. Christine had never experienced such a powerful reaction to anyone in her life and it freaked her out to her core.

Her whole life she'd wanted consistency and safety, and with him Christine had everything but. Michael was fear and danger and death and…and passion. She brushed her fingertips against her swollen lips in wonder, they still tingled from his kiss and she could still taste him. So much passion, so much sensual heat mixed with adrenaline. He made her head spin, made her forget everything she once so desperately craved from her, now seemingly monotonous, existence.