Page 46 of It's a Widow Thing

“It’s a good thing you have Michael, then,” his mother replied.

“He is an amazing cook. I suppose I have you to thank for that.”

“It’s just a few simple techniques and some practice. But you have to put love into it if you want it to be really great.”

Sabrina turned and smiled at Michael. “I like that. I can definitely taste the love when you cook.”

Michael just sat there grinning, trying to remember every last detail of that moment. He knew he’d want to remember it always. It was the first time he stopped questioning if what he was feeling was real. If he what he was feeling was “it”. The warmth and contentment that crept over him? It could only be one thing.

CHAPTEREIGHTEEN

Michael was completely naked,wriggling with anticipation against the cool sheets, waiting for Sabrina under the covers. The bathroom door opened and the light clicked off, and the familiar scent of Sabrina’s lotion wafted into the room. She climbed into bed and he wasted no time reaching for her beautiful body, for the skin he’d longed to touch all day long. His hands met something soft, but it certainly wasn’t skin.

What the hell?“Flannel?”

Sabrina burrowed her face in his neck. “Is there a problem?”

“Not unless you expect me to wear a sleeping cap.”

Sabrina snickered. “We’re at your parents’ house. I thought I should wear something a bit more demure.”

Michael rolled over and switched on the lamp on the bedside table. He had to see what he was dealing with. The idea of Sabrina in flannel was far too incongruous. “Demure?” Her pink and blue polka-dotted pajamas were adorable, despite his protestations.Damn. She still looks sexy.“I was wondering if Brian put you up to this. He does like to play practical jokes.”

“It has buttons. So you have to do a little work.” She leaned closer and planted a soft kiss on his lips. “And it’s still me under all of this fuzzy cotton.”

“Yes, yards and yards of godforsaken cotton.”

“You were really cute with Zoe after dinner. Who knew you’re so terrible at Go Fish?”

He started in on the aforementioned buttons, working to quickly dispatch her pajama top. “Hey. I was playing against a seasoned pro. And I’m pretty sure she was counting cards.”

She laughed against his chest. The tremble of her lips on his skin, her musical laugh, the silkiness of her skin—it all sent a rumble through him.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this, Michael.”

“You don’t want to?” Back in the city, they’d been doing it every night. On the weekends, it could be several times a day. But he supposed there might be a time when they would slow down.

“I want to. But it still feels weird. Your family.”

He reached for her hand and slipped his fingers between hers. “Okay. If it makes you that uncomfortable, of course. We don’t have to.” He might need to sneak into the bathroom to make his hard-on go away, but it wasn’t like he’d never done that before.

She traced her fingers across his shoulder. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I want to. It just feels a little off.”

“Sure. Absolutely.” He began re-buttoning her top.

“Hold on.” She grabbed his arm. “Don’t just agree with me, Michael. Tell me what you’re thinking. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

One million thoughts cycled through his head. She’d already been subjected to so much that day, and she’d done amazingly with all of it. She’d run the gauntlet of his family and come out on the other side, stronger. She was like The Bionic Woman. And despite the earlier turmoil, it ended with a magical night. “I want to make love to you. We just had an amazing night with my family and my heart is full of romantic feelings for you.”

She became impossibly still, and he wondered if he’d taken a step too far. “Oh, God, Michael. That is so sweet. It’s like poetry.”

He exhaled, perhaps a little too loudly. “You wouldn’t use that word if you knew what I was imagining doing to you while you were in the bathroom.”

“Okay. Get a condom. But you have to promise me you’ll be quiet.”

He reached over to the nightstand, grabbed the box, which he had strategically placed earlier, and flipped it open. “Why?”

“Your mom might hear us.”