Illicit ✔

seven

The menu fell out of her grasp as she gasped. "No." Fumbling to retrieve the thing before it knocked into her glass of water, she scrunched her nose. "Never again. That was a disaster."

Michael knew some of the details about their relationship, though not the more traumatizing parts. He knew of her near-rape, of her troubles with intimacy, and of her past life in London—because she'd blurted out a lot of it during her interview to work for his company. Yet he never judged her, never brought up delicate subjects that might bug her. Whenever they'd talked, he was discreet and friendly.

But not flirtatious, which was why it still shocked her that he'd recently stepped forward.

They enjoyed a no stress, uncomplicated meal together, and with every passing minute, Coralie felt more and more comfortable sitting before him. She'd been a bit unsure when getting into his car, seeing him again after their encounter at the bar. What were his expectations? Did he have any clue that she'd sworn off relationships, that she still had intimacy problems, and that she'd recently realized she still harbored intense feelings for a man from her past?

There were moments where Ryan forced his way into her mind, interrupting her peaceful conversation with Michael. Quick flashes of his smirk, visions of him making stupid faces to make her laugh, and the inevitable recollections of their beyond sexy exchanges. A few times, she drifted off into RyRy Land, and had to shake out of it to focus on Michael.

And Michael deserved her focus. Everything he did was interesting—from his creative captures of little known landmarks around town, to his eclectic tastes in TV shows and movies and music. Without forgetting his mellow lifestyle of skateboarding, exploring nature, and choosing to walk over driving if possible.

His voice was suave but not overly seductive. His short-cut, messy hair made Coralie want to shrug her fingers through it. He was well-built, charming, eccentric; and as he spoke, his lips captivated her and got her intrigued about how they'd taste.

When he drove her home, she almost wanted him to kiss her. She almost wanted to unbutton his shirt and see what was beneath, to press her hands to his chest, to let him tug her close. It was an arousing sensation that she'd thought reserved for Ryan, yet it bloomed in her for Michael, albeit less intense, more under control.

But a tiny pinch in her belly proved to her she wasn't ready to take action on such feelings. Intimacy with Michael did intrigue her, more so now that she knew it was reciprocated. But the notion of it actually happening prompted a discomfort to grow in her gut.

Michael, ever in tune to everyone's emotions and wearing his heart on his sleeve, seemed to sense her reluctance as he opened her car door and helped her out. As their hands touched, she felt the briefest of jolts, and a slight chill coursed up her arms, her shoulders, and nestled at the base of her neck.

Is that a good sign? Or a bad one?

"I had an awesome time, Cora," he said, keeping their fingers entangled as he closed the door. Their eyes met—his sparkled as the lamplights hit them, and the corners of his mouth tugged into a shy grin. "Again, I'm glad I did this. And even gladder that you accepted."

She bit her lip and looked down, struggling to not grin back at him. The jolt spread down her back and she suppressed the shiver it caused.

"Why would I not? You're one of the good ones, Michael."

He squeezed her hand harder and pulled her a little closer; close enough for his candy-mint breath to slither up her nose.

She braced for his lips to find hers and for them to fumble with a first kiss, for them to giggle at their shyness, at their clumsiness.