PART FOURTEEN

Liz reached high above her shoulders methodically placing cans on the upper shelves of the storage closet. Her feet were planted squarely on a tall stepladder, yet she felt incredibly shaky knowing that Michael was a mere room away. Of all times for a supply delivery to have arrived, this had to be the worst one, she thought with an exasperated sigh. There’d be no hiding from Michael now—not as she’d hoped to do after he’d been so cavalier about their evening together, and then promptly dragged Max into the bathroom for a heavy make out session.

The entire emotional fiasco had left Liz ready to avoid Michael for the rest of the night, but instead, the supply delivery had arrived right at closing time, and now he’d undoubtedly come searching for her in here.

So much for avoidance, she thought with a wry laugh, grateful for an excuse to be so near him, despite her best intentions otherwise. Somehow, she’d been unable to remain upset with him, especially when she’d glimpsed him staring at her right after she’d kissed Max goodbye at the front door of the cafe. The undisguised longing in his eyes as he’d watched them both had caused her chest to tighten—especially the way his gaze had slowly lowered down her hips to her new jeans.

Liz smiled in satisfaction at the memory, and stretched a bit higher, trying to move one can that was stuck on the top shelf, and she felt cool air on her mid-riff as her shirt rode up a bit up. Suddenly, the coolness was replaced with heat, as strong hands cupped her waist.

"Better be careful, Liz," Michael admonished quietly. "That’s a pretty damn high shelf."

Slowly, she lowered her hands, turning toward him where he stood at the foot of the stepladder. He gazed up at her, his brown eyes serious, yet flashing with unmistakable desire.

"I’m learning that a lot of things are dangerous," she replied, tossing her long hair over her shoulder coquettishly. "But that hasn’t stopped me yet."

Strong hands tightened where they clasped her waist. Possessive…hungry.

Yet he remained silent, even though his dark gaze flashed with powerful emotion.

Slowly, Liz turned on the ladder until she faced him completely, and planted her hands on his shoulders, steadying herself. He never looked away, as he slowly worked her shirt upward, completely exposing her stomach. He bent down, kissing her abdomen, right where her jeans rode so incredibly low on her hips, and she shivered at the warmth of his lips.

"Liz," he whispered softly, his warm breath fanning against her exposed stomach, as he pressed lingering kisses there. "All afternoon these pants drove me crazy. You drove me crazy."

He sounded nearly breathless, as he murmured her name again softly, never looking up at her, never meeting her eyes. Slowly, Liz cupped his jaw with her hand, turning his face upward, feeling the soft bristle of his cheek within her palm as finally their eyes met.

"Michael," she whispered, her tone so gentle, it surprised even herself. Somehow, in just a few days time, such tenderness had blossomed within her heart toward him, coupled with this intense, undeniable desire. All her previous anger and hurt dissipated at his slightest touch.

Her hand trembled slightly where it rested against his cheek, and they could only stare at one another wordlessly, feeling awkward alien energy build where their bodies connected.

"Michael," she whispered again, as she took one step down the ladder, stumbling slightly from the effects of his heady energy--it had spiraled across her skin, electrifying her instantly. Michael steadied her with his large hands around her waist, clasping her roughly within his arms.

They now stood facing one another, eye to eye, their lips barely inches apart. His gentle brown eyes had darkened dangerously, and Liz felt her own eyes water as Michael drew closer. She licked her lips in quick anticipation, right as he leaned close, capturing her mouth in a surprisingly soft kiss…not demanding, or possessive. Slow and tender, tentative almost.

She laced her arms around his neck, her lips parting slowly, as the kiss deepened…became something less tender and hungrier.

"All afternoon," he murmured against her lips, by way of explanation. Liz laughed huskily, slipping her hands beneath his t-shirt, her palms tracing a path along his warm back. He broke the kiss, staring at her in confusion, but she only shook her head vehemently.

"No…Michael," she laughed again, feeling her face flush deeply already. "I’m not laughing,"

"Uh, yeah…you were," he complained, staring at her intently. Michael was so brusque, that she often forgot how sensitive his heart really was.

"Yeah, yeah, I was," she agreed, slipping her hand from beneath his t-shirt, and instead clasping it around his neck, pulling him a bit closer against her. "But not at you, Michael. It’s just this is so new…between us."

He drew back again, cocking his head to the side as he studied her thoughtfully. "And that’s funny?"

Liz shook her head again, chewing on her lip thoughtfully. "It’s like this. For so long, you were like my brother…really. You drove me crazy, I drove you crazy, but now…"

"What?"

Liz stared into his eyes, and traced the length of his straight nose with her finger. "We still drive each other crazy," she purred.

A slow smile played at the edges of Michael’s lips and the scowl vanished from his features. "Elizabeth Parker," he grinned. "You’re one bad girl."

"Me?" She asked, planting one hand on her hip and assuming the sexiest stance she could muster.

"Hell yeah."

And with that, Michael swept her off the ladder in a smooth gesture, gathering her close in his arms. He bent low to kiss her, and their lips met in a devouring kiss. Liz had to arch up onto her toes in order to deepen it, and she urged him lower by clinging to his neck.

Michael couldn’t stop the kiss, couldn’t resist thrusting his tongue into Liz’s warm mouth. God, her kisses were as addictive as Max’s…drew him just as irresistibly. The feel of her tiny waist within his palms reminded him vividly of how amazing it had been to make love to her.

And now she was pulling at his neck, urging him closer, lower…even moaning softly as his hands wandered to her hips, and another hand found its way between her thighs.

"Liz…Liz," he managed to pant raggedly against her cheek. "Are we really…alone?"

"Completely," she smiled, stroking his cheek with her fingertips, as she drew him lower for another kiss. "The front door is locked. So don’t stop, Michael."

Hell, how could he resist a plea like that? Simple, he couldn’t…didn’t even try as he took Liz’s hand and led her toward the break area where there was a comfortable sofa. Their fingers intertwined immediately, familiarly as if they’d belonged this way for eternity—not as if they were new and awkward lovers. Things were changing between them more rapidly than Michael could even account for, much less adjust to, yet the one thing he was certain of was that he needed Liz Parker more than his next breath. Needed to touch her, to feel her bare skin against his, had to have all of her again.

Once could never be enough for him when it came to loving Liz Parker.

She collapsed on the sofa before he did, her lips parted, swollen even from their kisses, and instead of joining her, he could only stare down at her. Her beautiful silken hair was tousled, her breath still falling in unsteady gasps, as she stared up at him with eyes like blackest pools of midnight.

"Elizabeth," he murmured, dropping to his knees in front of her. He had no idea why that made the most sense, rather than simply sitting beside her.

Because you want to worship her…to let her know that she’s the true queen. Your queen, his.

"Elizabeth," he whispered again, as she leaned forward slightly, spreading her legs to him, opening so that he leaned close against her. Just like with Max. Only not…God, Max and Liz were like mirror reflections. They completed two sides to his own soul, just like they completed each other’s and he was dizzy with it.

She threaded her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer toward her, as their lips met with an explosion of color and sound. Instantly, he felt her soul almost touching his, just beyond his reach…without so much as their deepening a single kiss.

Then she was pulling his t-shirt out of his jeans, pressing her hips closer to his, urging him nearer toward her most intimate area. And she was trembling in his arms already, tiny little tremors that he might have missed if he hadn’t felt her hands shaking against his lower back.

"Here?" he managed to ask, continuing to press soft kisses against her warm cheek.

"We’re completely alone, Michael," she breathed in reply, her hands wandering all over his back, his sides. "God, it’s just us for hours…."

She was panting crazily now, her lips pressing against his ear, and he couldn’t stop his own hands from wandering along her hips, her abdomen. Yet on the furthest edge of his thoughts, his other lover danced, coaxed…made him feel utterly unfaithful, even though that wasn’t true.

"What about Max?" he managed to choke, but at the moment, he had to have her, couldn’t wait.

"Max…" Liz drew in an unsteady breath, leaning back against the sofa. He mirrored her action, so that now he was nearly on top of her, pressing her backwards. Just like with Max the other night. Exactly like it.

"I mean, Max…might feel…" His voice trailed off, as he realized how she could interpret what he was really saying. That she might believe he felt more true to Max than to her somehow.

"Max?" She asked again, and he didn’t miss the obvious hurt in her voice—after all, he’d been the one who’d insisted earlier that Max shouldn’t care what happened between the two of them. But somehow it felt different now, now that he was ready to make love to Liz for hours.

Michael pulled back slightly, staring down at her as he tried to interpret her emotions. Her black eyes had become unreadable, but he’d felt her heart shift like mercury when he’d mentioned Max.

"Tell me what’s wrong," he insisted, his voice surprisingly forceful. Yet she only shook her head silently, and her dark hair fell across her face, obscuring it slightly.

"Tell me," he pressed again, leaning closer toward her. And suddenly he was hit by a powerful wave of emotion, as it swept across his senses before he’d even had time to anticipate it. Anguish, hurt…all emanating from Liz’s soul. And all of it his own fault because of his callousness earlier in the kitchen…his insensitivity even now.

"Liz, look," Michael began, reaching awkwardly to stroke her hair away from her eyes. Yet he had no idea what to really say, how to assuage her insecurities about their relationship.

"What?" She asked, her voice soft as rain.

"Just…I…" Michael stammered and for a moment, wished he could bolt, could simply flee the situation altogether. The notion was soothing and seductive…yet so was Liz, staring up at him so expectantly. "I didn’t mean to…to hurt you…earlier," he managed to finish. "About tonight…I was really into the idea of spending time alone with you."

"I know," she admitted. "But then when Max came in, you were like…all over each other instantly. And I guess the two things together kind of hurt."

"Oh…that."

"Yeah, that," Liz agreed flatly, staring at an unseen point beyond his shoulder. "I mean, I know that you’re in love with him, Michael. That’s no secret to me…but I guess that you love him more hurts for some bizarre reason. I mean, it’s stupid, because what else should I expect?"

"I don’t love him more," Michael exclaimed, cupping her face and turning her chin until their eyes met.

"Of course you do," Liz argued, feeling tears burn her eyes. "I mean, why wouldn’t you? You hardly know me, but the two of you were together in your past life. I mean you were together…married. I’m the outsider here." Tears began streaking down Liz’s cheeks, despite how strongly she willed herself not to cry.

Liz swiped at the tears, forcing her gaze away from Michael’s, and he let his hand drop, rocking backward onto his heels where he knelt on the floor in front of her. He placed his open palms on her thighs, rubbing slow circles with his thumbs.

"Liz," he murmured softly. "I’m just more comfortable with him, that’s all. Don’t you understand that?"

Liz shook her head, her dark hair falling across her face.

"I’ve known Max a long damn time, Liz."

"Loved him you mean," she said.

"I don’t remember our past life together, if that’s what you’re talking about," Michael disagreed, raising a tentative hand to brush one of her tears away.

"But you do," Liz argued quietly. "Why wouldn’t you? Max does."

Despite all the emotions that had erupted between Max and himself, he had no idea Max had any memory of their being together before. Maybe Max hadn’t thought he was ready, given his reaction to being told they’d been married before.

"I don’t remember any of that, Liz," Michael continued, making a mental note to press Max for details later. "All I know is that I’ve been around him my whole life, and that he just feels natural to me, where as you…"

"What?"

"You’re a girl, Liz. You know what I was like with Maria…I’m clueless with girls," Michael admitted. "Max is easy to me, but you’re just gorgeous and a mystery and sexy as hell, okay?" He blurted the words out, feeling his face flame hot instantly, especially when Liz’s large dark eyes widened in surprise.

"Can you repeat that?" she asked quietly, tucking her long hair behind her ear.

"Not really, no," he grumbled, tracing his hands upward along her thighs, until they reached her hips. "But you have no idea what you do to me. If I say stupid things, Liz, it’s only because I just feel…awkward…around you sometimes."

"But you don’t feel that way around Max?"

"I’m a lot more comfortable," Michael explained softly. "But it doesn’t mean I feel more than when I’m with you."

Liz’s heart leapt at Michael’s admission, igniting fresh desire throughout her entire body—especially because she was aware that he now cupped her low around the waist, his warm fingers tucked snuggly into the waistband of her jeans. And she had a sudden inspiration…a very alluring one.

"Why don’t you tell me what it is about Max?" Liz whispered seductively, slipping her arms around Michael’s neck, as she drew him closer between her legs. "What…attracts you to him…kind of pretend I’m him? Maybe that would be…more comfortable."

Michael sighed heavily, dragging Liz’s hips closer toward him, so that her legs easily encircled his waist. "I don’t need to pretend you’re anyone else, Liz. That much should be obvious enough."

"I know," she murmured, staring up at him with a flirtatious smile. "But…if you do, then maybe this will be easier…like it is with him."

"His eyes," Michael admitted in a whisper, as he stared intently into Liz’s dark ones. "They’re amazing…the color…"

"Yes," Liz breathed against his cheek, and their lips met tenderly.

"Like the blackest night…"

"No," she argued on a sigh, as Michael’s hands wandered low around her backside. "Gold…they’re like pure gold."

Michael didn’t disagree, just kept exploring her body, his hands roaming beneath her until he cupped her bottom within both his palms. "This, too," he confessed quietly, rubbing her firmly there. "Love his ass."

"Oh, yes," Liz purred dreamily, slipping her hands low around Michael’s simultaneously. She trailed her fingers between his thighs from behind, which was met by his ragged gasps as she stroked him slowly between the legs. "Definitely love the ass."

"It’s…it’s…so full and round," he stammered softly, continuing to slowly rub his hands beneath her backside. "Almost like a girl’s…so curvy and gorgeous…."

"But bigger than mine," Liz giggled throatily, as she noticed how Michael blushed. "And yours, too, for that matter."

"And his chest," Michael continued, as his hands pressed insistently beneath her blouse, pushing upward toward her breasts. "God, it takes my breath away…all I want to do is touch it."

"Like this?" Liz managed to pant, as Michael cupped her breasts within his hands, gentle yet needy all at once.

"Like this, all over…feeling him against me," Michael moaned low in his throat. "So hard…so soft…both at once."

Liz pushed her own hands underneath Michael’s t-shirt, stroking the planes of it. "So beautiful…muscled," she added.

"Soft," Michael moaned, as he stroked her nipples slowly, burying his head against her neck. "He’s beautiful."

"You’re beautiful," Liz countered.

"Not like the two of you," Michael disagreed with a light shake of his head. "Never like the two of you."

And Liz realized in that moment that Michael did love her—every bit as much as he did Max, though perhaps with a different intensity and focus. Every word he murmured about Max, was a whispered confession of his own love for her…admitted more easily as he described the depth of his feeling for their other lover.

Liz’s head lolled against the hard backside of the sofa, allowing her a better look at Michael’s eyes and she was surprised by how dramatically they’d darkened…she’d seen this look in his eyes before, but not when he was gazing at her. She’d seen it when she’d stared through Max’s window on Friday night, discovering them in one another’s arms for the first time. And then she’d witnessed the same expression again when they’d made love right beside her, Max so helpless in Michael’s arms. Michael’s eyes had grown black and intense with desire then, but not when he’d made love to her for the first time—there’d been too much shyness and gentle apprehension then.

But now? All that was gone, replaced by the most perfect image of desire mirrored in those soft brown eyes. Michael Guerin wanted her, plain and simple—and it showed in his hungry gaze. She answered by easing backward on the sofa, and opening herself to him in clear invitation.

Liz stared up at him, her dark hair cascading across the sofa cushion, as Michael lowered himself on top of her as carefully as he could, until he was propped on his elbows just over her. Her legs parted, allowing him to settle his hips against hers, and he felt his erection strain powerfully within his pants. And he knew she felt it, too, because she rocked upward slightly in response.

The moment was unbelievably silent, with all the usual humming sounds of the café gone for the evening. There was only their uneven breathing and the reverential act of staring into Liz’s black eyes. God, he could utterly lose himself in them, right here, right now.

Liz reached a small hand and cupped his cheek, and their eyes locked for an eternal moment. They didn’t kiss, they didn’t move…there was only the feel of their bodies pressed close together.

"Make love to me, Michael," Liz whispered against his neck. "Like you do to him."

Michael’s entire body stiffened at her words. "No, Liz," he disagreed, shaking his head firmly. "Not like that."

"I want to know what it feels like…for Max," she argued, her warm breath fanning against his face. "When you make love to him. And what it’s like when he’s inside you."

"I don’t need you like that, Liz," Michael groaned. "He can never be you, Liz…what you give me…what you give us is all your own."

"But I don’t know what it’s like, the way you love him."

"And he doesn’t know how I love you," Michael whispered reverentially. "And yet we all know, because of how we’re connected. I don’t have to know what you feel when Max is deep inside you, to know how you feel about him."

Liz nodded mutely, and Michael slowly stroked her cheek with his thumb as he gazed down at her. It was true-- he would never know precisely what Liz felt when Max Evans made love to her. Certainly, he knew the feeling of Max inside himself, but not what it was to be made love to like a woman. Perhaps the memory was hidden somewhere deep in his heart, he wasn’t sure, but at the moment, he didn’t care because all he wanted was to be inside Elizabeth Parker.

"Liz," Michael finally whispered gently. "I want to make love to you…but not here, and not like that. I want to make love to you, not Max."

She nodded silently, stroking his cheek with her fingertips in quiet reply. "We could go to my room."

"This is…it’s our…well, Liz, it’s like our first time in a way. Maxwell was there before…hell he practically made love to you at the same time I did."

"We need our own time now," she finished with an understanding nod. "Just like the two of you had."

Michael blushed, his cheeks flaming a warm hue at her words, and he hated how easily she’d unnerved him. Something about her reminding him of the time he’d shared with Max alone, such completely intimate and physical territory between only the two of them, made him feel vulnerable as he lay in Liz’s arms. He knew it was ridiculous, especially when the three of them had exposed everything to one another, yet he still felt awkward at her words.

"Michael," she laughed huskily. "It’s hardly a surprise to me that you and Max have made love."

"I know," he admitted, burying his face against her neck. "You’ve seen us."

"It’s beautiful, Michael," she whispered softly, her warm breath fanning his cheek. "You have no idea just how beautiful the two of you are together."

Michael’s head snapped up, and he met her eyes, because otherwise he couldn’t quite believe what she’d just said. He knew that he and Max were many things together, knew that Max was absolutely gorgeous in his arms, but the idea that Liz could so easily proclaim their lovemaking beautiful shocked him somehow.

"I mean it, Michael," she smiled. "You have no idea what it’s like seeing the two of you together like that."

Michael sighed heavily, resting his forehead against Liz’s. "No, see I do," he disagreed softly. "I’ve watched you and Max together, Liz. I’ve seen the way the two of you look at one another, how he changes around you…that’s truly beautiful to me."

"Then maybe we can create something like that between the two of us," Liz offered quietly, her hand tracing low down his back until her fingers slipped just inside the waistband of his pants. "Make love to me, Michael Guerin. Please."

Michael swallowed hard, and nodded in silent agreement, the only sound in his ears the strong thundering of his heart.

Liz took his hand in her own, lacing their fingers tightly together. "Michael, come upstairs with me…and let’s have our own time alone together...our first time."