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Take care of Michael

Michael knew ho

as feeling wasn’t about Freddie Jackson Yes, it was his job to find the dirty bastard, and he would He was deteruy had beco With his fa to Hartwell, he’d spoken to his mom only a couple of times, and any mention of his dad made her clam up He worried that without him there in Boston, his dad would return to his old ways, taking all his drunken bitterness out on Michael’s mom

Then there was Dahlia

He wanted to be patient He’d proiant gesture of h all those solid defenses she’d surrounded her heart with over the years

It wasn’t working

Michael was failing at thehe’d ever faced

He was just … failing

Though as he led Dahlia by the hand into his spartan bedroos All he’d planned to do was lie down on the bed with her, feel her there in the dark,was okay for a few hours so he could sleep

He didn’t expect her to stop at the edge of the bed, stare up at him with those soulful blue eyes, and whisper, “Let me take care of you”

Michael would never forget Dahlia’s version of taking care of hiot from her, then he was sure it was more than most men had ever had from any woman First, she undressed them both, and then she’d asked him to lie on the bed She’d hovered over his body, a fantasy of seous legs, and dark hair that cascaded down her back Her full breasts, with their tight, erect nipples, were so te, he reached for them Dahlia had allowed the touch for a second and then curled her hand around his and pressed it back to the bed

“Let me,” she whispered

Michael would understand what that meant when she touched hi their way around and down his body, learning every inch of hi hi so fast He panted in the dark, trying to catch his breath, his legsup toward her in need

But he never lost his patience because there was a part of him that didn’t want her to stop

No woman had ever cherished—fuckin’ cherished—hiht then