Chapter 12

Sleeping with his host yesterday may not be the best idea, but Patrick couldn't talk himself into thinking it was a bad one either. Michaela had been right; the release was cathartic. It hadn't solved all his problems. His sister was still in prison. His parents were still cool and aloof yet pressuring him to take his place in the company out of duty. But with Michaela, all that went away.

The problem was, he couldn't spend all his time at Kincaid Lake with her. The resort was her job and her family needed her. That meant he needed to find a way to entertain himself. Having no clue what to do, he decided he'd see if Tate was around. Perhaps the boy would teach him to skip stones or fish again. It felt a little pathetic that Patrick needed the guidance of a seven-year-old boy to relax at a lake, but it was what it was.

He headed up the path toward the lodge, glancing around the lake looking for the boy. The area was quiet. Even the honeymoon cabin.

He took the stairs up to the back deck and entered through the sliding door.

"Joining us for breakfast for once?" Mrs. Kincaid said.

"I ah…" Patrick avoided the complimentary breakfast since the first morning when he'd offended his hosts. Now he worried he'd offended them by skipping breakfast. Or worse, maybe she knew what he'd done to Michaela. "Yes. That would be lovely."

Mrs. Kincaid disappeared into the kitchen leaving Patrick to stand in the middle of the great room alone. Where was Michaela? Tate? Even Mr. Kincaid would be a welcome sight.

"I hope you like biscuits and sausage gravy."

Patrick turned to Mrs. Kincaid, reentering the area with a plate she set on the dining table. "Sounds delicious."

"There's fried apples and eggs as well. I'll be back with coffee. Do you want orange juice?"

"Thank you."

She disappeared again. Patrick felt like an idiot as he sat at the table by himself.

Mrs. Kincaid brought coffee and orange juice. "Do you want cream or sugar?"

"No. Thank you. Ah…no one else is eating?"

"Well, we ate earlier, and the other guests left last night."

"I see. Well, thank you."

"I'll be in the kitchen if you need anything."

The food was delicious although eating it alone took the joy away from it. Patrick had eaten alone many times in his life, but he hadn't remembered feeling lonely. Was it because New York restaurants were crowded? Or was it that he wasn't truly a part of this place?

The scent of wild flowers hit him, making him smile.

"Don't eat too much of that. It will clog your arteries." Michaela sat at the table with him.

"It will be hard not to eat it all. It's very good. Perhaps your mom should open a restaurant."

Michaela laughed. "We can't hardly handle what we've got." She waggled her brows. "How'd you sleep?"

"Like a baby…but with dirty dreams." Did he just admit that? He felt his cheeks flush at the suggestive comment.

She snorted and found himself taken in by it. Michaela was like the great outdoors. Pure. Real. Raw.

"How about you?" he asked.

"Same." She glanced toward the kitchen and then leaned in closer to him. "I dreamed we went skinny dipping and had sex under the moon and stars and God himself."

Patrick shifted uncomfortably as the image caused other parts of his body to stir. "That could be dangerous."

"Why? There are no snapping turtles in the lake. The snakes usually avoid people."

Snakes? In the lake? "I was thinking of the windows. We could be seen."

Her smile was flirty. "That's part of the fun."

He shook his head. "I hate to break it to you, but I'm not as adventurous as you."

She stood and patted him on the shoulder. "Not yet, maybe, but we're getting you there."

It appeared she was going to leave. Of course she was. She had a resort to run.

"What are your plans today," he asked. Maybe he could help.

"Clean out the honeymoon cabin. Check the roof after last night's storm. Plan for Fourth of July. The usual. How about you? A swim? Canoe?"

He shrugged. He supposed he could do those things, but it wasn't going to be much fun by himself. Odd how he'd spent a lot of time alone and in fact enjoyed the solitude, but here, it was uncomfortable, lonely to be by himself.

"Is there anything you need in your cabin?" She raised her brows as if she was suggesting something other than more towels.

"Company?"

"I'll be by later." Her eyes narrowed. "Go try to have fun and relax."

He saluted her and did his damnedest to follow her orders. He walked around the lake, noting there were more cabins than he initially thought. It was unfortunate the Kincaid's were struggling to get visitors as the resort had much to offer.

His family wasn't the outdoor type, unless it was a garden terrace in an exclusive hotel. Most of the people he knew were the same otherwise he could recommend the place for a getaway from city life.

When he reached the far side of the lake, he stopped to view the resort. Tired was the word he'd used to describe it. Tired yet picturesque. The work to make it untired was something Michaela couldn't do on her own. He wondered if they'd accept him as an investor. It wouldn't be a new career as he'd come to realize that he had little choice but to return to New York and help with the family business. But he had the money to help Michaela's family and he could see himself coming to visit when he needed a break.

When he returned to his cabin, he poured a glass of water, sipping it as he used a towel to wipe the sweat from his brow from the heat and humidity. He was considering a shower when there was a knock on his door.

He opened it to find Michaela on his doorstep with a basket full of towels. "Room service."

He stepped back to let her in. "Just in time. I was about to shower—" He stopped realizing that sounded like a come on.

She set the basket on the table, removing the towels. "I brought this too." She dug out a bottle of wine.

"It's barely lunch time."

Her brows furrowed in disapproval. "Don't you know the saying, it's five o'clock somewhere?"

He gave her a sheepish smile "I have."

"Besides, afternoons are for resting. It's too hot to do much else."

He went to the kitchenette and found a corkscrew.

"You don't need that. This twists off." She twisted the cap off the bottle. "I know it's probably uncouth or something to have wine like this. Or from a box, but?—"

"I'm sure it will be delicious." He didn't really believe that. Patrick had consumed much wine in his life, and none was from a screw top bottle or box. But he wasn't snobby enough to say so.

Michaela helped herself to wine glasses in his cupboard and poured nearly until it was full. Julia's head would have exploded at that. Patrick found Michaela's lack of snobbish behavior refreshing.

"Cheers." She held up her glass and clinked it with his.

"Cheers." He drank, watching her over the rim of his glass. A wave of need consumed him. Without giving too much thought to his actions, he slid he hand around the back of her neck and tugged her to him, pressing his lips to hers. They tasted of summer and wine and wanted to drink her up.

"Well that worked fast," she said when he reluctantly pulled away so they could take a breath.

"What's that?"

"I figured a little wine would loosen you up. I brought something else." She lifted her brows suggestively as she pulled something else out of her basket…a box of condoms.

Immediately the shimmer of arousal shot up to full blown need. Patrick set his wine down. He plucked the box from her and then took her hand leading her to his bed.

"I take it you needed that," she said in an amused tone.

Next to his bed, he took her hand and settling it over his erection. "What do you think?"

"My, my Dr. Andres. Looks like you're a man with some very special needs."

He was burning up. Desire gnawed at him, but he reined it in, not wanting to come off overly aggressive. "Are you going to help me with that?" He tugged his shirt off.

Her hand brushed over his chest, her blue eyes taking him in. He hoped she liked what she saw. He didn't think he was a physically unattractive man, but he was no muscle builder either.

"I think I can help you." She leaned in, her tongue lapping over his nipple.

He nearly came out of his skin. He groaned and let out an explicative starting with F. He winced, "Sorry."

"Why? Dr. Andres talks dirty. I like it."

"Well then, get naked, Michaela because I want to talk dirty to you." For a moment, Patrick wondered who this man was. He liked a good round of sweaty sex, but he didn't normally include dirty talk. Something about Michaela loosened his sexual reservedness. It was a new experience for him, one he might normally resist indulging in. But Michaela's flirty smile, and the way she gripped and then stroked him, he found he couldn't rein himself in.

She pushed him until he sat on the edge of the bed. Then she straddled his thighs and leaned in toward him, her teeth tugging on his earlobe as she whispered her own dirty words. He grabbed a condom from the box a little embarrassed at how quickly this was going to end. Rolling the condom on was one of the most challenging tasks he'd ever undertaken as she continued to nip and suck on his ear, his jaw, his neck. When it was finally on, he gripped her hips and maneuvered her onto her back on the bed.

She laughed in delight. "Take me, Dr. Andres. I've always wanted to sound like a romance novel."

He shook his head at the way she found humor and joy in all things. Not that sex couldn't be fun or even funny, he supposed. It just never had been for him.

He rose over her, his hand gliding down her body to her heat. His fingers slid through her soft folds finding her wet and ready.

"You're hot and wet." He hoped that was something that would be said in a romance novel. He hadn't read any of the ones she gave him when he arrived. Maybe now he would.

"Mmm…yes." Her eyes closed as she gave herself over to pleasure, surrendering it to him. He watched her fascinated by how open she was. No hesitation. No reservation. Like she was living life full throttle, wanting to experience everything fully.

Maybe that was what he needed to do. His entire life had been about living up to expectations while keeping the deeper part of himself hidden. Growing up, he learned no one really cared about his feelings or even his deepest desires. Appearances were what mattered, according to his mother.

He was here to find himself, but with Michaela, all he wanted to do was not think about his past or his future. This moment, giving into physical sensations, was what he wanted.

"Now, Patrick." She reached for him. He leaned over, kissing her as he positioned himself at her entrance.

"Tell me what you want," he murmured against her lips, rubbing his tip against her soft opening.

She moaned out her desire using dirty words. He rewarded her by thrusting in, hard to the hilt. The moment he was inside, his control snapped. He didn't even try to rein it in. He went with instinct, letting driving need propel him.

"Yes…oh God…so good." Her words powered him until he lost himself in her.

"Come…Michaela…I want to feel you—" His words were cut off when her body arched, gripping him like it would never let go, sending him rocketing to the stratosphere. He let out another f-bomb, as he rocked in and out of her, pleasure flooding every cell of his body and pushing everything else in his life away. There was nothing but her and him and a sense of happiness he'd never felt.