Free I Love My Hope (Nicole's Erotic Romance) by Sabrina Lacey Page A

watch over him… okay?”
    Only
silence is my answer.
    I look
toward the paintings, thinking about his dream. How can that have happened? I
look back up to the ceiling, desperately. “I’m serious. Make sure he’s here
tomorrow. I can’t take another heartbreak so soon. Look at me! I’m chattering
to myself, alone in my apartment.” I stare, waiting for a response I know will
not come. Sighing and giving up, I’m surprised by a knock on the door.
    He came
back for more kisses!
    “Oh, I
don’t think I’ll be able to turn him away if he wants more,” I mumble,
excitedly running over to swing open the door.
    Standing
there with fire in his eyes, his strong jaw set firm, is the last person I
would expect to see at my home. “Who was that?”
    My heart
stops. “What are you doing here? Were you following me, Michael?”
    He pushes
past me. “Close the door.”
    I’m so
shocked. I comply without argument. I follow him as he storms into my studio.
He scans the place fast. His glare lands firmly on the two large piles of
paintings, askew from Mark’s perusal. Michael marches to them and picks one
painting up, then another, and another, until he’s devoured them all like a
blind man who’s been given one day to see…but only one.
    I’m
silent as I watch. What does he think? Does he like them? Sweat sparkles on my
forehead and in between my breasts. My chest is heaving from astonishment. I
bring my palms together and subconsciously hold them in the prayer position,
the tips of my fingers touching under my chin. Michael sets the last one down,
looking straight at the wall in front of him. His voice is hoarse and pained.
“Who was that guy you were with?”
    I don’t
answer. I’m so angry with myself, because for the life of me I can’t help but
be elated by his presence. His being here should be repulsive to me, but I’m so
happy that he’s here! The conflict is a nightmare I can’t wake from.   Tears blur my vision and I can’t think
of a single thing to say.
    His head
turns as though on a swivel and he glares at me, raking over my body because
it’s plain that I’m dressed-up and in his mind this means I had a date with
Mark, maybe not our first. The jealousy bursting out from his skin is
intoxicating. To see how much he cares, so plainly on his face... I can’t
believe it!
    “Who was
that? Why aren’t you answering me?” He aches as asks. He isn’t hiding the
torture inside him. I want to punish him. I want him to hurt more than he hurt
me, if that’s even possible.
      “I don’t have to tell you anything,” I
whisper.
    “Fine!”
he growls and yanks free of the visual hold I’ve got him in.
    He storms
by me to the front door. From deep inside my soul comes an
anger unknown to me. As he passes me, I leap onto his back, clawing at
his head and snarling, “How dare you come here and act like you own me!” He
spins in circles, growling at me as I kick at him with my dangling legs,
holding on for dear life. He reaches back, grabs hold of my thighs and wrestles
me to the ground. He pins my arms down. I fight and twist against him, tears
racing. I’m overpowered by the ravenous desire for him to kiss me or die, or
both.
    I yell into
his face, “I hate you! I hate you!”
    “Stop it!
Stop it, Nicole!” he roars. The war rages inside him, mirrored back to me in
his eyes – both of us haunted and tormented by impossibility.
    He lunges
and kisses me hard on the mouth. I bite his lip harder. He yells and jumps off
me as blood oozes out from a small hole I made with my teeth. Both our chests expand
and contract rapidly with our wailing heartbeats as we stare furiously at each
other. I scramble to a seated position, fast, holding onto the floor with both
hands as I stare at him, looking like a crazy woman – no more crazy than
he is.
    He turns
to leave and freezes, torn. I can’t stop myself from whispering, “Michael…oh
God… don’t go.”
    He grabs
the door handle, his knuckles white like