Free Satellite of Love by Christa Maurice Page A

woke her up in the middle of the night too. The strength in his fingers and the way he pulled her tight like he couldn’t stand as much as an atom’s separation between them.
    Maureen shivered and felt it echo through him. “So you’re some kind of famous person.”
    “I am.” He pushed the neck of her shirt aside and kissed her chest. Her nipples ached for attention.
    “And sex with a famous person is supposed to be lots better than average.” She put her hands on his cheeks to make him look at her.
    His eyes were dark, but amused and a little hazy. “I can promise you a private performance with at least one encore.”
    “That sounds delightful. How about we move to a different stage?”
    “A different stage?” He frowned.
    Maybe that was the wrong word for it. Some research was called for. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”
    “As you wish.” He stood, carrying her with him.
    Squealing, she grabbed his shoulders. God, he had great shoulders. Based on her inspection, he had great everything. He turned into her bedroom without having to ask and dropped her onto the bed, falling on top of her. The moment his lips slanted across hers again, she forgot to wonder how he knew which room was which. Heat spiraled through her. She needed to shed some clothes. So did he. She pulled his shirt over his head. Cloth broke his kiss for a second and he gave a frustrated grumble. The expanse of bared skin distracted her from her own heat. So slick and perfect. Sliding her palms down his back, she luxuriated in him.
    “Are you sure about this?” he asked through heavy breathing. He propped himself up on his elbow.
    “You wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. Why?” Maureen trailed her fingers down his chest. The pause was annoying, but she knew she should be appreciating it. He wasn’t as hairy as she’d thought he would be, but the dusting of dark hair across his tanned chest still seemed perfect.
    “I’ve already screwed up once and I want to make sure I don’t screw up again.” He smoothed a lock of hair off her face. Every inch of him strained for her.
    Every inch of her was straining for him too, but his hesitation kept her from rushing forward. Why was he doing it? All week long they’d been barely able to keep their hands off each other, now twice he’d stopped her. Did he have some other deep dark secret he needed to share with her? Something else he should have admitted and didn’t? Or was he just more neurotic than average? “I hope you don’t too.”
    “It’s just—” He broke off and kissed her soft and sweet. Totally at odds with the urgent need of two minutes ago. What was wrong with him?
    “Michael?” She tangled her fingers through his hair. “What is it?”
    “I know we haven’t known each other very long and I don’t want to make you nervous or anything, but I really like you. You’re special.”
    “Like short bus special?” Maureen tried to smile, but it warped and melted before the expression fully formed. Hadn’t know her long? Make her nervous? What was he going to do? Propose marriage? Propose something super freaky?
    “No.” He stroked her cheek. “Just special. I don’t want to mess things up by moving too fast, but I don’t have a lot of time.”
    “Spit it out, Michael.”
    “I love you.”
    Maureen blinked. She thought she’d been ready for that, but the way her lungs emptied and her gut seized, she obviously hadn’t been. It wasn’t just the words. The expression on his face, the tone of his voice, the fact that he was still trembling. This wasn’t a light declaration for him. He meant every letter.
    Why did he have to mess it up by making it momentous?
    “Maureen?”
    She kissed him to buy time to summon up an appropriate answer. Nothing was coming. If she didn’t give him something, she was going to poke a hole in his ego that would have it flying around the room like a runaway balloon. “Show me,” she whispered. “There’s a box of condoms on the