Essence of Desire Read online

  “Thanks,” she said, quickly pulling her hand from his once she stood on her feet.

  “Any time.”

  She glanced around and saw the rest of her family had left for the kitchen so she decided to use that time to talk to Royce privately. “What are you doing here?” she whispered hotly.

  “Your grandmother invited me. I think she mentioned that. She took pity on me in the grocery store,” he said.

  Michelle narrowed her eyes. “My grandmother takes pity on everybody. You should have turned her down. You knew I would be here.”

  He lifted a brow. “And?”

  “And so, why you’re here?”

  He moved closer, reached out, and tipped up her chin. He moved his mouth just a breath away from hers and said in a whispered voice. “Sweetheart, I hate to disappoint you, but the fact that you would be here had nothing to do with me taking your grandmother up on the invitation to dinner. Her going into details about what was on the dinner menu was the clincher.”

  He then dropped his hand, stepped back and headed off toward the kitchen.

  ***

  Two minutes after Royce sat down at the dinner table with the others Michelle walked in. He saw the agitation she tried hiding once discovering she would be sitting next to him.

  “You’re late again,” her grandfather said after she’d gotten settled.

  She gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I had to make a pit stop to the bathroom.

  Maybe it was the closeness of the family that captivated Royce; or the way Jordan had been accepted into the family fold so lovingly that drew Royce to the Kincaids. Both Michelle’s parents and grandparents were friendly people who were big on family and with only two daughters and granddaughters, it was easy to see that the two older men had embraced Jordan as the son and grandson they’d never had. He could only imagine how they must have felt when Sawyer had been born, a male in the family.

  Royce sat there and ate the delicious food while observing those around him, getting involved in the conversation only when a question or comment was addressed to him. Everything was calm. Everyone was pleasant, happy to be enjoying a meal together. They were displaying the very things he had missed out on during his childhood.

  He couldn’t help but recall how the family dinner hour had been at his house while growing up. More often than not, the meal would be interrupted with his parents’ constant arguments as they bickered back and forth. Any simple disagreement would eventually turn into World War III, and he and his siblings would just sit there and watch what would eventually become the Parker Drama Hour.

  Royce was lucky that Jordan’s family had lived across the street. The Prescott’s house had become his home away from home, and there were times when he had spent more time there than he had at his own house.

  How and why his parents’ marriage had lasted as long as it had was still something he couldn’t figure out to this day. They had finally done both themselves and their offspring a favor when they’d gotten a divorce during his second year in college. He was amazed at what different people they had become. Both had remarried and seemed happy and content with their current spouses.

  “How’s the food, Royce,” Constance Kincaid asked him.

  He smiled, thinking Michelle was blessed to have a grandmother so caring. “Everything tastes good. I haven’t eaten a home cooked meal in years.”

  “Well, you’re welcome any time we have these family meals,” Hasting Kincaid said.

  Royce smiled over at Michelle’s grandfather. “Thank you, sir, but I wouldn’t want to wear out my welcome.”

  “Nonsense. You’re Jordan’s best friend so we consider you family,” the elder man responded.

  Royce wondered if he was the only one who noticed how Michelle stiffened, although she didn’t say anything, and she didn’t look his way. She continued eating but he felt the aggravation he knew was running through her. He knew she prided herself on having complete control of her mind and body, but he had this innate ability to make her lose control, something she didn’t like doing.

  There were some things that couldn’t be helped, like the flow of electricity he felt between them. Glancing around the table it was obvious that no one else had noticed it. Well…maybe Dominique had noticed since he’d picked up on her giving Michelle more than one curious glance during the course of the meal.

  Probably feeling a bit more comfortable with Michelle sitting at his side than he ought to be, he finished dinner and made it through dessert while the Kincaids and Prescotts kept him entertained. Dominique had to share with everyone Sawyer’s progress and how he was trying to add more words to his vocabulary.

  Royce couldn’t help but watch the smile on Michelle’s face while she listened to her sister and whenever she glanced over at her nephew who was sitting in a highchair. The smile was genuine and he wondered if she ever considered giving birth to her own child one day. Although the other men’s attention had been glued to the television while watching the news earlier, he hadn’t been able to keep his gaze from drifting over to her.

  He would be the first to admit what had originally claimed his attention was her in those shorts and the smoothness of her thighs, legs and hips. Her body and what she was wearing had captured his attention the moment she had entered the living room.

  But what had continued to hold his attention was seeing her on the floor playing with Sawyer. She had looked a lot younger than twenty-nine. At five’ two and with her hair back in a ponytail and a bang covering her forehead, she had looked seductive in an innocent sort of way.

  Twenty-nine.

  He wondered if getting close to the big three-o bothered her like it did a lot of women. According to his brother-in-law, his own sister had gone through a number of changes and had even talked him into going up in a hot-air balloon for her birthday.

  “You get stuck with the dishes tonight, Michelle, since you didn’t help with dinner,” he heard Stephanie Kincaid say to her daughter.

  “Not a problem,” Michelle said as she pushed back from the table. “Most of them are going into the dishwasher anyway.”

  “I’ll help you, Michelle,” Royce heard himself speak up and say. He didn’t miss the narrowed look she threw his way as she stood up.

  “Thanks, but I can handle things.”

  “I’m sure you can but I want to help. It’s the least I can do after such a wonderful meal.” He strongly suspected that she would love to empty whatever was left in the gravy bowl she held in her hand right over his head.

  Their gazes met and he could see signs of mischief in her eyes. He stood and angled his body close to hers in a way that no one would notice, lowered his head slightly and whispered, “Don’t even think of doing it, sweetheart. I believe in paybacks. Remember?”

  He could tell from the blush that settled in her cheeks that she had remembered. That night, the one and only time they had slept together, the hotel had become their battleground in more ways than one. She had tried more than once to break him, make him beg, and he had retaliated by using tactics he was sure she’d never heard of to make her the one doing the begging. She may have brought him to his knees a few times that night, but he had done the same to her.

  She released an irritating sigh and tried ignoring him while she went about clearing off the table before leaving the dining room to go into the kitchen. Although he knew she wished otherwise, he intended to help her. Everyone else began heading for the living room.

  Dominique smiled over at him and spoke up and said, “Don’t worry about helping Michelle with the dishes, Royce. I can do it, since she didn’t help with the cooking because she was entertaining Sawyer.”

  He returned Dominique’s smile. “I don’t mind. Besides, Michelle and I need to discuss a few things anyway.”

  Dominique cast an uncertain gaze. “You sure?”

  He chuckled. “Positive.”

  She gave him a look that all but said, entering that kitchen would be tantamount to walking into a
lion’s den, and said, “If you think that’s best.”

  He widened his smile and said, “Trust me, I do.”

  Six

  Michelle stood in the middle of the kitchen with her arms crossed over her chest and impatiently tapped her foot while waiting for Royce to walk through the door. She wasn’t just angry, she was fighting mad furious.

  First of all, other than Dominique, and possibly Jordan, there was probably not another person at that table who could have imagined how uncomfortable she’d been during the entire meal. It didn’t matter that it had been two years and that they’d seen each other a number of times since. Nor did it matter that she had seen him earlier that day and he’d come close to kissing her senseless.

  What did matter was that like the last time when she had been tempted to jump his bones, and had ended up doing that very thing, she had been between affairs and hadn’t been intimate in a long time. All it took was a man like Royce to remind her of that fact, without saying a single word.

  It was the way he could look at her that reminded her of the way he had looked at her that night, the same way he’d looked at her earlier that day and on Monday. It was a look that said he would all but like to gobble her up and she knew first hand that he could.

  Mercy. She’d had to sit there beside him and watch how he had cupped his tea cup during dinner and remember the way he had cupped her breasts; how his brown fingers had traced a path around each nipple, underscored each twin mound before his mouth had taken over.

  Then there had been the way he had a tendency to lick his lips after enjoying something that had agreed with his taste buds. He would take his tongue and run it across his top lip. He had done so several times that night in the hotel room after he’d gotten a taste of her.

  Michelle inhaled deeply. This was not the way she had planned for things to go. The only reason she had agreed to go out with him tomorrow night was because she figured she could be in control, calling the shots. Prove a point. She had purchased a new outfit just for that purpose. Walking into her grandparents’ home and finding him here was the last thing she had expected. Her pulse had jumped the moment she had seen him. Her panties had gotten wet.

  She didn’t like surprises. She liked events planned well in advance. She liked being in control. She detested being bowled over, astounded or amazed. Under no circumstances did she do bombshells. Even that night, whether he’d known it or not, his seduction had been planned. It hadn’t been a coincidence that she’d shown up at his room. Although she would admit he had caught her off guard by being naked when she’d gotten there. She had been willing to overlook that incident since it had definitely ended up being a night well worth her time and his effort.

  But still, he had a lot of nerve coming here tonight. If her parents or grandparents thought for one minute that there was anything between them, she would never hear the last of it. With Dominique married off and with child, they had turned their sights on her. The only reason they had backed off was because they knew more than anyone that she was a rebel. And any time they had tried encouraging her to do anything, she had done just the opposite for spite. Granted, she had outgrown many of her radical tendencies, they thought its best to leave her alone to find her own man, or not find one. They honestly thought, or had given up on the idea, of one existing who could handle her. And rightly so.

  Any further thoughts left her mind when the kitchen door swung open and Royce walked in carrying a couple of plates in his hands. He glanced her way and put the plates on the counter before turning to face her.

  She knew from her expression and stance he could tell that she was upset, so she figured he should have been shaking in his boots if he had been wearing any. Instead, he looked calm, cool and collected. He stood tall, straight, his legs braced apart with his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. The gaze looking at her was direct; he didn’t flinch. And she hated admitting it but he stood there looking good enough to eat, definitely delicious enough to lick all over a few times.

  She inhaled deeply. She was mad with him. Highly upset. How on earth could she find him desirable when her anger level was at an all time high? But for some reason she couldn’t discount the sudden flow of heat that inched down her spine. Nor could she discount the way the air between them seemed charged, filled with electrical currents.

  “I take it that you have a bone to pick with me or feel that you do,” he said, finally breaking the silence between them.

  His words made her recall her anger and she regained ground along with an awareness of what little control she had with him. “You’re trying to play games with me, Royce.”

  “You’re wrong. I don’t have to play games with you. Frankly, why would I? We’ve always known where we’ve stood with each other.”

  She lifted a brow while lowering her arms to her side. Had they always known? Since when?

  “You like to be in charge. So do I,” he went on to say. “I know that poses a problem for you but not for me. We’ll work through it.”

  Now that set her off. “We won’t work through anything, Royce,” she said coolly. “And I will not have my family thinking things about us.”

  “What things?”

  When she didn’t answer, he lifted a brow, waiting.

  “That something is going on between us,” she finally said.

  “Why would they think that? I only showed up for dinner because your grandmother invited me. Before that it was plain for anyone to see that you were avoiding me.”

  There was no reason for her to deny it. “I didn’t want you to get any ideas.”

  “You didn’t have to do me any favors because I didn’t get any ideas. I wouldn’t have. I’m no more interested in an in-depth relationship with a woman than you are with a man.

  “Then why did you ask me to go on that cruise with you? Why are you going out with me tomorrow night?” she asked with much more vehemence than she intended.

  He took a step to cover the distance between them. “Because, although I’m not interested in an in-depth relationship with a woman, there’s something about you that has me curious. I want to know why such a beautiful, confident and independent woman goes out of her way to turn strong guys off. Why someone like you would be attracted to a weakling, someone who would jump through your hoops, never stand up to you about anything. Why wouldn’t you want a man who would keep you on your toes, shake you up a bit, make you beg sometime, just for the hell of it.”

  His words conjured up another image of that night. He had driven her to begging. She could remember it well. Both of them naked in bed, her breasts firm and sore from his kisses, her legs lifted high on his shoulders, his head between her legs, while he worked his mouth and tongue to give her yet another orgasm. Another one that she had begged for. Not just for the hell of it, but because she had wanted it with an intensity she’d felt in every part of her body. And when it came, like the others, it had been an explosion just waiting to happen. An explosion that did happen. One of many that night. Her body had throbbed for days from the memories.

  She took a step backward and then quickly turned to the sink. “Look, we need to talk about something else. In fact, let’s not talk at all. We have a lot of dishes to work through.” She knew she was doing the very thing she said she wouldn’t do with him, run, hide and retreat. What happened to her decision to confront things head on?

  “Fine, we might not finish this conversation tonight but we will finish it. Unlike some men, strong-willed women don’t scare me off. They turn me on.”

  She snatched her head around and met his gaze.

  “And they don’t intimidate me. They arouse me,” he added. “And,” he said, moving closer to her. “I find there’s a vast difference between a woman who’s naturally strong and comfortable with that strength, compared to someone who’s just obsessed with displaying an image of strength but is vulnerable just like the rest of us.”

  She tore her eyes from his and for the moment, in the depths of her subconsc
ious, she recalled the time she had actually gotten the nerve to run away from home at sixteen. She’d made it as far as Daytona before changing her mind after feeling more alone and scared than at any other point and time in her life. That was the first time she’d felt her strength to do whatever she wanted to do weaken and waver.

  “So, how can I help with the dishes?” he asked. “What do you want me to do first?”

  She shrugged without looking at him, knowing he was deliberately changing the subject. He had made what he probably considered a closing argument and was ready to move on. “It really doesn’t matter,” she said thinking that in addition to being arrogant, he was also very shrewd.

  He nodded slowly. “Okay then. I’ll load everything in the dishwasher after you rinse.”

  Michelle had a mind to walk out and let him do everything himself but she refused to do that. She resisted the urge to run, hide or retreat. She would deal with Royce or die trying.

  ***

  Royce let himself inside his condo a few hours later. It didn’t take long for him and Michelle to clean up the kitchen, which had been done in amicable silence. More than once he’d tried drawing her into conversations and her response had been no more than one-or two-word sentences. After a while, he’d just given up and decided if he couldn’t talk to her he would be satisfied with being in her presence and in the midst of her aroma. He had discovered during the time he had known her that she didn’t have a signature perfume. She wore various fragrances, depending on the occasion. But as a man familiar with women and the cologne they wore he was well aware that whatever perfume she wore came with a high price tag.