Don’t Deny Me: Part Three Read online

  Don’t Deny Me: Part Three

  Megan Hart

  St. Martin’s Griffin

  New York

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  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Begin Reading

  Also by Megan Hart

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Don’t you believe in second chances?

  —Mick to Alice

  * * *

  Time had passed, but could anyone really ever change? That was the question that came to Alice’s mind in the darkness of her room with Mick breathing soft and steady in the bed beside her. His declaration had led to an embrace, which led to a kiss, which had taken them to her bed. Toe bone connected to the shinbone, Alice thought and rolled to face him. Her fingertips drifted down the line of his bare shoulder and arm to rest for a moment on his hip before she rolled onto her back again. Mick hadn’t stirred.

  He’d always slept hard and deep. She was the one who tossed and turned and woke in the night to go to the bathroom. Now, though she really could’ve waited until morning, Alice got up and used the toilet. She rinsed her mouth at the sink, then looked at her own reflection, turning her face from side to side as though she’d find some answers in the slope of her cheekbones or the shadows under her eyes.

  What in holy hell was she doing?

  “I want you,” Mick had said. “Let me prove it to you.”

  If orgasms were proof of desire, he’d done as promised. Her cheeks heated. Time had passed, indeed, but Mick still knew her body better than any man ever had. Maybe ever would, she had to admit. She’d had a few boyfriends since breaking up with Mick, but none who’d turned her inside out and many who’d never even turned her on.

  In bed, she turned so he could spoon her. Eventually, she slipped into dreams. Fractured images of crashing waves and fields of flowers. She woke again to the first hint of light in the sky and listened to the steady in-out of Mick’s breathing, wondering how on earth she was ever going to give this up all over again.

  Now that she’d had him again, how could she go back to living without her Mick?

  “Are you awake?” he whispered against the back of her neck.

  She almost didn’t answer, not wanting to wipe away the brilliance of the night with the mundane morning. She wriggled against him after a moment, her ass pressed to Mick’s very impressive waking erection. She hadn’t meant anything by it, not really. More a silent acknowledgment of her wakefulness than a come-on … but that didn’t matter when his hand slid over her belly and between her legs.

  His fingers found her clit with unerring precision. Smooth circles, perfect pace. He had her on the edge in a minute or so, then eased off to tease her while his teeth found the back of her neck and the slope of her shoulder. They moved together, shifting until he was inside her. As always, in that first moment when he filled her, Alice made a low noise.

  Leisurely, they moved. Dreamlike. Her orgasm rolled through her; she cried out, wordless and breathless and gasping. Mick thrust once, twice more, and shuddered against her.

  They slept.

  Alice woke to the scent of coffee and frying bacon and toast—did she even have bacon in the house? Bleary-eyed and tousled, she threw on a robe and went to the kitchen to find a feast spread out on the table waiting for her. Cream and sugar had been set out by her mug, which Mick filled for her as soon as she appeared in the doorway. He kissed her when he pressed her mug into her hand. He wore jeans but no shirt. Bare feet, too. Clearly, he was trying to kill her with the sexy.

  “Wow,” she said. “You are really going all out.”

  “Got hungry. Took a run to the market. Figured I could treat you to breakfast. And lunch, if you’ll let me. Dinner, too.” He grinned and kissed her again.

  Alice held the mug of hot coffee away from her body so it didn’t slop. In the light of mid-morning—God, how late had she slept?—Mick looked even better than he had last night. She, on the other hand …

  “You’re so gorgeous, you know that?”

  Alice burst into guffaws. “Oh, shut up! Oh, my God.”

  “It’s true.” Mick looked serious. “First thing in the morning like this? Right out of bed? I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman.”

  She sipped coffee for a second before putting the mug on the table and her hands on her hips. “Look. Let’s just get something straight.”

  “Anything.” He looked expectant before turning to the stove to shut off the burners and slide the bacon onto a plate, which he put on the table before focusing on her again. “What is it?”

  She’d watched this domesticity with a raised brow. No denying that a man who cooked for her was sexy. Still, she had some things to say. “Just because I went to bed with you last night does not mean we can just pick up where we left off.”

  “Where we left off was pretty bad,” Mick said. “I was kind of hoping we’d start off in a different place. I meant what I said last night, Alice.”

  He’d said he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted any woman. What that meant beyond the physical, Alice wasn’t sure. She focused on her own bare toes for a moment before looking up at him, her fists clenched until she forced herself to open them. “Why did you go to Bernie and Cookie’s party?”

  “Because they invited me, and it was a big deal. It didn’t seem right to miss it.”

  That had ostensibly been her reason, too, and she wasn’t about to tell him any different.

  “And I thought we’d be able to … you know. Catch up.”

  Alice’s eyebrows rose. “What, like we were old high school pals who hadn’t seen each other in a few years? Like maybe we’d worked together at summer camp? After everything, Mick, you thought we’d just … catch up?”

  “I wanted to see you again,” he told her. “And yeah. Catch up. Find out how you’d been. I know you think I didn’t care—”

  “I didn’t say that.” Though she’d thought it, more than once, as the years had passed without a word from him.

  Mick gave her a steady look. “Don’t you believe in second chances, Alice? Remember once how you told me that you were willing to make the effort? That what we had was worth it?”

  Like she could’ve forgotten it. Some parts of her relationship with Mick had gone fuzzy over the years, blurred around the edges like a vignette. That conversation was not one of them.

  “I love you,” he’d told her. “On some level.”

  Oh, the anger had dimmed, after a time. But never the sting of those words. They still burned and bit her in her tender places, remembering.

  He took her hand. The one with the scar. It had faded to white over the years. Only someone who knew it was there would even notice it. Mick stroked it now. Then kissed it, sending shivers all through her. He pulled her close, their fingers curled, and put her hand on his heart.

  “It’s worth trying,” Mick said. “Isn’t it?”

  Their relationship had been over the night of her accident, though they had limped along for a month or so after that before it finally ended. Fighting, mostly. Making up and making love, but the damage had been done, and they’d never really recovered from it. It had been the best and worst month of her life—the sex had been fierce and sometimes brutal. The words they’d thrown at each other, both in person and in letters harsh and ultimately, unforgivable. But the passion? That had been undeniable.