The Only One He Wants

“Wine, maybe.” His deep bass echoed through the walls.

“On its way,” she replied as she grabbed a bottle of red wine and two glasses. Three blankets were in her arms.

When she came back into her room Michael had his shirt off, sitting on the bed. His muscular body got her blood pressure going as she sensed something stir inside her. He was a very good-looking, charming man.

“Here,” she put the blankets all around him, engulfing his body.

“Thanks. Let me open that.” Michael took the bottle and, after popping it, he poured a bit of its contents into the two glasses.

“Cheers,” Gabrielle said, staring at Michael’s dark eyes. It was like they held all the love and kindness in the whole world.

“To us!” Michael added before the red liquid found its place in his throat.

It was dark in the room and neither of them stood up to switch on the light. The reason was simple enough. They didn’t want to.

Their eyes met, exchanging silent words and emotions. Michael’s hand was slowly creeping towards her. And then it caught her. Slowly he put his fingers on top of hers. Gabrielle bit her lower lip. Their dreams and desires were floating around them as if palpable.

He leaned closer. His skin was still wet from the rain. He was breathing heavily. Gabrielle’s nostrils picked up a powerful, potent, masculine scent from his cologne.

“I’m cold, Gabrielle Basset,” he whispered in his seductive voice. “Can you please warm me up? The wine and blankets don’t work, it seems.”

The light from the window was very dim. The moon was hiding under the heavy, dark clouds which carried rain. She couldn’t see his face or his features, but she knew where they were.

As a matter of fact, his nose was buried in her neck, tickling her. His cold hand was on her waist, which made her back away only a bit and shiver.

“What do you suggest?” Gabrielle’s voice was huskier because of not using it.

She tickled him. “No, I love you more,” she said through her laughter. It was his turn to laugh.