But for the second time in as many days, I found the house empty when he should have been here. Working harder than I should have to, I ignored the hollow feeling spreading through my chest when I opened the door, and he wasn’t there. After dropping my bags by the coat rack, I walked toward the kitchen. Hope was restored when I saw Sarge’s bowls out of the corner of my eye.
As if he’d timed it perfectly, the door slammed as the smile spread across my face knowing he wasn’t gone. Sarge’s paws scraped along the floor as he made his way to his water bowl. Stopping at my side, he nudged my hand, seeming happy to see me.
Same here, Sarge. Same here.
“Beer?” Assuming his answer, I pulled two out of the fridge. In three or four long pulls, he was finished. “Thirsty?” Twisting off the cap on my own, I laughed. My eyes were fixed on his arm as it swiped across his mouth. He didn’t laugh. His face barely moved. Like stone, he stood there, staring at me. “You okay?”
“I don’t know.” There was so much truth in his answer his voice shook with emotion.
Ignoring my beer, I pulled out the stool at the counter and sat. “What happened?”
His neck tensed as he gritted his teeth. Raking his hand through his hair, he let out a frustrated sigh. Except it wasn’t a sigh. It was a painfully strangled breath that turned into a groan. “I’m just so fucking tired.”
Even though it was clear he wasn’t talking about needing a nap, I opted for the lighter side of the conversation. I’d promised myself to avoid the serious stuff when it was clear last night the heavier issues were the last things he wanted to talk about. “Well, I mean it is early, but I’m sure you can catch an episode ofGolden Girlsand relax for a bit.”
My joke went over like a fart in church.
Without saying anything, he reached for my beer, pulling it from my loose grip. Purposefully, he grazed his hand against mine, keeping his eyes trained on mine. And it was impossible to hide my reaction. My eyes went wide as the breath caught in my chest. “I don’t need a nap,” he mumbled around the dark amber-colored bottle. It was difficult to pinpoint what was in his voice. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t worry. It wasn’t sadness, like there was last night.
It was . . .
“You want to know what I need?” he asked, his voice low, seductive even.
Desire.
Barely able to register the word, shock raced through my body, freezing me on the spot. It became difficult to breathe, so speaking was not an option. Managing a garbled, “What?” took far more energy than it should have. He was a predator and I was his prey, and I didn’t care about being eaten alive. Suddenly, I needed it. My dick hardened behind my shorts and my pulse skyrocketed.
So gently it barely made a noise, he placed the bottle on the counter. Stalking toward me, he pushed the other stool out of the way. The harsh scrape across the floor echoed the chaos hammering in my head and the pounding of my heart in my chest. Inches stood between us, yet he seemed so far away. The distance in his eyes was off-putting, but I could hardly string together the words I needed to ask him what he was thinking.
And when he reached for me, it was clear thinking was the last thing he wanted to do.
Gently, his hand fell to my cheek. It was a much softer touch than I’d been expecting based on the look in his eyes. As he moved his fingers over the stubble there, I found it damn near impossible not to lean into his touch.
It was the only one I’d wanted all these years. All those other men, the times I’d let my guard down and let someone into my life despite the fear of someone finding out, they never mattered one fucking ounce. But this touch. This simple graze of his fingers touching my face. Of his eyes staring into mine.
This changed everything.
Keeping his hand on my jaw, he took the final step, closing the distance that separated us. Wedging his hips between my legs, his heat swallowed me whole. His scent surrounded me, and it was hopeless to fight the urge to inhale him, to take him in and make him a part of me, even if it was something as simple as his body wash.
The veins in his neck bulged as he fought back his words. His head dropped back, but the whole time he kept his hand there on my jaw, as if he feared I’d disappear if he wasn’t touching me. “What, Micah? Tell me.”
His head snapped back to me, his eyes wide with life, with passion. They were no longer dead and emotionless like they had been last night. “I want you,” he whispered. Maybe he was afraid to say them loud enough, but no matter the volume, those words would forever be tattooed on my skin. His fingers flexed, his nails lightly scraping through the scruff. “I want you so fucking much I don’t know what to do with myself.”
Moving his thumb down from my jaw, he trailed it over my pulse point. There was no going back now. Because even though I hadn’t said the words, the torrent-like pulse beating under his finger gave me away.
I wanted him right back.
So without waiting for any kind of response, Micah moved his hand to the nape of my neck, threading his strong fingers into my hair, angling my head back. Towering over me, he dominated me, moving my head where he deemed it needed to go. When he trailed his nose along my neck, I’d never been more thankful to be sitting down. Erratic breaths fell from my lips, and my hands twitched with the need to reach out to him, to pull him close, to feel his body pressed up against mine.
But he needed this control more. It was clear it needed to go at his pace, and I was more than fine to let him have it.
To let him have me.
Running his nose back up the length of my neck, his lips were so close to mine, I could almost taste them. He was taunting me, teasing me with his warm breath. A lazy smile pulled across those damn lips and impatience brewed in my chest. “Fucking do it,” I challenged him, wanting nothing more than to make him move closer to me. “Take it.” Focusing my eyes on his, I begged, “Take me.”
When he pressed his lips against mine, his eyes were open. Transfixed by the mesmerizing glimmer I saw, I couldn’t look away. Over the years, I’d had my fair share of awkward encounters, fumbled first kisses. But this was nothing like that. This was measured, slow, the perfect combination of soft and hard, want and need, heat and desire. As his tongue traced along the seam of my lips, the tether on my control snapped. Giving him access to my body, even if it was only a mind-blowing kiss, was as easy as breathing.
“Fuck,” he groaned into my mouth, his tongue moving against mine in a rhythm so erotic I knew I wouldn’t last more than a minute with that tongue against my dick. He reached for my face with both hands, but then pulled away with one, leaving only the warm touch of his flesh against my face. I hated that he hesitated, but I wasn’t about to say anything.
When he pulled away, he took all my air with him, leaving me unable to breathe. “I’m such a fuckup,” he cursed, turning away from me. “So fucking messed up.” With the tension vibrating all around him, he focused on the nothingness of my backyard rather than me. “I need to go.”
Whatever brought on his change of attitude needed to stop. Like now. Because there was no way in hell he was fucking walking away from me.
