“Trust.” He echoes.
“Yes, trust. I trust you to treat me with care…with love. I trust you to make me feel good.”
His face softens, his shoulders drop. Stepping into me, he wraps his gentle arms around me, pulling me tight to him. His breath drifts across my head. “Tell…me…stop” he orders, pulling back to scowl at me.
“I’ll tell you. If something doesn’t feel good, I promise.”
“Or…scared,” he insists.
“Or if I’m scared.”
He seems satisfied with that, leaning down to kiss me softly, before taking my hand, leading me back into my room.
My nerves ratchet up as I lay eyes on my big bed. Being with him on the rug seemed doable, but as he sits me on the edge of the bed and leaves the room, a thousand other nights flash through my mind, setting my heart racing.
He comes back, and must see the panic on my face. “Just wanted to lock the door. I set it to do-not-disturb, so we don’t have to worry about Kade walking in.”
I nod, soaking up his warm smile, then watch as he moves to the bathroom to pull off his shirt and wash his hands. I’m distracted watching him move around the room, repositioning pillows, smoothing comforters.
His expression is rueful as he catches my eyes. “Nervous,” he mutters, rubbing the short hair on the top of his head. “I don’t ever want to do anything to hurt you. When you were in charge, it was easier to relax into it.”
His nervousness is chasing mine away. “Brent never cared, Micah. Not even at the beginning. My pleasure was…irrelevant to him. The fact that you’re nervous about this makes me feel better about it.” I stand, moving to him at the head of the bed, grasping his hand in mine. “We’re going to be ok,” I whisper. “Tell me where you want me.”
“Bed…lay…on…side,” he says hoarsely. I follow his instructions, crawling into the bed, settling on my side facing him. I smile at his low groan.
“I just need to hold you for a while, breathe you in. Then, when we’re both feeling it, I’ll make you feel so good.”He hisses in a breath through his teeth. “My hands are going to be busy on you. That means our communication will be…simple. But baby, the more noise you make, the better. Your words, your moans, all of that is going to help me know what you like, and steer me away from anything you don’t. So don’t you dare hide your reactions from me.”
“Even if I’m freaking out a bit?” I ask hesitantly.
“Especially then.”He says with his trademark scowl.“Don’t hide your fear from me, just to make me feel better. I see you Holly. You always try to smooth things over, always wanting everyone to be ok. But in this bed, together, you have to give me your truth. Whatever that is. Believe me baby, you letting me do something that hurts you, that would destroy me.”
“I hadn’t really thought about it like that.” I admit. “It’s a habit, putting what I want aside for someone else.”
“No more. I need you selfish. Demand things of me, woman. Order me the fuck around. Grab my ears and steer me, please. I will fucking worship at your feet if you do.”
I press my legs together at the image of him, down on his knees, looking up at me. Worshiping me. It’s so far from any reality I’ve ever experienced, it’s hard to even imagine it.
But I want it.
Badly.
His slow smile makes my belly clench. His hands move to his waistband, pushing his sweats down, leaving him in black boxer briefs. Still watching me, he slides into the bed until he’s lined up with me, our skin separated by millimeters. “Come,” he says, voice tight as he pulls me into him, settling my head on his bicep, pulling my thigh over his.
Tucking his nose into my hair, his chest rises and falls with a contented sigh, his big hand stroking up and down my back. Tears fill my eyes as I soak up his warmth and comfort, the simplicity of being held with such love. Because it’s radiating between us, lighting up all my shadowed corners. And it’s not scary anymore. Not a weapon that can be used against me. It’s a gift, delivered into strong waiting hands. Hands that will treasure it, keep it safe. “I love you,” I whisper.
His body stills for a moment before a shudder racks through him. I feel the hand on my back clenching the material of my nightgown. His mouth moves to my ear. “Thank…fuck,” he says like a prayer. “Love…you…m…my…Holly.”
I revel in the feeling of his lips on my eyelids and cheeks, kissing away my tears. I stay cradled in his arms, feeling more connected to him than I’ve ever felt. Like I finally dropped the walls around me, letting him in. I bury my nose in the warm hollow of his throat, breathing in the hints of sweat and grease from his day at the shop. But underneath those scents is him. The musky, fresh smell that is Micah. I drift, wallowing in the warmth, his hand drifting down my back, skimming lightly, teasing me.
Then his fingers creep under the hem of my nightgown.
My breath catching in my throat, my mouth drying, I anticipate his next touch.
31
HOLLY
My mouth drops open as my focus narrows on those questing fingers, stroking down my thigh, then under the hem, back and forth, moving a little higher each time. His body is relaxed, his mouth still pressing gentle kisses to my face, dancing along my skin but never landing on my mouth.
