“Never had that kind of response before,” he said, literally all cocky. “Do you want to stop?”
I wasn’t ready to stop touching him, to stop feeling him in me. “No.”
He flipped me over onto my back and thrust in me again. As I watched him, I touched his tight abs, his nipples, his shoulders. He was beauty in motion. His eyes closed, and his face moved through various expressions until he said, “Oh, God.”
Then he slumped over to my side. He kissed me hard, sucking on my lips, skimming his tongue against mine. He fell back panting. “I can’t get enough of you.”
He wrapped his arm around me, and my head rested on his shoulder. My heart rate hadn’t slowed, and I was starting to feel almost euphoric. High. Like a sugar rush.
I reached for my pump and reattached it. “Stay here. I have to do something.” I threw on a bathrobe and left my bedroom.
I pulled out my testing strips and pricked my finger, hoping everything was normal. The last thing I needed was to find out sex with Micah would kill me. The numbers were high for me, but not dangerously so.
Micah joined me in the kitchen, clad only in his gym shorts. “Is that something you have to do a lot?”
“Only like six times a day. Or whenever I want to be sure. I can’t always trust my body to tell me. And you saw what happened when I let things go last Friday.”
“So are you good? Did I hurt you?”
“I’m fine. I felt too good. And that could be bad. But everything’s fine. Everything’s good.”
His shoulders dropped, and I realized he’d actually been worried. This seemed like as good a time as any to ground him in reality. I opened a drawer and took out a small notebook. I sat at the table and opened it up to today’s date and wrote down the time, the readings, and the wordsAmazing sex.
I raised an eyebrow at him. “My weird diary. I keep this so I can get a handle on how changes to my routine affect me.Youare a change to my routine. And I need to make sure I can predict and adjust my diet—and possibly this.” I lifted the hem of my shirt to reveal my pump. “It might take a little time to work out the kinks.”
He knotted his brow. “So maybe next time, I’ll listen to you a little better.”
I stretched like a satisfied cat. “I like the sound of next time.”
He stretched, too, showing off his beautiful torso. “So what do you want to do now?”
I got up and opened the fridge. “Throw something on. I’m gonna fix supper.”
“You cook?”
I peered over the open fridge door at him. “You don’t?”
He put up his hands. “I eat.”
Zion had been shopping recently and stocked the fridge with red, yellow, and green peppers; onions, and strips of beef. I grabbed a pair of peppers and laid them on the counter, then went back for the rest.
I glanced up and caught Micah’s expression. He looked panicked like a diabetic about to be served a plate full of candy. “What’s the matter? Are you allergic to peppers?”
He cleared his throat. “No. It’s just . . . You’re not a vegetarian, are you?”
“Seriously? Would that be a problem?” I closed the fridge and laid my hand on my hip, daring him to tell me I needed to eat meat.
“No. I mean.” His eyes darted around as if the words he was searching for were hiding in the cupboards. He took in a sharp breath and exhaled as quickly. “I can live without alcohol. And I guess I’ll learn to live without the cigarettes.” His whole face was a comedy of tragedy. “But meat?” He rubbed his eyes with his palms. “Meat!”
I opened the fridge, pulled out the package of steak, and dropped it on the table. “We’re having fajitas.”
“Oh, thank God.”
“Micah.” I sat down at the table. “Why do you think you have to give up alcohol? And cigarettes. Well, you should give up cigarettes. But you don’t need to change for me.”
He sat beside me. “But isn’t it hard to be around people when they have things you can’t have?”
“Totally. But I’ve been living with this disease most of my life. I’ve learned to deal with it. Would you expect me to start drinking and smoking just because you do?”
