Page 290 of Breathe Like Hell

“Fine,” I relented. Don’t shut me out.

“Dakota will probably want you at my house,” he said, then pushed past me to the door.

“Do you?” I questioned, staring at the back of his head. He stopped walking, his hand frozen on the doorknob.

“Do I what?”

“Do you want me there?”

He was quiet, his face turned just enough that I could see part of his profile. “I want what she wants.”

Then he left.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO

DAKOTA

Micah and I were sitting together on his couch, me draped across his lap and his hand absently stroking up and down my thigh. A movie was playing in the background, but we hadn’t been paying much attention to it. He was being clingy today since returning from Mason’s. I liked it. He hardly ever took his eyes off me, nor his hands.

I nuzzled my cheek against his shoulder, my arms hugged around his bicep. The room smelled faintly like popcorn but mostly like pine trees. Mason was here, too—but upstairs. I always wanted to pry and ask what him and Micah talked about, but I was too afraid to ruin any fragile stability we achieved.

I really hadn’t talked with Micah about anything other than his death and how that directly affected me. Nothing about his past with Mason, or anything else I’d learned about him without his knowledge. There was no rush, no pressure. I loved him, and he knew that. Maybe one day he’d feel the need to relieve some of the burden he carried, to let me fully inside his walls, but I could wait. That day didn’t have to be today.

We had forever, really.

Hopefully.

It hadn’t taken too long for my sex life with Micah to get back as close to normal as possible. He was gaining back his footing on Earth more each day.

I was grateful for that.

We needed this normalcy so badly.

Micah’s fingers flexed on my bare thigh, squeezing my flesh possessively. His touch pressed arousal into my skin, submissive desire sinking deeper and infiltrating my blood. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, his sculpted torso on full display.

“I want to see your wings,” I murmured. “Do they still work?”

“I haven’t tried.” Micah tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, his eyes glued hungrily to my lips. His kapnos was reaching inside of me, straight to my core, and stoking the flame I always burned for him there. Every inhale set me burning brighter, set the tension inside of me winding tighter.

“Try now,” I said, my breathing getting harsher. Now that I was an angel myself, I had more appreciation for it, in a way.

Micah motioned for me to move off his lap, so I did, then he leaned forward slightly, teeth gritted. The familiar void rustled into existence behind his shoulders, feathers glinting like an oil slick in the blue light of the TV. He relaxed against the leather, his wings spread wide on either side of him, his chest steadily rising and falling with his breath.

“I like them,” I whispered, sliding back onto his lap, my thighs straddling his hips. The black veining along his body was almost entirely faded now, and the life was slowly coming back to his skin.

“Yeah?” Micah’s hand slipped around the back of my neck as he inclined his head, eyelids lowered.

“Yeah.” I nodded, hypnotized by the intensity in his stare.

“You want him here, don’t you?” Micah pulled me closer, his lips brushing along mine as he spoke. I couldn’t stop the stupidly-desperate whimper that crawled up my throat at the mention of Mason.

“Yes,” I breathed. “Please.”

“Slutty little thing,” he murmured, then turned his head towards the stairs. No hesitation, no resistance. “Ash! Get down here!”

I barely had a second to react to the name before Micah was crushing his mouth to mine, my stomach flipping, my veins overwhelmed with raw need.

His hand landed hard on my ass, making me cry out, my hips rocking forward to helplessly grind on his unmistakable erection. He wasn’t giving either of us a moment to consider the implications of him yelling Ash up the stairs. No thought, only feeling.