Page 58 of Micah
“Angry?” I don’t understand her at all. I feel like she’s living on another planet half the time. It’s fucking frustrating.
“He stole so much from me, Micah.” She explains. “My body became this vessel for pain. I didn’t know I could feel good. I didn’t know I could feel pleasure, or get so turned on just having you laid out for me. I hate that he took away my chance to explore that part of me.” Her chest is heaving, hands fisted. She looks like she’s ready to lay into someone.
Not someone, Brent. I wish I could hold him for her and let her wail away at him.
I reach out, slowly wrapping my hand around her ankle, carefully pulling her into me until her legs are spread over my hips. I force myself to keep my gaze on her face instead of dropping it down to the wet patch on her pants. But I really fucking want to look. To run my fingers over it. Run my tongue over it.
“You can explore as much as you want to now. There’s nothing standing in your way, and you have a very willing volunteer in me. Anything, remember?”
She smiles shyly. “I remember…you’re sure you’re ok helping me with my homework? Is it ok for you?”
My eyes widen, shocked as shit she even has to ask. “I came in my fucking pants like a kid. It was absolute torture, and I loved every second of it.”
She grins and ducks her head, peeking up at me through her lashes. “I thought you liked it, but I wanted to be sure.” She bites her lip. “I just worry that this relationship is very one sided. It seems to be all about you giving me what I need.” She takes a deep breath. “Is there anything you need from me?”
I’m almost afraid to ask for what I want. But she’s opened the door, and I owe it to her to be honest.
“There is something I would like. Doesn’t mean you have to do it, though.”
“I know,” she says softly. “Tell me.”
“We’ve been…flirting at work. And I love it. Then we come home and it’s like we’re back to just being friends. I love being your friend.”I rush to add, not wanting her to think I’ve hated anything about the last few weeks. “But you kissed me a few weeks ago, and your mouth…it felt like coming home.”
I stop, checking in on her reaction. I will end it here if she looks uncomfortable. But her neck is flushed, and she’s leaning towards me with wide eyes. It gives me the courage to continue.“I respect that things need to go at your pace, but maybe, if you’re ok with it, you could let me hold you sometimes. And maybe we could kiss sometimes.”
I feel like I’m trying to ask her to the eighth grade dance. I feel completely ridiculous, and I’m sure I sound it. But there’s no one here but us, and I don’t mind looking like a fucking idiot in front of her.
Her lips pursed in thought, she absentmindedly reaches out to hold my hand. She’s done this a couple of times, unconsciously reaching for me, and it kills me every time. No way she ever reached out to hold Brent’s fucking hand.
I soak in her innocent touch, mentally threatening my cock with an ice bath if he gets out of line, while she thinks.
“I was a little in my head the last few weeks.” She clears her throat. “My homework was…a lot. And I guess it helped me relax to keep things between us…calm at home.” I nod my understanding, waiting for her to continue.
“I think I got in a bit of a habit. But we’ve sort of let the gremlins out now, haven’t we?” she says with a grin.
I smirk at her, quirking my eyebrow. “Little…bit.” Sobering, I add, “It doesn’t have to mean anything though. We can go back to not touching at home if you need it.”
She’s already shaking her head. “No. I don’t want to go backwards.” She leans closer, her voice a whisper. “I need you to help me not go back. I spent so much time avoiding touch that I’m good at it. It’s hard for me to think of reaching out. Then when I do, I start doubting myself.”
“Help…you…how?” I ask, leaning in too.
“By touching me. Just little casual touches, the way a couple would. You’re doing it at work already, but maybe…more?”
Reaching out, I tuck her hair behind her ear, then cup her cheek. “Like…this?”
Her “yes” is breathy.
I bring the back of her hand to my mouth, giving it a little nip before rubbing it along my stubbled cheek. Her eyes are wide again, and my grin escapes. “Kissing?” I ask her.
Her eyes are hazy, unfocused. Gradually they sharpen as she registers my question.
“Kisses are good too.”
No way I’m waiting for an engraved invitation. Wrapping an arm around her back, I pull her all the way into my lap, checking in for any hints of fear on her face. Her eyes are wide and I swear I see the pulse in her neck flutter. There’s no hint of fear in her face or body. Cupping the back of her head, I bring us closer together, hesitating for a second before slowly capturing her lips. She opens so sweetly for me, so welcoming, but shy. The shyness fades as I sip and taste and tease.
She pulls her mouth away and frowns at me. “Stop teasing me!” Then takes my mouth with the same passion and intensity she showed when she was exploring me on the carpet. We sit there, making out like teenagers, laughing and teasing, until her cheeks are red from my whiskers and I’m about to lose control.
Riding that edge, I push it as far as I can before pulling back regretfully. Cheeks pressed together, I soak up the trembling of her body and her panting breaths at my ears. When our breathing has evened out, I press a gentle kiss to her neck, then loosen my arms, helping her crawl off me.
