Page 66 of IRL: In Real Life
Between the few sips of lemon drop warming my blood, the dark glow of his eyes, and the general disrespect my body hadalready shown me where this man was concerned, I felt like I had wandered into a predator’s lair and sat down willingly.
I set my drink down because I no longer trusted my hands.
“Micah.”
“Yeah?”
“You are being very… intentional.”
His mouth curved. “That’s the word we using tonight?”
I turned toward him fully then, one leg folding under me on the booth. “You tell me.”
For a second, we just looked at each other.
We were past strangers, but not familiar enough to be careless. Somewhere in the middle, in that dangerous little space where a man and a woman had spent enough time in each other’s ear to make the first touch feel like it had history.
His hand came up and touched my jaw, then my mouth, just the pad of his thumb brushing the corner like he needed to feel for himself that I was real there too.
My nipples went hard so fast it almost made me angry.
“Tell me to stop,” he said, voice low.
Damn.
I should have respected the question more than I did. Instead, I looked at his mouth and said, “That would be stupid.”
The sound he made was rougher than a laugh.
Then he kissed me.
It was a real kiss from the beginning. Warm mouth. Soft lips. The faint drag of his mustache and beard against my skin making every nerve in me wake up at once. He tasted like mint, bourbon, and the night itself, something dark and warm and male that went straight to the center of me.
The corner booth gave us just enough privacy to be dangerous. High back. Low light. The rest of the lounge close enough to remind me where we were, but far enough away that the first sound I made belonged only to him.
I grabbed his shirt before I meant to.
The cotton twisted in my fist, and beneath it, his chest was broad and firm, solid in a way that made me want to climb into more of his warmth than the booth allowed. He moved with me, one hand sliding to the back of my neck, the other settling at my waist as he angled closer.
I felt his thigh against mine.
His breath on my face.
His hand opening at my side like he was trying to hold me still and pull me deeper at the same time.
My pussy went wet so fast it almost embarrassed me.
Almost.
Then his tongue swept into my mouth and the thought left entirely.
I melted.
One second, I was sitting there trying to keep some part of myself upright and sensible. The next, I was leaned into him, kissing him back like I had been waiting all week to stop acting grown about it. My fingers tightened in his shirt, and the groan that tore out of him went straight through me. Low. Male. Real. It rolled over my skin and settled between my thighs like it belonged there.
His hand spread over my waist, then moved slowly up my back, making every inch of me pay attention. Those big palms. Those long fingers. When he touched me, he did it like he knew exactly where he was and how much of me he had access to, which only made me want to give him more.
I shivered against him hard enough for him to feel it, and he made another sound into my mouth like my body answering his had done something to him too.
