Page 117 of Micah

Because I've never had anything this important before.

I've never looked at another human being and thought, Please don't leave.

Not because I'd be lonely.

Because I honestly don't know who I'd be without you anymore.

That's a dangerous place for a man like me.

Especially one who's spent most of his life believing emotions were liabilities.

Then again, looking at Sloane standing in my clothes, all soft, sexy, and perfect, and I'm beginning to think some risks are worth taking.

She crosses the space between us, and my gaze clocks the sway of her breasts beneath the shirt, and that tantalizing hint of thigh flashing with each step she takes.

“Sloane,” I growl, and it sounds like a warning.

Maybe it is.

“Micah, I’ve been thinking,” she begins, and every part of me zeroes in on her.

Nothing else exists.

Not the cabin.

Not the rain that just started tapping softly against the windows.

Not the phone sitting forgotten on the counter.

Just her.

She twists her fingers together before letting them fall to her sides.

“Tonight could’ve gone bad,” she says quietly. “Really bad.”

A low sound escapes my chest before I can stop it.

Her eyes snap to mine.

I clear my throat, forcing my face back into something resembling calm.

She doesn't need to know where my mind has already gone.

She doesn't need to know I've replayed the whole thing a hundred times since leaving the bar.

Every second.

Every possible outcome.

Every scenario where I arrived thirty seconds later.

A minute later.

Too late.

The thoughts make something ugly crawl beneath my skin.

Feral.