Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
CALVIN
“Go change, and I’ll meet you in the living room.” Even the few minutes it would take him to slip into something comfortable was too long. I wanted to keep Micah close to me. I needed him.
My mom always said her only regret about me being an only child was I hadn’t learned to share. I suspected my selfishness had more to do with me being a possessive asshole than it did with being an only child, but it was a convenient enough excuse. I’d never been one to share my toys, and while Micah wasn’t one, I damn sure wanted to play with him. When faced with a problem or a project, I was obsessive about seeing it resolved. This was no different. From the moment I saw Micah, I wanted to claim him.
While Micah changed, I moved to the living room and turned on a few lamps so he wouldn’t return to a cave. I flipped on the fireplace since our Pacific Northwest evenings were already chilly, more so here on the island when the wind came off the Sound. My phone buzzed in my pocket with a string of text messages. Fuck.
Unfortunately, I was right about the text messages. Because we had investments worldwide, especially with our security apparatus, calls could come in at the most inopportune times. A noise from the hall alerted me Micah was on his way back downstairs. A quick scan of the text messages confirmed there was nothing that couldn’t wait for an hour. When Micah returned, I wanted all my attention devoted to him.
“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” Micah offered from the doorway.
He’d changed into new sleep pants, a sweatshirt, and white socks. His slim frame was emphasized by the oversized-by-design outfit.
“Of course not,” I said brusquely, albeit unintentionally.
When I caught Micah’s wince, I reminded myself again that I needed to temper my tone with him. Micah seemed…sensitive. If that were the case, it seemed likely he’d paid a price any time he’d allowed it to come to the surface. I shouldn’t be, yet again, something he had to learn how to navigate. Everything he’d told me about his past was about bureaucratic snafus. Nothing about his family. Did he have any? Had he been allowed to be himself with them?
“Come sit down, and we can go over a few things,” I instructed.
Micah perched on the edge of the sofa. His back was ramrod straight and he was two steps away from bolting from the room. I could have kicked myself for my earlier tone. I fucking knew better, and I was the one who needed to goddamn remember his fears. He was the one taking all the risks here. Realistically, I wasn’t in danger of losing anything except a few stolen pieces if he ended up being a thief. I made a point of leaning back and crossing my ankle over my knee. I was going to project relaxation if it fucking killed me.
“What’s your immediate worry?”
“My biggest worry is that I’m going to end up at the end of the driveway with nothing,” Micah answered without hesitation. “You could toss me out, and I’d have less than what I started with.
“How do you figure?”
“Before, I had a safe, dry place to stay. I had an expectation for my day. Food was scarce, but I was prepared for that. After only one night, I’m already looking forward to a comfortable bed tonight and clean clothes tomorrow. If you kick me out, I’ll have to figure out where to go, and wherever that is will be significantly less safe than your shed.”
“Yeah, you’re right, and I hadn’t thought about it like that. Let me think how—” Before I finished my sentence, the notifications on my phone blew up. I pulled it out again, and the previous situation couldn’t be put off as I’d hoped. “I need to handle this. Will you wait here for me? I’ll be back in a few minutes. Don’t go anywhere.”
Micah nodded mutely. I cocked my head to one side. He sighed, but I waited. “I’ll wait for you, Calvin.”
“Micah, you know what I want to hear.”
“I’ll wait up, Daddy,” he added with a sigh, but I didn’t miss the glance he gave me from under his impossibly long lashes.
“Good boy.”
My call lasted close to an hour, so I was certain Micah had given up and headed to bed. Unfortunately, I was only on a ten-minute break before I’d need to jump on a Zoom call. I went to the living room to double-check that the fireplace was switched off, and the sight on the couch stopped me cold. Micah was exactly where I had left him, curled up as small as possible on that one couch cushion.
He looked so young and vulnerable. His hair was a tangled mess, begging for my fingers to run through it. His shoulder blades were far too prominent for my liking. The months on the streets had been rough on him. He’d followed my instructions by remaining exactly as he was, even in sleep. It was a warning that he’d be obedient to a fault, and I’d need to ensure he didn’t take his eagerness to follow instructions straight off a cliff.
As sweet as Micah looked while he slept on the couch, my thoughts strayed into X-rated territory quickly. My cock stiffened as my mind went straight to fantasies of Micah on his knees sucking my cock or splayed on his back so I could rail him until he screamed. My brain skipped right past the fact that I’d never been with a man or had particularly felt the urge to be with one. Mostly.
That might not quite be accurate because Ronan Gallagher existed—well, exists because I would’ve heard otherwise—in this world. In high school, I was obsessed with him. I’d told myself then it was because I admired how athletic he was and how he had the teachers eating out of his palm, which was true. But I also noticed his tight, lithe frame topped with fire-red curly hair. And I distinctly remembered all the honey-brown freckles that dotted his skin. There was a possibility I had a type when it came to men.
I knew I should’ve woken Micah up and sent him to bed. Instead, I gathered my materials from my office, returned to the living room, draped a throw over him, and settled on the couch. I gently nudged his head until he used my lap as a pillow and settled my laptop on a few throw pillows on my other side. As in the car earlier, my willpower to resist being this close to him without contact was nonexistent. I needed to feel him like I needed to breathe.
When my meeting resumed, I wore earbuds so our conversation wouldn’t disturb him, but my hands never left some part of his body. My fingers combed through his thick curls like I’d fantasized about earlier. I traced over his jawline, the sparse stubble rough on my fingers. His clavicle was far too bony, as were the ribs I could feel along his torso. When my thumb brushed across his lips, I realized he was awake. Instead of moving away, Micah’s eyes fluttered closed, and a small, self-satisfied smile played across his lips.
This boy was born to be mine.
Micah watched me with wide eyes long enough that I knew he was fully awake, but he made no attempt to move away. He snuggled closer and finally drifted back to sleep. I kept Micah tucked into me for the next hour until my call finally wrapped up. Now that it was over, I was loath to let him go again. I was debating whether to wake him again when I realized he’d stirred and pushed himself to a sitting position.
“I’m sorry. After falling asleep the first time, I tried to stay awake the second time, but your couch was too comfy.”
“That’s not a reason to apologize. I didn’t mind being your pillow.”
Micah had curled around himself and kept the blanket over him like armor. He fiddled with the tassels but didn’t say anything. When I narrowed my eyes in response to stomach growls, he appeared embarrassed.
“Come to the kitchen for something to eat.”
I stood, and he followed suit. When I reached for his hand, he didn’t pull away. It was Micah who laced our fingers together and squeezed the tiniest bit. His light touch left my skin tingling and my heart racing. If holding Micah’s hand did this to me, the fantasies I’d been daydreaming about might actually kill me.
Once in the kitchen, I directed him to a bar chair at the island and turned to rummage in the fridge. “Anything in particular you want?”
“I will eat whatever, but you don’t have to fix me anything. I can do it myself or wait until morning if it’s too much work.”
“Do you honestly and truly think that fixing a quick bite is work?”
“It’s not nothing.”
“It’s also not work.”
I chopped a few random fruits I’d found in the fridge while Micah watched. The guilt was plain on his face, as if he should apologize for causing any effort at all. It pissed me off. I didn’t like it. No one should feel that being treated kindly was a chore for others.
“I promise you it’s not work, and I’m happy to do it. I want to do it. Your body is still getting used to bigger meals, so how about some toast with the fruit?”
“That sounds good. Thank you.” Micah’s small smile warmed me more than I thought possible. I wanted to know everything I could about him.
“What were you studying in college?”
“Applied mathematics. I was about halfway finished.”
“What was your plan after that?”
“Most people with math degrees go into teaching.”
“You’re good at not answering questions, but that’s okay. I’ll force them out of you tonight.” Micah’s dumbfounded stare made me laugh. “Little one, I’m joking. I have no intention of ruining our short evening by pressing you for information you don’t want to give when I can ruin tomorrow instead.” I ended the statement with a stupid villain wink which made Micah giggle, and I felt like goddamn Superman.
I joined him at the island when our toast with fruit was ready. Sitting in here late at night reminded me of all the times while growing up that I’d met my grandfather in here after I’d been sent to bed. We’d eat ice cream and play Gin Rummy while my parents pretended not to know we were there. Eventually, my grandmother would find us and fuss until we went to bed. We’d always kept a pack of cards in the junk drawer, and maybe, at some point, I could convince Micah to play a hand with me.
“Do you know how to play Gin Rummy?”
He paused from shoveling food into his mouth like it would disappear. The urgency spoke to a lifetime hunger, not a temporary downturn of luck. My family had been wealthy for generations, and I had no fucking clue what that kind of struggle was like. It left a pit in my stomach to think someone as tender-hearted as Micah had been forced to figure life out on his own.
“The card game? No, I didn’t play many games after my mom died, and we never played that one.”
“You played card games with your mom though?”
“Yeah, but I was little, so it was Go Fish or War.” Micah paused before adding, “Did you play cards with yours?”
“My mom? Not often. She’s not a big fan. I played all the time when I was a kid with my granddad, though, and we still do when he’s here. He swears he doesn’t cheat, but I’m pretty sure he’s lying because no one can win that often.”
“Have you considered he’s just better at it than you?” Micah asked timidly.
“That’s exactly what he says!” Our shared smile gave me fucking butterflies.
I’d never considered love at first sight a thing, but damned if Micah wasn’t making me have second thoughts about that. My gut said to keep going, and that was exactly what I intended to do.
Today, I was determined to iron out the details with Micah. Last night, after our snack, I had to jump back on a call, so I’d sent him to bed. Almost on instinct, I’d pressed a kiss to his curls when I walked him upstairs. He was startled by the contact but then leaned into my side. I might have rushed him into acknowledging he was dating me, but I damn sure wouldn’t rush him into bed. It would always be his choice, but I didn’t mind being obvious about my interest.
My morning started at six a.m. with another overseas call that took several hours. My plan was to spend the rest of my day locked away in my office working on some foundation proposals that had to be finished today, but before I disappeared into my cave again, I needed to find Micah. After a knock on his bedroom door went unanswered, I headed downstairs. When I checked the living room and kitchen without any success, my concern grew. My gut tightened painfully at the thought of him sneaking out in the middle of the night. Whatever he’d awakened in me, I wanted to explore it with him. And I wanted him near me on a visceral level.
Micah was found when I finally wandered into the library. He was curled up, with the throw from the living room, in my grandfather’s favorite chair with his ever-present backpack at his feet. From the big bay window overlooking the gardens, the weak light of the gray morning fell against him, giving a halo effect around him. Whatever he was reading, it was interesting enough that he hadn’t realized I’d joined him until I cleared my throat.
“Oh, I didn’t hear you come in.” Micah slammed the book he’d been reading closed and tucked it down next to him. His expression was guilty. What the hell was he reading?
“I just got off a call and came to check on you. What are you reading?” Micah was struck silent. Did we have porn hidden in here? Micah didn’t answer, so I plucked it from the crevice he’d stuffed it in. “ Common Stocks and Uncommon Profits? This is one of my grandfather’s prized possessions. He was over the moon to find a signed first edition,” I added as I turned it over to look at the back cover. I’d been required to read it in school and didn’t have the same love for it that Pop had.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken it off the shelf or stuffed it down in the chair.” Micah said on the verge of tears. “I’ll go back up to my room.”
I tossed the book aside, pulled him out of his chair, sat down, and then placed him on my lap. “Whoa. It’s a hardback book. It’s not going to be damaged by reading it. Pop would be thrilled that someone besides him was reading it.”
Micah was ramrod straight as he sat in my lap but relaxed slightly when I rubbed small circles across the expanse of his back. Both vertebrae and ribs were easily defined under my hands. Jesus, how little food had he been getting? “What time did you wake up?”
“Seven, I think? I’m not used to sleeping late. Even when I have nowhere to go, or I go to bed late, I’m almost always up early.” The longer Micah sat there, the more relaxed he became. Eventually, he began to sag slightly.
“Little one, lean against me.”
Micah did as I’d ordered, curling against my chest at my urging and laying his head on my shoulder. I turned my head, intending to kiss his forehead, but I buried my nose in his curls instead. I continued to rub his back until the remaining tension drained from him. An overwhelming sense of peace washed over me. I wasn’t religious. Hell, I wasn’t even spiritual, but Micah called to my damn soul.
After a few minutes, his stomach growled. “Did you help yourself to something in the kitchen?”
“I, uh, I wasn’t sure what I was allowed to eat in there.”
“Allowed to eat? You’re allowed to eat anything you want.” After a long pause, I asked, “How long were you in foster care?”
“Which time?”
“All of them.”
“The first time was when my parents died when I was six. My brother couldn’t handle taking care of me, so I was in for a full year. After that, it was more sporadic. I’d go in, and then my brother would do the bare minimum at the last minute to get me back. He’d do it over and over. He never did anything bad enough that they followed through on their threats to put me up for adoption or anything. Just in and out, over and over.
“Were you placed in the same foster home each time?”
“No, foster families usually don’t keep a bed open on the off chance a kid will come back. Yeah, it can happen, but it usually doesn’t. When I was younger, sometimes I’d be put into a regular foster home. Usually, it was a group home, and once I hit my teens, it was always a group home.”
Micah spoke about it like it was nothing. As if bouncing in and out of foster care was a perfectly normal upbringing for a person to experience.
“You still need to eat. Do you like French toast?”
“That’s way too much work. I can make myself a PB and J or something.”
I angled Micah so I could look at him directly. He struggled to maintain eye contact, but I forced the issue by raising his chin. “I want to take care of you. If it’s what you want and what makes you happy, then the extra five minutes, which isn’t asking too much at all, is worth it.” Micah nodded but then ducked his head again the moment he could. “Unfortunately, I’ve got a project that has to be finished today, but I can spare a couple of hours. How about this? We have breakfast at the café downtown and then pop over to the bookstore? I know you found this one, but maybe you can find a few more.”
“Do you mean it?” It was the first true excitement I’d seen from him. The joy radiated from his eyes, which suddenly had dancing stars in them. His genuine smile showed a lopsided, deep dimple on one cheek. Christ, he was pretty.
“Yeah, I mean it.” If this was all it took to make him happy, I’d take him to a bookstore every day for the rest of his life.
“Oh my gosh, thank you, thank you, thank you. I kinda sorta absolutely love bookstores,” Micah said with a happy grin. With so much happiness radiating from him, he absolutely glowed. His bright eyes sparkled with genuine joy and his whole body vibrated with anticipation.
“May I kiss you?” The question popped out of my mouth before I had a chance to swallow it.
Micah’s smile turned shy, but he nodded and then rested his hands against the front of my button-down shirt and leaned forward. His lips brushed against mine before returning for a second round. It took more willpower than I thought I possessed not to grab him and sink into his softness. I needed to give him time, but patience was in short supply. On his third pass, the tip of Micah’s tongue explored and made a quick swipe across my bottom lip, and I gave up any pretense of control.
With a growl, I cupped his jaw with one hand and the back of his head with the other. I firmly pressed my mouth against his, and he yielded with a soft sigh. That was all the permission I needed to enter his mouth. Our tongues rubbed against each other, and all the sighs and whimpers stiffened my dick against his ass. How had I gone thirty-odd years without knowing how damn good kissing a man could be? If kissing Micah did this to me, what would sinking into him be like?
My hand traveled down the column of his neck to his chest. Again, the feel of the bones under his skin pissed me off. He didn’t deserve the hand he’d been dealt. Micah deserved the fucking world. When I found his nipple through his T-shirt, it instantly tightened into a tiny nub. I flicked my nail across it and did the same to the other with a similar result. Micah moaned against my mouth, and my dick hardened further against the zipper of my jeans.
With his dick so close, I had to touch him. His ass squirming against me was painful in all the best ways. I tore my mouth away from his to catch my breath and glanced down. His dick tented the front of his pajama pants. I glanced back up at him, and Micah held his breath. I placed a soft kiss on his lips. “Breathe, little one. Baby, you gonna let Daddy touch you?”
“I’m sorry.” Pink stained Micah’s cheeks.
“Sorry? What on earth are you sorry about?” Micah shrugged but didn’t answer.
I paused to tilt his head up so he’d look at me. “What are you sorry about?”
“I…I…” Micah stammered a few times but couldn’t force the words out.
“Baby, do you want me to touch you?” Micah nodded. “Your dick?” Micah’s nod was more abrupt this time. “Do you think there’s something wrong with it?” Micah hung his head this time before he nodded. “What do you think is wrong with it?”
“It’s…it’s…small,” Micah whispered forlornly.
“Did someone tell you that?” Once again, he gave a mournful nod.
“Look at me.” Micah forced his eyes to meet mine, though his reluctance was apparent. “Daddy decides this one. You understand me?”
Micah’s eek wasn’t the most positive answer, but I’d take it. During our conversation, his erection had flagged, but he still sported a semi. I cupped my palm over him and squeezed gently. When his dick twitched and a soft moan filled the air, I continued my exploration. I’d never touched the cock of another man, but damn, I sure as hell liked Micah’s.
“What did they say?”
“That it was barely a dick.”
I hated the uncertainty in Micah’s voice. The memory of how relieved Micah was when I took decisions out of his hands flooded back. My instincts screamed that taking control of this would relieve him from the misplaced embarrassment of having the sweetest cock I could imagine. And if releasing him from the responsibility of it allowed him to enjoy himself, I’d happily take that burden off his shoulders. Fucking idiots . Whoever made him feel this way about himself didn’t understand what they were letting slip through their fingers. I wouldn’t make the same mistake.