Chapter 39. Brynn
brYNN
All weekend at Micah’s, I’ve fallen into a deep and dreamless sleep after indulging in pleasure I never knew my body could handle.
He awakened urges I never knew I possessed.
His lovemaking is so deeply satisfying; he makes me braver in bed—powerful, even—without me needing to have a flat stomach or be perfect.
As we lie next to each other in our hazy after-sex glow, his hand clasps mine like I could run away.
An NYC boutique hotel could not compete with this posh bed.
His bedding must be woven from that expensive Egyptian cotton; his sheets feel like velvet against my skin.
If I lived here, I would never own pajamas again.
His pillows are like clouds. He must take it for granted, seeing how he lives like a disheveled slob with garbage and clothes scattered about his bedroom.
“Good late afternoon.” He kisses my nose and rolls onto his side. “Where were we?”
He smells so good, like a forest in autumn.
I wrap his free arm around me. “I like you better out of your work clothes.”
“Me too.” He smiles, moistening his lips.
“I meant—”
“I know what you meant.” He gathers me in his arms and I’m floating again. He makes me feel . . . cared for.
“Micah.”
“Say it again.”
“Micaahh.” Like how Eunice calls him over at work.
He laughs. “I feel high when you say my name.”
Oh shit.
“Now I’ve scared you. Don’t overthink it. Just be, Brynn.”
“Be Brynn?” I make a face. “Except that tomorrow—”
“I will continue to admire you from afar.”
He’s pretty damn charming.
“I wasn’t expecting this to happen. I’m glad it did.” He stretches himself long in the bed. His hand finds another part of me to caress. His legs, fingers, and lips stay in continual contact with my skin.
He cups my face. I like it more and more when he does that.
Our eyes meet.
“Want to make out again?” His lips twist into a lopsided smile.
“I think I need a shower.”
“Now you’re talking!”