6. Micah
NEED THAT
The first face I see when I walk back into the hall isn’t a face at all. It’s a jack-o-lantern mounted on shoulders that look sturdy enough to carry this whole house.
Immediately recognizing him as the man I drooled over at the door, I tuck my bottom lip between my teeth, trying in vain to hold back my smirk now that I’m under his attention.
Even if I can’t see his eyes, I sense them on me, and it feels like a potent promise of words we haven’t yet exchanged.
Damn , he’s even taller than he looked from a distance earlier.
And while I can’t see his face, his head is cocked so I find myself craning my neck to stare at the carved slits where his eyes should be.
I won’t lie, the stitches running from his collarbone and diagonally across the left side of his chest look too real. And so do the ones crawling down the right side of his torso.
Whoever did his makeup needs a raise.
Because if I didn’t know better, I’d think someone had been carving his skin just like they’d carved that pumpkin on his head.
Unfortunately, instead of apprehension clawing its way to the surface at the dark thought, all I feel is a tingling thrill followed by a spike of intrigue as I drink in the rest of him.
He is a work of sculpted perfection. So perfect my jaw slackens at the muscles defining every visible part of him. The circumference of his biceps alone makes my mouth run dry.
I just know this man can fling me around without breaking a sweat.
AKA my type.
There’s no reason I should be this hypnotized by a man whose gaze I can’t hold and who hasn’t uttered a word to me.
My heart gallops anyway, and it’s like he can read my mind because half a beat later, words come tumbling from the jack-o-lantern’s jagged smile.
“You like what you see, pet?” His words are deep. Gritty and attention grabbing. I don’t know if he always sounds like this or if it’s a consequence of his words being funneled through the mask, and I don’t care. Either way, the pulse between my legs quickens.
Arms crossed across his chest, the movement pushes his pecs up. And as hard as I try, I can’t snatch my eyes away; just like I can’t ignore the way my mouth waters the longer I look at him.
“Yes.” There damn sure isn’t a reason to lie about it. He knows what he looks like, and hell if I’m immune to any of it.
With two steps, he advances on me. Without thinking, I inch away. Not enough to make up for the space he erased, but enough to exhale without my breaths tickling his chest.
“Is she waiting for you?”
“W-who?” I back up until the brass handle of the bathroom door is digging into my back.
“The cheerleader you were fucking upstairs.”
Shit . Two minutes in his presence and I already forgot what the hell I was doing before him.
Swallowing, my head moves up and down in a shaky semblance of a nod.
“Are you one of the scare actors?” I gulp, trying to remember what Ladasia said about him earlier.
“That depends.” He lifts his arms to cage me between his body and the door. “Are you scared right now, pet?”
Am I scared? No.
Aroused? Hell yeah.
The notes of his earthy scent soothe me in a way I can’t explain. There’s something familiar about the cedar and mint scenting the air between us, but I can’t place it before my other senses are overwhelmed with the awareness of him.
He’s massive despite not standing at his full height, and the heat pouring off of him has a dizzying effect. I can’t think straight when he’s this close to me. I’m not sure I want to.
For as long as I can remember, dark skin men have been my weakness. And this one is wrapped up in enough arrogance and mystery to pique both my curiosity and desire.
What I can see of the hall past his bicep is empty. It shouldn’t be surprising no one is interrupting us because when I walked through the first floor on my way outside, the crowd had thinned significantly.
By now, I imagine they’re upstairs, too busy fucking or watching someone get fucked to wander into the shadowy alcoves of this mansion.
Dark and melodic, “The Party and the Afterparty” filters through hidden speakers, pulling an exhale out of me when the familiar cadence of the song reaches my ears.
Fingers graze my chin as I begin to mouth the words engrained in my brain, breaking my focus as I peer at the man hovering over me.
“Who pissed you off outside?”
My brows fall. “How long have you been watching me?” Not just watching but following me.
“Long enough to know I want you.” He straightens slightly. “Now tell me who has you pissed off, pet.”
“Nobody,” I say, shaking my head. Tahj is exasperating as all hell, but he didn’t piss me off. And the last thing I want to do is think about my boss when I have this fine ass man in front of me. “It was just my boss. He can be needy.”
His fingers still under my chin and I can feel his gaze searing me. In vain, I try to search for his eyes but all I see is a yellowy-orange netting that makes the pumpkin look like it’s glowing. “Needy, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Then let me help you work off some of that frustration.”
“Huh?”
A dark laugh rumbles from his chest. “You heard me.”
I talk a lot of shit about not letting men get me flustered, but here I am…hanging onto this man’s every word while everything outside of us fades into obscurity. “What you want with me?”
“Whatever you let me give you,” he answers without pause, like he’d been anticipating my question.
My jaw flexes with the desire to form a witty comeback, but all I do is stare at him.
“You wanna have some fun with me, pet?”
“You wanna fuck me?”
“I wanna do more than fuck you.” His head drops to the right. “I wanna hunt your pretty ass and make you come until you tell me to stop.”
Hunt me?
He wants to give me what I’ve been fantasizing about for the past two months, and I didn’t even have to ask for it.
“I want you scared.” His hand follows the sensitive path from my collarbone down to my waist, every touch of his fingertips landing like a sensual caress. “Something about this perfect face makes me wanna see you panting and hopeless.”
In the wake of those words, his fingers sink into my soft waist, gripping me like he’s done it before.
“I need to see what happens when the line blurs between scared and turned on.”
The steadying pressure of his hand disappears as he folds his arms across his chest again.
“You wanna help me experience that, pet?”
Leaning down, he gets close enough to stare into my soul. “I promise to make it good for you.”
I’m nodding before I can protest, overwhelmed and understimulated in the same breath. I want whatever he plans to give me. So much I’m damn near vibrating from the thought. “Yes.”
One word. But it comes out clearer and steadier than anything I’ve said up until this point.
“Then let’s play a game.”
Blinking up at him, I wait for more.
“I want you to run from me. The only rule is that when I catch you, I get to give you an orgasm for every minute I spent looking for you.”