Chapter 8
RYLIN
Micah’s confidence in my recipes was stunning. No one had ever believed in me like that before. It both terrified and thrilled me.
“They loved everything I made,” I breathed.
He took a few steps closer, and suddenly there wasn’t nearly enough air in the room. “If you won’t listen to me, maybe you’ll accept their compliments at face value because they have no ulterior motives.”
It was impossible to ignore how his friends had devoured all the treats he’d put out for the tasting. “I still don’t understand why you’d go to all this trouble.”
“You’re overestimating how much effort it took.” He shook his head. “And you’re good at this, Rylin. Better than good.”
I blinked hard again, determined not to cry in front of him. “You don’t have to keep saying that.”
He stepped close enough that the heat from his body brushed my front. “But it’s so damn true, baby.”
I finally looked up at him. His blue eyes were focused entirely on me. There was no pity there, just a quiet kind of pride that made my chest ache. “Thank you.”
It felt inadequate, but that was all I could manage at the moment.
His gaze dipped to my mouth, lingering there for a heartbeat. “I don’t want your gratitude.”
My breath caught, and awareness spread through my body in a slow burn. “Micah.”
He lifted his hand, giving me plenty of time to step back, and brushed his knuckles lightly along my cheek. The tenderness in that touch unraveled something deep inside me.
“If you want me to back off, just say the word.”
I should’ve remembered my rules, but with his palm warm against my skin and his blue gaze focused on me, I couldn’t force myself to push him away. Not even verbally.
My fingers curled into the front of his shirt before my brain caught up. His breath hitched, and his chest expanded beneath my hand.
Something raw and hungry flashed across his face. He dipped his head slowly, giving me one last chance to pull away. But I didn’t.
Our lips met in a kiss that deepened when I sighed against his mouth. His other hand slid to my hip, tugging me closer until my body was flush against his.
This was nothing like that fleeting kiss on the platform, or even the one he’d given me just a little while ago. This was all heat and want and need. Everything I’d been trying to pretend I didn’t feel.
I fisted his shirt tighter, clinging to him when my knees threatened to give out. He angled his head, his tongue sliding against mine in a slow, thorough stroke that lit me up from the inside out.
A small sound tore from my throat. He swallowed it with another kiss, deeper this time.
He turned us gently, backing me toward the nearest table until the edge pressed against the backs of my thighs. His hand skimmed from my hip to the small of my back, anchoring me. Then his forehead dropped to mine. We both stood there for a second, breathing each other in.
His thumb traced the corner of my mouth, his touch achingly gentle for a man who made his living tackling other guys. “I can’t pretend I don’t want you.”
“You’re very bad for my self-control,” I whispered, earning myself a rough chuckle.
“I’ve been hanging on to mine by a thread since the first time you smiled at me.” His eyes darkened. “You have no idea what you do to me, baby.”
He pressed a light kiss to the tip of my nose, my forehead, then my mouth again. A series of small touches that made my heart clench.
“Come home with me,” he murmured against my lips. “Let me take care of you tonight.”
The rules I’d built my life around screamed in protest. The sensible answer perched on the tip of my tongue, but it slipped away.
“Okay,” I breathed, throwing caution to the wind.
For a second, he just stared at me, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard right. Then his exhale shuddered out of him. His hands dropped to my waist, his fingers flexing around my hips, and he kissed me as if the earth had just shifted under our feet.
“Thank you,” he finally murmured against my lips. “I’ll take good care of you, baby. I swear it.”
He didn’t give me time to overthink. After one more lingering kiss, he straightened, laced our fingers together, and grabbed my tote bag from my locker.
Then he led me out the back door to his SUV and helped me climb in.
I watched him walk around the front and somehow felt safer than I had in a long time.
The drive to his place was a blur of city lights and the low murmur of the radio. Micah kept one hand on the wheel and the other resting on my thigh, his thumb tracing idle patterns against my jeans. Every stroke sent sparks of awareness straight to my belly.
“You okay?” he asked at a red light, glancing over like he already knew I was spinning out.
“I don’t know.” I huffed out a nervous laugh. “Maybe? Kind of?”
His mouth tipped up. “You don’t ever need to be afraid of me, Rylin. No pressure. No hard feelings if you end up wanting me to take you to your apartment instead.”
“Pretty sure there’d be at least something that’s still hard,” I muttered before my brain could stop my mouth.
He choked on a laugh. “You keep talking like that, and I’m gonna forget my promise to go slow.”
“You started it,” I mumbled, my face going up in flames.
He gave my thigh a gentle squeeze and turned his attention back to the road.
When we finally pulled into the underground garage of his building, my heart started racing again.
It didn’t slow down as we rode the elevator up, his hand wrapped around mine.
Or when the doors opened onto a quiet hallway that was probably bigger than the entire studio I shared with Jennifer.
Micah unlocked his apartment door and stepped aside to let me walk in first. I hesitated on the threshold, suddenly hyperaware of how out of place I felt. Of the scuffed, taped-up sneakers on my feet and the cheap tote on my shoulder.
He must’ve seen the doubt on my face because he slid an arm around my waist and pulled me gently inside, closing the door with his other hand.
“Hey,” he murmured, dipping his head so our eyes were level. “I’m lucky to make a fuck ton of money to play the sport I love. But I’m no more talented at football than you are at baking.”
A startled laugh spilled past my lips. “I cannot believe you just said that. The best baker in the world doesn’t come close to earning what a professional football player does.”
“I don’t make the rules, baby.” His fingers brushed my cheek, tucking a stray curl behind my ear. “If I did, you’d be paid a fuck of a lot because you’re worth it.”
I rose on my toes, my hands curling into his shirt again. “Kiss me, Micah.”
He didn’t need to be told twice.
His mouth descended on mine in a kiss that stole any lingering shred of hesitation.
He walked me backward slowly, his hands firm on my hips, guiding me deeper into the apartment.
I barely took in the big, comfortable couch, gleam of kitchen countertops, or soft glow of recessed lighting. He was all I could see.
“Last chance to change your mind.”
I answered by tugging him closer and pressing my lips back to his, and his growl vibrated through his chest and straight into me.
Strong arms swept me up like I weighed nothing. I let out a startled squeak and grabbed his shoulders, laughing breathlessly as he carried me down the hall. Then he nudged a door open with his foot, carried me across the threshold, and the rest of the world fell away as he kicked it shut behind us.
His tongue stroked against mine like he had all the time in the world, and I melted, a helpless little sigh slipping out. That sound lit the match.
In three long strides, he was lowering me onto the massive bed. He followed me down, his knees sinking into the mattress between my thighs, never breaking the kiss.
“Been dying to have you here like this for weeks,” he rasped against my lips.
His hands shoved my shirt over my head, and he yanked the cups of my bra down.
Cool air hit my nipples a second before his hot mouth closed over one.
I arched with a cry, my fingers spearing into his hair as he sucked hard, his teeth scraping just enough to make me tremble. I’d never felt anything like it before.
He moved to the other breast, lavishing it with the same hungry attention while his hand worked my jeans open. I lifted my hips so he could drag them down my legs along with my panties, leaving me completely bare under him.
His gaze raked over me, a hungry gleam in his blue eyes. “Fuck, Rylin. Look at you.”
He didn’t give me the chance to respond before he dipped his head again, his mouth leaving a hot trail between my breasts and over my ribs. He lingered to swirl his tongue around my navel until I was squirming.
When he hooked his fingers in my panties and dragged them off, I instinctively tried to close my legs, shyness suddenly hitting me. But his big hands caught my thighs and spread me wide.
I wet my lips. “Micah.”
“Shh, baby. Let me taste what’s mine.”
He settled between my thighs like a man who’d been starving for years. The first slow lick from my entrance to clit tore a broken moan out of me. My hips jerked, and he pinned them down with one forearm and did it again, slower this time. Savoring me.
When he circled my clit with the flat of his tongue and sucked it gently between his lips, my back bowed off the bed. “Oh my gosh, Micah. Yes!”
He groaned against me, the vibration making me shake. Two thick fingers slid inside, curling just right, and he started a rhythm of long licks and soft suction while his fingers stroked in and out. My hands flew to his hair, gripping tight, my thighs trembling on either side of his head.
Every time I got close, he backed off, keeping me teetering on the edge until I was begging, my voice desperate. “Please, Micah. Please let me come.”
He sucked my clit hard, his fingers pumping faster. The orgasm crashed over me like a tidal wave, and I screamed his name, my hips bucking against his mouth as he licked me through every pulse, drawing it out until I was boneless and gasping.
Only then did he crawl back up my body, his eyes blazing and his lips slick with my release.
“First one with my mouth. Now I get the rest of you.”
I reached for his belt, my hands shaking. He helped, shoving his jeans down just far enough to free himself. The sight of him thick and hard with a bead of pre-come glistening at the tip made my stomach flip with nerves and need.
He settled over me again, the head of his dick nudging my entrance, sliding through my wetness. I was soaked, embarrassingly so, but when he started to push in, the stretch stole my breath.
“Micah, wait.”
He froze instantly, his concerned eyes locked on mine. “Talk to me, baby.”
“So…funny story,” I blurted, my cheeks flaming. “I may have forgotten to mention the whole virgin thing. Umm…surprise?”
For a second, he didn’t move. Then a slow, awed grin spread across his face, and something fiercely tender flashed in his eyes. “I’m gonna be your first? You’re only mine?”
I nodded, suddenly shy. He dropped his forehead to mine, one big hand cupping my cheek.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “Breathe with me, baby.”
He eased forward again until the broad head of his dick breached me. A sharp sting made me suck in a breath, tears pricking my eyes. He stilled, thumb brushing my cheek, the other hand sliding between us to circle my clit with soft, soothing strokes.
“I know it hurts, baby. Just relax…let me in.”
I exhaled shakily and rocked my hips. Another inch, then another, the burn stretching into a deep, overwhelming fullness. When he finally sank all the way home, we both groaned.
“Fuck,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “So tight. You feel perfect. Made for me.”
He gave me a moment, sweat beading on his brow, every muscle locked with restraint. Then he started to move, gentle thrusts at first, letting the pain melt into sparks of pleasure.
I moaned, legs wrapping higher around his waist and urging him deeper. “I think I’m good now.”
“That’s it,” he praised. “Take me, Rylin. Every inch.”
He picked up speed, his hips rolling and the headboard tapping the wall in a steady rhythm. One hand laced with mine above my head. His other hand slipped between us again, his thumb finding my clit.
“Mine,” he growled with every thrust. “This pussy is mine.”
The words, the angle, the way he filled me so completely—it snapped something inside me. I came with a broken cry, clenching around him in hot, pulsing waves. He slammed deep one last time and followed, roaring my name as he spilled inside me, pulse after pulse, until we were both shaking.
When it was over, he collapsed to the side, pulling me with him so I was draped across his chest, still joined. He brushed the hair from my face and kissed my forehead. “Thank you, baby.”
I grinned, still breathless. “Pretty sure I’m the one who should be thanking you after that.”
He rolled me onto my back, already hardening inside me again. “Or you can show me your thanks when you’re ready.”
Ten minutes later, that was exactly what I did.