6. Micah
6
MICAH
Sleep is fucking elusive.
Though I expected Avery to be mildly upset about my plot to sway her to adopt Henry— us to adopt him—I didn’t expect her outright anger. I know her last words were spoken in ire, that she doesn’t really mean them, but they sting all the same.
I fucking hate you right now.
I slip on a pair of sweatpants and head for the kitchen. I don’t think a late night PB&J will do much to help me sleep, but I’m willing to give it a shot. If that doesn’t work, I might head upstairs to paint.
I’m careful to stay light on my feet and close my door quietly. Though Avery’s room is down the hall, certain creaks in the floor echo throughout the entire house. Something Declan has promised he’ll help me fix once he’s settled in his new place. No matter what happens with Avery, I’m still planning to buy this house.
Thankfully, the water damage we discovered in the wall upstairs was an isolated incident. A reminder from a bad rainstorm last year and a broken attic window that was fixed but apparently let in more water than we realized. Malcom, Declan’s older brother, texted me the good news while I was at the park earlier with Avery and Henry.
I’m still disappointed that we took Henry back to the shelter. Those two are a bonded pair. I don’t know why she can’t accept that they belong together. That the three of us belong together.
Halfway to the kitchen, a loud creak echoes. Turning, I discover Avery frozen in the hall like a deer in headlights. Bare legs are covered only by an oversized t-shirt that hangs halfway down her thighs. My t-shirt.
My dick twitches with interest.
“I’m still mad at you,” she said, glaring at me in the dimly lit hall.
If she were wearing anything else, I might give her some space. But now things are starting to make a little more sense. She’s mad, at least in part, because she wants me. And she wishes she didn’t.
I slowly strut her way, not above playing dirty if it’ll help her drop the damn wall she’s fortified around her heart when it comes to us.
She backs up against the wall, pressing her palms against the wallpaper—something else that’ll need to go—as I cage her in with a hand on either side of her. “You are?” I ask, a devilish grin spreading.
“Yes,” she says, but her answer doesn’t hold much conviction. Her chest rises and falls quickly, but it’s not fear. Oh no. There’s liquid heat in those beautiful eyes. Her fingers curl against the wall, as though she’s desperate to reach for me. What will it take for her to give up the fight? To finally surrender to what’s been simmering between us since our college days?
I peer down at her, raking my greedy gaze down the length of her body. “Do you always steal someone’s clothes when you’re mad at them?”
“Wh—” She glances down at the shirt, and her agape mouth clamps shut.
I lower my head, until my lips are a feather’s width from the shell of her ear, and ask, “Was that why you were really in my closet, Avery?”
“I—I?—”
I trace my fingertip along her jawline, ever so gently tipping her chin up. “Have you been sleeping in my shirts?”
“Sometimes.” The single word is raspy as she licks her bottom lip, reminding me how much I enjoyed our unexpected make out session earlier. I was dead asleep when suddenly she was straddled in my lap, her mouth hungrily pressed to mine. I was convinced it was a dream. Until she panicked and ran scared.
“Just how many times have you stolen my shirts?” I brush my fingers over her collarbone, following the trail along the oversized neck of my shirt. “And are you wearing anything under it?”
Avery’s eyes double. Shit . I’ve crossed a line. I only meant to tease her. To give her something to dream about when she scurried back to her bedroom. But dammit, I wasn’t prepared for how much seeing her in my shirt would fucking unravel all common sense in my brain.
I push off the wall, turning away before I do something reckless. I need to put some space between us before?—
“You didn’t let me answer.”
“Avery,” I say, her name a plea. As much as I want her—as much as I’ve always wanted her—this is a bad idea.
“I’m not wearing anything under your shirt, Micah.”
Dammit, that admission is almost more than I can take. Slowly, I turn back, balling my fists at my sides so my hands behave. Avery has never toyed with me before. Any light flirting over the years has been fleeting. There’s never been any question about the borders around that damn friend zone.
Until now.
I hook the hem of my shirt with a single finger. I yank at the fabric but don’t lift it. Two can play at this game. “I don’t believe you.”
“See for yourself.” Her tone is confident, seductive, daring.
Our gazes lock for several heated seconds before I slowly lower to my knees, giving Avery every chance to stop what’s about to happen. But the liquid heat in those eyes tells me she wants this. Maybe, at long last, she’s tired of fighting what’s between us.
But if I’m wrong, I’ll damn sure leave my imprint on her before I’m up off my knees.
With a feather light touch, I trace my fingertips from her ankles, to her knees, to the hem of my shirt. My fucking shirt. I’ve always found Avery irresistibly attractive, but the level of sexiness she exudes in my shirt is mind blowing.
I lift the shirt, her sweet scent calling to me.
“No panties?” I practically growl.
“Told you.”
She doesn’t move, leaving her back pressed against the wall as she watches me. I tilt my gaze, catching the micro changes in her expression when I slide my hands up the backs of her calves. She lifts her chin a tick, as if she’s in control, but I note the shaky rise and fall of her breasts on a heated pant and smile. “It’s dangerous you know.”
“What is?”
“Leaving this pussy unguarded around me.”
I run my fingers up her inner thighs, delighted when she widens her stance in invitation. I’ve fantasized about the taste of her for years .
“I feel like being a little dangerous right now,” she says, rolling her hips toward me. Bringing that delicious pussy closer to my eager mouth. She slides one hand into my hair, fingertips soft against my scalp, as if she needs the tactile contact to reassure her that this is real.
I swallow, knowing the exhale is hot against her thigh. Knowing that I want her hands all over me, every night for the rest of my life. But this isn’t about me. Tonight is my promise. To her.
Tomorrow, she might hate me. Again. But she sure as hell won’t be able to forget how I bring her to her fucking knees.
I press my palms into her thighs, using my thumbs to spread her pussy lips and flick her sensitive bud with my tongue.
She gasps at the contact.
“You want me to stop?”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” she hisses.
“That’s what I thought.” I tease her folds with my tongue, the pressure gentle as I explore every valley of her. She watches in rapt interest as I savor her, in no hurry to rush the years long fantasy come to life. With each thorough exploration, I add a little more of my tongue and swirl it slowly around her clit.
“Micah,” she gasps, my name barely a whisper leaving her lips.
“Enjoying yourself, sweetheart?” I purposely say the words against her sensitive skin, allowing the vibration to tease her further, enjoying the whimper of pleasure that escapes her throat.
“You’re so good at this.”
Only because I’ve imagined eating her out for a long fucking time. But I don’t say the words aloud. Words that might frighten her away, like a wild animal just learning to trust. Instead, I focus on increasing the intensity. My tongue moves quicker. My lips fuse to her core. I refuse to come up for air until she comes apart on my face.
Her hand fists in my hair as her hips rock violently against my eager mouth.
I slide my hands to her ass and yank her tighter to me, showing no mercy as I devour her sweet pussy.
When her legs wobble, I flex my biceps to keep her upright as I feast, determined to drink every last drop of her delicious orgasm.
When she finally collapses in a heap, I sweep her into my arms and carry her to her bedroom. She snakes a hand around my neck, pulling my mouth to hers. The passionate kiss is nearly enough to blind me to reason. I want nothing more than to slide my cock into that delicious pussy.
“You’re leaving?” she asks, surprise in her gaze as I set her down and stand back.
“Yes.”
“But why?”
“Because I know you, Avery Flanders.”
“What does that mean?” There’s a flash of hurt in her sharp tone.
“Tomorrow you’ll try to pretend this never happened.” I stop in the doorway. “When I come inside you, it’ll be because you’re done denying what this is between us. What it’s always been.” With those final words, I close the door behind me before I lose my nerve and pray to the fucking gods that I won’t regret this.