From the kitchen, Mikey laughs at something Dean says. The sound carries down the hall. It’s warm and easy. It’s not fueled by tequila or the chaos of touring. And I realize I want it to be mine. If I’m brave enough to claim it.
After lunch, and then watching Mikey and Dean argue over a song they were trying to work out, we drive back to Mikey’s apartment. The ride is easy. Comfortable. Dangerously comfortable. When we step inside, he tosses his keys on the counter and rolls his shoulders.
“I’m gonna grab a shower.” He wipes a hand down his shirt. “I smell like garlic and Dean’s ego.”
I snort. “That’s a strong scent.”
He grins at me over his shoulder before disappearing down the hall. I change into leggings and an oversized tee, curl up on the couch, and grab the book I tossed in my bag earlier this week. It’s a romance novel by Michelle Windsor. Filled with scenes I wouldn’t mind acting out with Mikey, but not quite brave enough to try.
I barely make it three pages in before the bathroom door opens. Steam rolls down the hallway first. Then Mikey appears. Dark sweatpants. Gray t-shirt. Towel in his hand. Damp hair pushed back carelessly like he doesn’t know it makes him look devastating. He smells clean and like fresh soap and something undeniably him.
He catches me staring. “What?” he stops in place, dragging the towel through his hair.
“Nothing.”I mean, really?Is he doing this on purpose, or is he that clueless about how good looking he is.
He drops the towel on the chair and walks toward the couch. Every step is unfair. He plops down a foot away from me like he hasn’t just turned the temperature in the room up ten degrees, reaches for my legs, and tugs my feet into his lap. Like it’s second nature to him; possessive without pressure. “Whatcha reading?”
His thumb begins to absently trace circles over my ankle. My pulse skips. I consider telling him. Instead, I tilt the book slightly so he can’t see the cover. “Want me to read some?”
His eyebrow lifts. “Sure?”
I clear my throat and start reading.
“I gather her face in my hands and cover her mouth with mine. Her lips open immediately, her tongue snaking out to find mine. I feel her hands move to the front of my chest as her fingers begin to work the buttons on my shirt. I release her face and reach down to pull the bottom half of my shirt out of my pants and then break away to pull it over my head. “Your turn. Take the dress off.””
Mikey’s thumb stills on my ankle. He stares over at me. He stays silent. I keep reading.
“I watch as she slides the zipper down, the dress sliding off her body in one swish.Before I can truly take her in, she takes three bold steps toward me, places her hands flat against my chest, and pushes me until the back of my legs hit the couch. She shoves me hard enough so that I sit, and before I can even blink, she’s straddling my lap.”
His grip tightens on my leg. Not enough to hurt. Enough that I feel it. His thumb drags slower now, higher, just an inch, then stops like he caught himself. His jaw ticks, and suddenly this doesn’t feel like a joke anymore. My pulse jumps up a notch as I keep reading anyway.
“Her arms snake around my neck, her fingers threading through my hair, her forehead bumping against mine. Hot air flutters out between her lips right before she presses them to mine.”
“You sure this is a romance and not porn?” He chuffs, shifting his body under my feet.
“It’s a romance, but a spicy one.”
That makes him pause. “There’s different kinds of romance?”
“Mmhmm.”
He leans back slightly, reassessing. “And you’re just going to keep reading that to me?”
I nod and turn the page in response.
“I can taste the tequila on her and delve deeper as her arms tighten around me and her fingers clench and pull my short hair. My cock throbs as her hardened nipples brush against my own, and I move my hand down to push her core down as I rock into it. Her mouth parts as it falls open in a moan, her eyes shooting up to meet mine. She shifts her ass back, my browsfurrowing in question, until she leans forward and begins a slow assault with her lips down my neck. She continues to move lower, sliding her body off my legs as she does, bracing her hands on my chest as her tongue grazes down my pec and swirls around one of my nipples.”
His breathing changes. Subtle, but I hear it. I finally glance over. He’s still watching me. Not teasing. Not smirking. He’s laser focused. “You trying to tell me something, Q?” His voice like gravel. Rougher. Not amused. Not safe.
My heart slams against my ribs. I shrug like I’m braver than I am. “Just reading.”
His grip tightens ever so slightly around my calves. “You picked that scene on purpose.”
“Maybe.” I tug the corner of my bottom lip between my teeth as I stare back at him.
He studies me for a long moment. Then slow and deliberate, he slides one hand from my ankle to my calf, then higher. Not far. But enough. Enough that my breath catches. Enough that he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“You know what I like about that scene?” His gaze rakes over me.
