I wish he could—
“W-wait, Micah, I want—” I start, breaking off when the tips of Micah's fingers rub over me as his mouth vanishes. Emboldened by the tingly touches, I push my ass back.
“Fuck me, please?” It's not the seductive proposal that I was aiming for, but I hope it'll work.
At the very least, Micah pauses. The warmth of his mouth disappears from my skin, making me shiver.
“Yes! I mean…are you sure?” Micah's answer makes me laugh until I feel his lips and then his teeth against my behind, sucking on the sensitive skin, dragging a low moan out of me.
“What about Colin?” Micah asks after giving me a short break to catch my breath.
“Fuck Colin,” I groan, then wince. “I mean notfuck-fuck Colin…ugh!” I bury my face in the mattress. Slowly, I count to five, then push myself back up.
Micah's eyes sparkle at me, amused, but also shuttered. He scoots back so I can sit up and turn toward him. My whole body feels jittery. I'm teetering on the brink of an orgasm, and feel like I’ve already come at the same time. It's infuriatingly distracting, especially with Micah so close but not closeenough.
“Sorry, sweetheart, but I don't want to be the asshole-jock who gets in the way of your…uh…bohemian romance.” Micah grimaces, and I snort, reaching for him, aching for more contact. I catch one of his hands, linking our fingers. Feeling his warm skin against mine is like a physical relief.
“Bohemian romance?”
“I don't know. Something like that.”
“What? You’ve been to my home!” I laugh.
“No, I mean…I can’t recite poems to you. I’ve never even written one.”
“Poems?” I blink. Micah has utterly lost me, even as he gestures like it’s clear.
“You know. Stuff that Colin does? Writes you a poem, then lays you out in a meadow of wildflowers before he—” Micah breaks off, his brows drawing together in a frown.
I can’t help but snort, squeezing his hand. At least his annoyance has taken all the nervousness away from me. “Wow, tell me more about those fantasies?” I snicker when his frown deepens. “Colin has never written a poem for me. Or read me one. As for the wildflower meadow”—I look around at the various plants that decorate my bookshelf, my windowsill, my entire room, then smile back at Micah, whose night-and-day eyes are brimming with uncertainty—“these will have to do?”
This isn’t the sophisticated romance he somehow imagined I had with Colin. It also isn’t the erotic tale between two fictional SEALs like inKeeping Noah. This is entirely us—exactly what I want.
Micah's eyes trail from my hand, where it rests in his, along my arm. Slowly, his hand moves to my wrist until he can curl his fingers around it. His other hand cups my face, thumb tracing over my cheek like he's personally responsible for spreading my blush evenly across my face.
“You look so beautiful, I don't want to hurt—”
“I want it to be you.” Micah's hand muffles my voice. It's tempting to turn my head more into the contact, press my lips into his open palm, and form the words against his skin, make him absorb them.
“For my first time, I want it to beus.”
Micah, July 19th
For my first time, I want it to be us.
Ten words that crash into me like waves shattering against a cliff line, flooding my mind and claiming my thoughts, diving deep until they echo back from every cell in my body.
“Lind, I,” I stammer, but he’s quick to shush me, leaning in just enough to press our lips together, wrapping his arms around my neck and pulling me down with him.
“I want it to beyou, Micah. Please. I can’t—all these years, it never felt right with anyone else. But it does feel right with you. I trust you, and if you don’t—I can’t picture anyone else, I—” He shakes his head, then peeks up at me, almost scared. “Unless you don’t want that?”
“No, that’s not—sweetheart, no. Of course I want to,” I reassure him quickly, blood rushing in my ears. His words are enough to have me tenting my boxers, my dick all butbeggingme to shut the fuck up and start devouring him again. But there are all these unsaid things between us—if we do that now, the one lesson we were never supposed to have, what does that mean for us once summer is over?
“Don’t overthink it, please. It doesn’t mean forever. Just that I want to have this one thing for myself, okay? One memory of Micah Mahoney before he became a big football star. Colin doesn’t have to know about it.”
Right.
Football.
