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I blinked back tears, wondering what had happened to take away any semblance of normalcy in his life. I wondered about the scar, and about the fact that the three of them kept themselves so apart from everyone else. And I wondered why they had decided to let me in. What had I ever done to deserve the hearts of three such incredible men?
But I didn’t give voice to any of my thoughts. Instead, I raised my free hand and slid it into his hair, grasping at the roots and tugging his face closer to mine.
“It’s all up to me,” I repeated. “Is that why you haven’t kissed me in two weeks?”
“We didn’t want to put any pressure on you,” he said, his eyes open and honest. “Especially after that night…Devan was afraid he’d pushed you too far, too fast. We wanted this to be your choice.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Did I do anything that night to make you think it was too much for me? Or that I didn’t want this?”
His lips parted on a breath and his eyes grew dark as they searched my face.
“No,” he whispered.
“Then kiss me,” I demanded, and claimed his lips with mine before he had a chance to react.
31
Micah’s hands were strong as they gripped me by the thighs, lifting me until I wrapped my legs around his waist. He stood, and I twined my arms around his neck to hold on, never breaking our kiss as he carried me across to his bedroom. He kicked the door shut with one foot, not bothering to turn on the lights as he laid me gently in the center of his bed, our lips still locked as he hovered over me.
Finally I had to come up for air and his lips moved to my jaw.
“I was so jealous,” he said between kisses, “when Devan got to taste you.”
My insides clenched at his words and I moaned, tipping my head back so he could reach my neck.
“You were so beautiful,” he went on, his breath warm against my skin. “Your sounds, the way you looked in my bed. I’ve never wanted anything so much.”
His weight came down on top of me, pressing me further into the mattress, and I could feel the truth of his words in the hard length of him against my thigh.
“What would you have done?” I gasped the words. “If it had just been us?”
He pulled back, sitting up between my legs to gaze at me. It was late, but his curtains were open and the moon was bright, illuminating his face with its silvery light. He was gorgeous—his features strong and even, black hair tousled from my hands and falling over his forehead.
His hand dropped to my waist, where his fingers slid back and forth along the sliver of skin showing between the hem of my sweater and the top of my jeans. My skin was so sensitive to his touch it nearly tickled, and I shifted restlessly on the bed.
His fingers fell to the button of my jeans.
“May I?” he asked.
“Please. Yes,” I said, and he chuckled at my eagerness, but I was beyond caring. If I didn’t feel his hands on my skin—somewhere, anywhere—I would combust.
His skillful fingers popped the button open and slowly dragged down the zipper, the sound loud in the quiet room and rivaled only by my labored breathing. His hands were huge as they came around my hips, and in one swift tug my pants were gone, peeled off along with my underwear. He tugged me up a little and made quick work of my shirt and bra as well. Then I laid back against his pillow once more and waited, the skin all along the front of my body tingling in anticipation of the touch that didn’t come.
He was just looking at me, and I followed his gaze. My skin was silvery and almost luminescent in the shadows, goosebumps rising wherever his eyes passed.
“This hardly seems fair,” I grumbled. “You’ve seen me naked twice now, and I haven’t even seen you without a shirt. Are you going to join me, or is your body another one of your strange secrets that you don’t share with anyone?”
He chuckled. “Sorry, I was being greedy. Help yourself. No secrets here.”
I did, reaching up to grasp the hem of his shirt and pull it up. He was tall, even kneeling on the bed between my legs, and he had to help me, pulling it over his head and discarding it on the floor with my clothes.
The sight of his chest nearly made my mouth water. The tantalizing glimpses of his tattoos I’d seen when he’d worn t-shirts were nothing when compared to the full view. The ink covered both arms and most of his chest, stark black and washes of vivid color against his smooth skin. The artwork was beautiful, the florals and geometric patterns some of the best I’d seen, and I felt like I would need a full day just examining him to take it all in.
But at the moment, I was preoccupied.
My hands found his chest, smoothing over the hard ridges of muscle, the sparse dusting of hair, down over the indentations of his abs, tracing over a black line of ink that curved tantalizingly below the waistband of his pants. He was breathing heavily, watching me as I touched him, and I glanced up to meet his gaze as I slid one hand down into his pants and wrapped it around the thick length of him. He was huge in my hand, the skin blazing hot and smooth as silk, and his cock twitched in my grip. His eyelids fluttered closed as he drew in a shuddering breath, and it was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.
I pumped my hand once, long and slow, then released him and tugged on his waistband. His eyes came open as he let me help him out of his pants, and then he was as naked as I was. He looked like some kind of Greek god kneeling there, the moonlight turning his skin to alabaster. Suddenly there was nothing in the world I wanted more than to taste him.
