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He tiled his head back slightly, waiting for me to decide what to do.
I found myself obeying my body’s yearning without thought, leaning in to brush my dry lips over his.
Micah didn’t move, simply sat still and allowed me to initiate, to touch, without interference. But, I could feel the tension in him radiating like the summer sun’s rays heating me through.
“Micah,” I whispered, “give me your tongue.
With a soft groan, he licked gently over my lower lip.
I whimpered and opened, my hands finding his scruffy cheeks. The prickle of his stubble kept me focused on who kissed me. The only man to own my mouth, the only lover to make my body sing.
Memories of his soothing hands that brought blinding pleasure swelled inside my mind with every swipe of his tongue against mine, obliterating all other thoughts. His low moan made shivers slide over my skin. His panted exhales filled my lungs, reminding me of everything I’d found in his arms.
“Touch me,” I murmured, pulling back just enough to see his passion-hazed eyes.
Tentative fingers feathered over my hips.
“I’m green,” I whispered.
Micah’s touch solidified, palms pressing against my skin.
Caught up in him, the truth of who he was to me—that I could be with him without emotional pain—dictated my moves.
I slid onto his lap, my core aching. “You make me forget.”
He studied me a moment, his body completely still except for the rise and fall of his chest. “I’m not going to be your escape. You can’t hide from what happened, Jasmine.”
Indignation flared, and I frowned, stiffening. Didn’t he notice steps I’d just taken? The choice I had remembered in my head that made a physical connection between us possible?
A slow smirk curved his lips, pissing me off even more.
“I break through after three days of living in bullshit emotions, and you’re going to deny me?” Huffing, I started to pull away, but Micah’s hold on my hips tightened. “Let me go,” I hissed, ready to smack him across his gorgeous smiling face.
“Do you trust me?”
I blinked, my frown deepening. “You know I do.”
“Who’s touching you right now?’ His hands slid around my backside, his hold firm yet gentle.
“You are,” I answered, my pissiness lessening slightly at his soothing tone.
“Say my name.”
What was he up to?
“Micah,” I answered with more than a hint of sass.
“Whoam I?”
“My boss. Friend. Lover.”
He lifted an eyebrow as though waiting for one title I may have forgotten.
I heaved a heavy exhale, the fight leaving me as I realized what he hoped to hear. “Sir,” I whispered my submission.
His heating gaze slid over my face, settling on my lips. “What’s your safeword, little lamb?”
My pulse heightened, and I licked my lower lip at the determination in his steady gaze. “Red,” I whispered.
