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“We can do this all night, or you can just deal with the fact that you’re staying here,” he says.
I sit straight on the bed and raise my chin. “I need to talk with her. She doesn’t know about my past, or at least, she didn’t.” My shoulders sag as I try to imagine what she must be feeling. “It’s fucked up that she had to find out through Genna,” I plead softly.
“She’ll understand and forgive you for not telling her.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Like you did?”
He ignores my comment and walks around the room. “Look. Why don’t you take a shower and rinse off the day? I just want you in here for one night, just to lie with me, and then you can go back to the guest room with Celeste.”
I grumble in submission and walk to the en suite.
“Can you at least get me some clothes to sleep in?” I ask.
He nods. “Just go take a shower. I’ve got everything else.”
The way he says it makes me question what he’s got up his sleeve. I’d be lying if I said that I haven’t replayed the memory of that night or that I’ve forgotten the feel of riding his face. But I also know that it’s a path I should not be going down again. I shake my head and close the bathroom door.
He’s right about one thing, though. A hot shower is the answer to a shitty evening.
25
Istep out of the shower, dripping wet, and search for a towel in the bathroom, but there isn’t one to be found. I grumble my annoyance with nonsensical words and head into Micah’s dimly lit bedroom, leaving pools of water in my wake.
Focusing on finding a towel in the low light, I don’t notice Micah standing behind me.
“Looking for something.”
I jump as he speaks, turning around quickly to defend myself.
“Asshole,” I grind out when I realize it’s him.
He gives me a cheeky smile and reveals a small, skinny towel in his hands.
I cover my lady parts with one hand and place the other on my hip. “What the hell am I supposed to do with that?” I snipe.
“Do you trust me?” His eyes brighten to a deep Caribbean blue.
Shaking my head, I reply, “Not in the slightest.”
“Liar.”
His smile broadens, revealing his dimples, and I roll my eyes.
“Can I get a towel?”
“I like you wet,” he replies. “I wanna try something. Stick both of your wrists out.”
“If I do, will I get a towel?”
“Maybe.”
I sigh. I hate that it’s nearly impossible to be mad at him and even more so that I’m curious to know what he wants to try.
Have some fun, Evie.
After a few seconds of a deeply concerning mental debate, I raise both my wrists in offering. He pulls the material, and it looks more like wide rope instead of anything resembling a towel. Taking my wrists, he starts wrapping them together.
“Micah…” I whisper, stepping back.
