Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 95906 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95906 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
The tiny show of defiance had my body raging, but not with fury.
In that instant, I knew the need to claim him, to own him was beyond my control. “Go,” I growled in warning. “Fucking go, Micah!”
I wanted to respond to the fear in his eyes. I wanted it to calm me down, but it didn’t. It just made me angrier. The knowledge that he still believed I would physically hurt him…
“Go,” I repeated, though the word came out as more of a plea than anything else.
“No,” Micah whispered. “We need to talk. I need to explain—”
“I don’t want to fucking talk,” I snapped. I dropped my head so that my lips were mere inches from his. “I don’t want to fucking talk,” I repeated more softly. “Don’t make me break my promise, Micah.”
“What promise?” Micah asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He finally seemed to realize the true danger he was in because his eyes kept shifting to my mouth. It was all I could do not to claim him then and there. But I’d made him a promise and I wasn’t a guy who went back on his word.
No matter what it cost me.
I drew in a shaky breath, but it did nothing to ease the lust coursing through me. My dick felt like a spike in my pants. Thank fuck I’d had the sense to change into my jeans after my morning workout. If Micah had any clue how turned on I was, he’d think I was just another sick fuck like the men who’d hurt him.
The mere memory of the violence Micah had experienced at the hands of men was enough to cool my ardor. I managed to put a couple more inches of space between us.
“What promise, Con?”
I shook my head because it didn’t matter.
“What promise?” Micah repeated, but this time he put his hand on my chest, right over my heart. He had to feel it pounding like a racehorse.
“No one lays a hand on you ever again, not even me,” I murmured.
A heavy silence fell between us. My body was still wound tight with need, but my mind was finally starting to clear. Micah had done that, not my weight bag. His presence, his touch, they’d made me me again. How was that even fucking possible?
I forced myself to drop my arms and straighten but I hadn’t moved more than another inch or two when Micah dropped his hand from my chest and wrapped it around one of my wrists. His grip was firm but gentle and electricity immediately fired up my arm and then straight to my cock.
“What if I want you to?” he asked.
A roaring sound began in my ears as I tried to make sense of his words. “Micah—”
He tugged me forward just a little.
“Break your promise, Con.”
Chapter Twelve
Micah
He didn’t ask me if I was sure, and he didn’t ease me into the kiss that followed.
I was glad for that on both counts because when Con’s mouth crashed down on mine, I was ready.
So very ready.
Problem was, I had no clue what the hell I was doing. So I didn’t do anything but stand there and take in all the sensations that began to bombard me as Con’s firm lips brushed mine over and over again. My entire body, which had already been on high alert to begin with, went into overdrive. Heat consumed my blood and my heart felt like it was going to pound right out of my chest. My skin burned and tingled whenever it came into contact with Con’s, which was a lot since he was wearing a sleeveless workout shirt. As his arms encircled me so he could draw me closer to him, I rested my own hands on his biceps. They were slick with sweat and every muscle bulged any time Con shifted even the tiniest bit.
In short, I was overwhelmed. Completely and fully. I wanted to touch him everywhere. I wanted to rub my groin against his so the ache in my pants would go away. But more than anything I wanted to kiss him back.
I just had no idea how and I was too afraid of screwing it up to even try. I figured I could fake my way through it, but mere seconds into the kiss, Con was pulling back just a little. A rough breath left his lips. He pressed his forehead against mine and whispered, “Sorry.”
I wanted to ask him what he was sorry for, but then his mouth was back on mine. Instead of firm pressure, this kiss was soft and sweet and all too short. It was followed by another one. Then another.
All the heat inside me began to change into something else with every gentle kiss Con pressed to my lips. It was like something was building within me… something I couldn’t identify. Something… more.