Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
His eyes brighten. “Are you sure?”
“Of course. I have a rare opportunity to see you in action.”
I love the flush that crawls across his cheeks. “It might be a long wait. Plenty of actors vying for this.”
“That’s fine. Where else do I have to be?”
He smiles before cutting the overhead light and casting the room in shadow, save for the dimmer lamp on the bedside table. As soon as we slide beneath his comforter, I can smell traces of him on the pillows and sheets. I revel in the scent as we maneuver our limbs to get comfortable. It’s a tight fit, but it feels like old times, when we used to live with my parents. Back then, we didn’t mind being this close, and I still carry that sentiment. Though I’m sure to regret it soon enough. My heart has been splintered and bandaged and fairly mended, but now he’s seeping into the cracks again, and the pain will be palpable. Familiar and profound. But I still won’t pass up one more opportunity to be with him.
As soon as our thighs brush, the hairs on my legs tingle from the contact.
After a few minutes, I realize Micah seems unable to settle, either from nerves or the close quarters.
“You okay?” I ask, willing my cock to behave. Sleep is more important than my libido the night before an audition.
“Yeah, sorry.” His fingers graze against my knee as if he can’t help but touch me too. “Maybe we should’ve slept apart. I don’t want to keep you awake.”
I shift to glance at him. “Or maybe…there’s a better way to help you relax.”
When our eyes meet, he bites back a groan, and without further discussion, we make quick work of discarding our briefs under the covers.
As I’m about to make a suggestion, Micah rolls on top, and I gasp at the feel of his bare torso and stiff shaft against mine. He reaches for my hands and cages them against the pillow above my head. “Is this what you had in mind?”
Hooking my legs around his thighs, I rock upward, which only serves to send a tremor along my nerve endings. “I’m certainly not complaining.”
Micah stares down at me, his eyes dark and needy, and when he bends to take my mouth in a deep, indulgent kiss, I realize this is exactly what I need too.
He releases my fingers to cradle my face, and I sigh against his warm lips. It’s a luxury to be with Micah like this, as if we have all the time in the world. I wish we did.
With my hands free, I can’t resist letting them wander over the knobs of his spine and down to his ass as he trembles against me.
Micah feathers kisses across my cheeks and jaw and against the hollow of my throat. When he rocks his hips, it sends a quake through my system as I adjust to his tender touch ramping up, and in an instant, I’m right there with him. Our kisses turn frantic, our hands greedy. In the quiet of the apartment, with the moonbeams casting banded silhouettes on the walls, this frantic need to join as one feels more like us—the us we used to be. The us we still are. Pressed so close as we use our bodies to bring each other pleasure.
Micah’s eyes are wide and searching, his lips parted, and I try to read the warring emotions in his expression. We watch each other, our lips close, breathing the same air as we rock together in a sensual dance. In that moment, we’re flayed open, our souls bare as we show each other who we are—how wounded and conflicted, apart and together.
My release is bearing down, but I don’t want this to end—this softness, this closeness to Micah. The kind of connection I missed every day for six years, the longing leaving a deep ache in my wounded heart.
“Mic,” I rasp, my eyes telling him everything.
“Me too,” he murmurs against my lips. “Just…a bit longer.”
We grind our hips together as we kiss, rub noses and cheeks, and exchange breaths. Before long, we’re both unmoored and heading for shipwreck, our rutting growing more erratic.
Micah presses his forehead to mine, moaning deep and long as he breaks apart in a surge of release against my stomach. I wrap my legs around him, holding on for dear life as I ride the same wave and crash beneath the surf, our come mixing together on my skin.
Micah flops onto the bed but stays close as we gradually come back to ourselves. We’re a heaving, sticky mess, but neither of us seems to mind. Sated and sleepy, I reach for my shirt to halfheartedly dab my stomach. Before I even finish the task, Micah is snoring softly, finally at ease.
20
MICAH
I wake up with John at my back, and though my arm is numb from being wedged beneath my torso, it feels amazing having him here. In my bed. In my city.