Bound Beneath His Pain (Dirty Little Secrets 1)

One brow arches. “You can’t imagine ever living at a hotel?”

“No, sorry, I can’t,” I reply, hoping I don’t offend him. “A house isn’t just a house for me; it’s a home, it’s a feeling. And you can’t buy that feeling.”

He’s watching me intently again, like he’s trying to get a read on me. There’s something very sexy in the way he takes his time, almost like he really pays attention, never rushing through anything.

Finally, he asks, “Call me curious, but why did you look ready to smash something when you first walked out here?”

“Oh, I showed Mrs. Lowe a few houses today.” I glance down at the glass in my hand, seeing I’ve made a good dent in my drink before looking at him again. “Sadly, they weren’t her cup of tea.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. You’re amazing at what you do, and I imagine Jenny has no idea what she wants.”

Just like that, another check mark’s gone at Micah’s support of me.

“Besides,” he adds, “if she takes too long, Peter will make the decision for her. He won’t want to drag this out.”

I’m staring into his eyes while I sip my scotch, and he’s still watching me closely. He’s kinda likable, I admit.

My belly warms with a slow-building heat, but I don’t know if that’s from him or from the scotch. I begin wondering how his sculpted lips would feel on mine. How those strong hands would feel dragging across my sensitive flesh. How that finger that’s gliding over the rim of his glass would feel circling my puckered nipple. And how those smoky eyes would look when they smolder.

I gulp back the scotch, cringing at the aftertaste, as his low and smooth chuckle slides over me in a delicious promise.

“Tell me, Allie: why did you get into real estate?” he asks, avoiding the topic we both know we’re thinking about: Us. In Bed. And very naked.

I look up at him through my lashes, feeling my cheeks flushing hot, and hoping to hell the patio’s lighting isn’t illuminating my skin. “I like finding people homes and giving them somewhere to make memories.”

He tilts his head, eyes curious. “You sell homes because you hope it gives people happy memories?”

I get the feeling I’ve surprised him. “It’s nice, you know, being a part of that process and knowing that you’re helping someone find the place where they’ll create their story, whatever that might be.”

“Hmm…” is all he says.

I’m a little lost in the way he’s examining me now. To be the center of this man’s focus is a bit mind-boggling, but to have him look at me like I’m a lost treasure he’s finally found is out of this world. I sense my breaths growing shallower and the rise of my chest becoming more evident.

He’s observing me, I see it.

I see the way his eyes are taking note of all my reactions to him. Every breath. Every tremble of my hands. Every nibble on my lip. He lowers his feet to the grassy ground, leaning forward a little, resting his arms on his knees. “I didn’t receive the flowers back from you today, so I take it you found them acceptable.”

“They were beautiful, thank you.” I can’t look away from him. The entire world somehow disappears around me. It’s me, him, and this insane energy flowing between us. Every hair on my body stands straight up and my legs are unconsciously squeezing together against the building warmth between my thighs.

The silence is stretching out between us, and it is saying so much without saying anything at all. I should move, but I don’t. I should say something, but I can’t. I should do a lot of things, but all I’m doing is breathlessly staring at him.

He’s moving closer to me now and I can smell the woodsy hints of his cologne. My chest is rising and falling fast with my deep breaths. I’m being pulled forward into him like we’re magnets. I can’t ignore this. I can’t ignore him.

His lips are right near mine, so very close, and with the scent of scotch on his breath, my mind snaps firmly into place. I recoil, shooting straight to my feet. “I gotta go.” I yank his blazer off, thrusting it at him. “Thanks for the drink.”

He drapes an arm across the back of the love seat, grinning at me. “Not cold anymore?”

Damn, he’s so cool and collected, it’s irritating, because I’m totally out of control, and tongue-tied. I turn away, refusing to look at him again, because that’s when I get into trouble.

I hurry through the door, entering the stairwell, getting far, far away from him, reminding myself to never forget the two lessons I learned tonight.

Never be alone with Micah.

And definitely don’t ever drink scotch with him.

Chapter 5

Allie