PEYTON
Last night feels like a dream.A really fucking good dream. One of those dreams you never want to wake from, but inevitably do. The ones you can’t revisit, no matter how quickly you fall back asleep.
Being known as a town whore isn’t always the best title for anyone—man or woman. But the experience Micah has gained from said relations… let’s just say no one will hear me complain. Not once.
The man weaves witchcraft with his tongue. Spins gold with the tip. Just the tip. And could make my shower singing voice Grammy-worthy in just one night. That is pure talent.
My experience with men—as far as number of partners—is minuscule in comparison to Micah. The few relationships I had were long term, the shortest a year and a half. Each man had his own talents or mannerisms I loved—a specific maneuver, the way he touched my cheek, how he looked at me like no one was in the room. Each of them sweet in their own way. Each of them someone I cared for deeply at the time.
But none of them shared similarities with Micah. Which strikes me as odd. Looking back at my past relationships, all the men shared identical physical features and comparable ways of thinking. All of them were the complete opposite of Micah. Part of me wonders if it was my brain’s way of sheltering me from the past. Steering me away from men like the one I crushed on, but crushed me in a different way.
Compared to the men of my past, Micah Reed is wild. Untamed. Unrestrained. With the words that leave his lips and the tricks he performs with his tongue.
But Micah has also displayed a tender side; a side he keeps hidden from those not in his inner circle. This is the side of Micah that holds my gaze as if nothing exists but me and him and the moment shared between us. This side remembers my food preferences and what shows I watch and the spot to kiss that makes me melt. The playful side that spurs me on for fun, makes me laugh and puts a smile on my face.
Micah Reed is a true anomaly. A mysterious man with countless layers to unfold. A man who puts on a decent front, but harbors much more within himself. With what happened with his ex, I get not allowing your heart to be vulnerable. But at some point, if he wants more out of life, he will need to expose himself emotionally more than ever. Especially if he wants our relationship to evolve.
“Hellcat!”
I snap my head up from the glass I cleaned for the last however many minutes. Surprised I haven’t scrubbed the bar logo off in the process. Glancing down the bar, I spy Micah looking my way with a cocked brow.
Great.I will never hear the end of this.
After I set the glass down, I spin to face him. “Yes?” I draw out the one-worded question.
“Been calling you the last five minutes. Need a break?”
Five minutes? No fucking way have I been washing the same glass, spaced out, for five minutes. I narrow my eyes. He is messing with me, right?
Rather than holler down the bar, especially with every set of female eyes in the club on us, I walk the short distance and aim for a quieter conversation. Well, as quiet as a conversation can be with karaoke playing in the background.
“One,” I say when I reach him. “You have not been calling my name that long.” He opens his mouth to interrupt, but I hold up a hand. He snaps his mouth shut and flashes me a lopsided smile. “Two, what makes you think I need a break? We’ve only been open an hour.”
The other corner of his mouth curves up and presents me with the most wicked grin to don his lips. A grin that trickles a thrill in my veins and dampens my panties. A mischievous smile that hints at secrets only we share and heats my skin from crown to root.
He shrugs, then tilts his head. “You look a little tired. Like you were up past your bedtime.”
Smart-ass.
I step closer. His starry eyes playful as his tongue darts out to lick his lips. Taking another step in his direction, I inhale his cologne and refuse to exhale until necessary. The scent dances in my nasal cavities, swirls in my lungs, then takes up residence in my memory. It has me begging for more of him. Another taste of his lips, his tongue. But I won’t tell him that. Not here. Not yet.
“I’m a big girl, starlight.” I toss a smirk his way. “And I go to bed when I’m ready.” My tongue sweeps over my lips and I bite and hold the lower for one, two, three breaths before releasing. Micah shifts his weight from right to left as I lean in, my lips less than an inch from his ear. “Maybe you should’ve offered me yours.”
Micah sucks in a sharp breath, then releases it. Heat paints my skin as his breathing spikes. I startle when fingers tug at the hem of my shirt. Claw at my hip bone. Neither of us takes a step back. The bar may be packed with women wanting fruity cocktails and countless people hoping to make it big on stage, but they all vanish.
Right now, all I hear, all I see, all I feel is Micah.
Memories of last night play on a repetitive loop. The gentle and hungry ways his fingers caressed my skin. How he worshiped me with his lips. And how he took my body to places I never knew existed.
Yes, I have orgasmed with other partners—and myself. But what happened last night… that was not just oral and orgasms. Something else simmered beneath the surface. As if a dormant piece of me woke up and opened her eyes for the first time.
And I can’t get enough.
“Best be careful what you ask for, hellcat.” He kisses beneath my ear and a shiver rolls up my spine. “I make good on my promises. Do you?”
Before I open my mouth to respond, a female voice grabs both our attention. “Well, don’t you two look nonproductive at work.”
We simultaneously inch back, but stay within reach. A twin pair of starry eyes stare at us. When I broaden my view, six other sets of eyes leer at us. Their expressions range from way to go to that’s interesting. No matter how they regard me or us, I don’t want to be seen like the other women Micah has been with. Easy and replaceable.
Thankfully, none of them look at me in this manner. Perhaps because they never met any of the women Micah bedded. Works in my favor.
“What’s up, Shell?”
She rolls her eyes and points to the makeshift stage as if the answer is obvious. “Karaoke, big brother. It may be out of our way, but we’re here for it. Plus, we get to see you.”
Although I have hung out with everyone opposite us, I remain quiet. Not that I feel uncomfortable in their presence or sparking conversation. My personal relationship with each of them is still new. With new people, I tend to be more reserved and less of an open book. Talkative, but not open.
Cora and Autumn smile, the corners of their eyes lifting with the gesture. Cora nudges Shelly. “Let’s grab a table.” Then Cora returns her attention to me. “You guys able to sit with us for a song or two? Or does it get super busy?”
I open my mouth to tell her we have other stuff to do, but Micah beats me to the punch.
“Sure.” He glances my way. “Give us a few to wrap up paperwork in the office.”
Shelly nods at her brother, but I see the sure you have paperwork to do glint in her eye. Because in what universe does it take two of us to plug numbers into spreadsheets for an average-sized nightclub/bar? Simple answer—it doesn’t.
Do I correct him? Nope. Because after our conversation moments ago, I am dying to have his lips on mine again. Dying to taste and tangle tongues with him.
“Sure thing, big brother.”
The group wanders to two vacant tall tops and scoots them closer together. Jake greets them and takes their drink order. Before Jake brings over the order, Micah starts popping off beer lids and mixing drinks. He knows his friends—family—well.
“Why don’t you head back to the office,” he suggests. “I’ll be there in a few.”