Page 51 of Love Song, Take Two

I want you all the time.

Dating Fletcher was so much more than she thought it would be. They didn’t do anything extravagant, but every minute they spent together was great. After that night in his kitchen, she invited herself back and they cooked together again. Her whole adult life, Micah had cleaned the kitchen as she cooked. She didn’t like having to clean up before eating and she always got so lazy after her meals, so cleaning while cooking was her safest bet. Which was why watching Fletcher in the kitchen was the best feeling. He cleaned as he cooked and by the time dinner was served, his kitchen looked like nothing had happened in there.

“Next time you cook in my kitchen, you should teach Emery how to clean up after herself,” she told him, bringing things from the dining table to the kitchen.

He laughed, rinsing and loading everything into the dishwasher. Micah lifted herself onto the counter and grinned as she watched him, reminding herself that because the man wrote a song about her, cleaned up after cooking and looked good in glasses didn’t mean that she could fall in love with him again.

Silly girl, you’re already in love with him.

“I don’t mean to be pushy, but speaking of Emery,” Fletcher said, wiping his hands before standing in front of her. She spread her legs slightly and arched an eyebrow. “When do you think we can tell her about us?”

“Soon.”

“Because while this is fun, I want to be able to hold you and touch you. All the time.”

“Is that all?” she asked, dragging her fingers through his hair before untying the topknot he’d pulled it up in. Emery might not say anything, but she always watched Micah closely when she brought up Fletcher. And it took everything in her to not react at the mention of the man. He’d always made her feel something so intense, she didn’t know how to not be that way around him.

He frowned, peering at her over the top of his glasses. “Should there be something else?”

“Nope.” With his hair untied, Micah pressed the pads of her fingers against his scalp and smiled when he moaned softly. “We’ll tell her soon, okay?”

“I get why you want to wait and I support it, but I’m a greedy bastard and I want you all the time.”

She laughed and with one hand, pushed Fletcher’s glasses up and then kissed the tip of his nose. She liked that he felt that way about her, because she felt it about him too. It wasn’t even about the sexual attraction—though pulling away from Fletcher would start to drive her insane—she liked that whenever they were near each other, hands gravitated to the other and her lips tingled to feel his. She even missed the scrape of his beard against her chin and neck when they weren’t around each other. She had gone sixteen years without having Fletcher kiss and touch her all the time, now it was all she wanted.

“What are your plans for the holidays?” she asked, voice soft as his fingers brushed against the side of her throat, his thumb stroking down the length of her neck and up along her jaw. She shuddered, her body going slightly limp at the way he touched her.

“Don’t have a whole lot planned, really. Why?”

Micah knew that Fletcher responded, but when his mouth joined the exploration, everything ceased to exist around her. He pressed soft kisses along her neck as the rest of his fingers settled on the other side of her jaw. She swayed into him and heard Fletcher laugh.

“Fletch…”

“Right here, sweetheart.”

She whimpered and wrapped her fingers around the wrist that held her face, her other hand flat on his chest. Licking her lips, she arched into him as his mouth traveled down to her clavicle and he playfully nipped at the skin.

And then suddenly, his lips were gone.

“No…” she whined softly, fingers curling into the front of his shirt. “Come back.”

He chuckled and Micah opened her eyes, his glasses were gone and his dark hair framed his gorgeous face perfectly. They stared at each other a long moment before he said, “Holiday plans.”

“What about them?”

“You asked me, Mick.”

She frowned and tried to think about their conversation, but all she could focus on was the way his beard felt against her skin. Licking her lips, she nodded. “Wanna spend it with us?”

“Yes.” The answer came out before she’d even finished her question. With a shrug, he added, “I’m busy most of the week, but I’d love to spend Christmas and beyond with you.”

“Aw,” she said, lips turning down in the perfect imitation of the sad emoji. “I’ll find someone else to fill my empty time.”

He gave her a flat look and she resisted the urge to smile, because while she could tell that he wasn’t angry or irritated, possessiveness flashed through his eyes.

“That was kinda hot,” she mumbled, her fingernails brushing through his beard.

“Which part—you fucking with me or…””

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