Page 58 of Pretty Heartache

“Do you want me?” I ask.

He doesn’t deny it. Instead, his breathing grows heavier, and his eyes harden.

“Clearly, me dancing with another man made you feel something. I want you to admit it.”

His nostrils flare.

At a red light, he hits the brake hard; his hand still clutched around the wheel, the other resting on the shifter. Every few seconds, he flexes his fingers.

Thirty seconds of silence lingers before the light turns green. Micah hasn’t answered my question when he slams on the gas, and the engine roars before taking off. He weaves in and out of cars, then takes an unexpected sharp turn. Whipping the car into an underground parking garage, he blasts through the open gate and swings into the first vacant spot he finds. The tires screech and the engine vibrates as he stops.

My heart pounds in my chest, and my breathing is shallow. I’ve never seen Micah this way, and the sight is both exciting and terrifying.

“What do you want me to do, Adeline?” he asks, his voice deep and heavy. His shoulders and chest rise and fall with every breath, like each one is a struggle. “I’mtrying. I’m trying to warn you that I’m not good for you, but I can’t help feeling like this?—”

“What do you feel?” I ask him, knowing he’s so close to removing the mask he’s expertly placed over his face.

“I don’t know…” He raises his voice. “All I do know is that every time I watch you with someone else, it feels like you’ve torn this hole in my chest, and every time you resist me, or someone looks at you like a piece of fucking meat, I want to bend you over and fuck you until you scream my name and tell me you’re mine.” He slams his hand against the steering wheel, staring through the front windshield. His jaw clicks with frustration, but there’s a sense of relief when his shoulders fall slightly.

My lungs starve for oxygen when my entire body stills. Micah’s confession suspends in the air, heavy and thick, pulling me down with it.

I open my mouth, but snap it shut.

“But I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t. I told Archer I would watch over you and protect you!” he seethes, yelling. “So, what do you expect me to do, Addy?”

“What do you want me to do?” he asks again, his voice lowered.

I steel my chest and force the words to come out. “Instead of watching me, do something. Instead of yelling at me, do something. Instead of pretending like there isn’t something between us,do something.”

“Like what?”

“Touch me,” I breathe, the words spilling out of me like a breaking dam. “Every time I’m around you, I’m so fucking wet. I touch myself, imagining you between my thighs. When you touched me the other day and stopped, I ached for you. My clit pulsated for hours afterward, wishing you’d given it relief. I want you to touch me, Micah. I want you to touch me like you did before, only this time, I don’t want you to stop.”

He snaps his head to the right, pinning me with his stormy blue eyes, and my breath catches in the back of my throat.

“Fuck it.” A quick breath falls from his mouth before his hands are on me. I barely register what’s happening before he’s unclipping my seat belt, and Micah’s hands land on my hips, tugging me in his direction. He pulls me hungrily, moving me as if there’s nothing between us.

I climb over the shifter and straddle him in the driver’s seat. My back hits the steering wheel, and my ass lands on the horn, but he doesn’t let it stop him.

“I want you.” He growls, running both his hands over my hips. My dress is already slipped up to my waist. It doesn’t take much considering how short it is.

His hands are frantic as they explore my body. I plant both of mine on his shoulders, my pussy wet for him already, and I grind against his swollen cock.

“Give me this pretty fucking mouth.” He hisses. He grasps my chin, pulling me down to him. My lips meet his and I moan, savoring the taste.

I rock my hips against his hardened length, hungry for more as I slip my hand around the back of his neck, combing his hair with my fingernails. His lips part just enough for me to gasp for air as I cry out. The ache inside me swells.

I need Micah.

I need to feel him inside me. My heart is racing at a speed I’m not certain I’ll survive. It isn’t until he growls hungrily against my mouth before moving his lips down the length of his neck do I realize I’m not only hungry for Micah—I’m starving for his vulnerable soul. Every time he shows me this possessive or protective side of him, I want him more.

He pulls at me, and although I push a little back, my heart constantly boomerangs back to his.

“Fuck, yes,” I whimper, grinding my hips a little harder.

Micah’s mouth finds the swell of my breasts. It isn’t difficult, considering there’s barely any fabric covering them. He nudges his face against the fabric, hoping to push it aside but is unsuccessful.

“Clothing tape,” I mutter on a heavy breath, looking down at him. “Couldn’t risk showing too much skin.”

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