Page 5 of Micah

By the time I right myself, Micah struts into his room—butt-ass naked.

I gulp a swallow, overcome by a wave of powerful lust. I should step away from the crack in the door and hide. But I can’t stop staring at the water droplets glistening from his perfectly tanned, perfectly sculpted skin. I yearn to lick them away one by one. I’d start with that tattoo of a phoenix on his left shoulder and slowly lick my way down to that tight ass.

Micah stills, his back to me.

I hold my breath. Shit, did I make a sound? Maybe that silent whimper of want wasn’t only in my head.

“Hello?”

I slowly back away from the crack in the door and tiptoe to hide behind it.

The floor creaks. Damn the old house.

The second the door flies open, I toss the t-shirt I’ve pilfered over my head. As though it’ll clear me of any guilt of having stared at his naked backside.

“Avery?”

“Hey.” Because my head is covered, I give him a wave.Pathetic.

“What are you doing in my closet?” he asks, yanking the t-shirt off my face.

Eyes up!“One of your t-shirts was in my laundry,” I lie, feeling the wobbliness of each word as it escapes my throat. I notice, with some relief and a tiny shred of disappointment, that there’s now a towel wrapped around his waist. “I was putting it away. In your closet.”

“Oh, thanks,” he says, that easy, lopsided grin making my nipples pebble.

His mouth is much too close in this tight closet. I could reach my hand to the back of his neck and pull him down—Fuck, I need to get the hell out of here.

“Hey, you busy?”

“Not really.” The lie leaves my lips before I can pull it back. I have hours upon hours of work beckoning me. I am a lot of things right now…hot, bothered, aching… butnotbusyisn’t one of them. “What’s up?”

“I have a surprise for you.”

“Do I get to see the second floor?”

“No, it’s not done yet.” He drops a hand to my shoulder, and my skin ignites through the fabric of my cotton shirt. “C’mon. Go grab your camera bag.” He urges me forward, and I stumble over the same pile of laundry. I throw my palm out to avoid smackingmy face into the doorjamb. But Micah’s quicker. He yanks me into his arms, shielding my face.

My lips come into direct contact with one of those pesky water droplets on his pec, and it takes all my willpower to keep my tongue inside my mouth.

“Sorry about that,” he says, as though it’s his fault for me trespassing in his closet.

I shrug free of his embrace and hurry toward the door. Though the amount of work I have to do is piling high, I’m no longer tired. With liquid heat coursing through all my veins, I’m wide awake. And since I failed to pilfer a new t-shirt, I decide to trade my nap for a surprise I can’t seem to resist. “I’ll grab my camera bag.”

“Avery?”

“Hmm?”

“I need to get dressed,” he says, holding the towel at his hips. Drawing my attention to those washboard abs. “Can I have some privacy, please?”

“Right. Bye!” I practically sprint out the door and to my room.

I think this pesky little crush is going to be more trouble than I bargained.

A whole helluva lot more trouble.

4

MICAH

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