Page 8 of Micah

“I was planning to grab a pup cup, but maybe we should take him back to the house first. Let him sleep off his excitement.”

“Therewerea ton of squirrels taunting him,” I agree. Not to mention the half dozen kids who were eager to dote on him.

We drive back to the house like we have dozens of times in the past year of living here together. Only today, the air feels charged as Micah carries Henry inside. If the stubborn dog wasn’t wagging his tail, I’d be worried we overexerted him.

“Where are you taking him?” I ask Micah, following him through the living room and down the hall.

“My room.”

“Why?”

“Since we don’t have a dog bed, I thought I’d let him sleep on mine.”

Be still my fucking heart.

Any chance that I had this little crush under control vanishes in a single heartbeat. I don’t have a damn thing under control. Which is why I really should retreat to my own room and work while Henry naps. If my own bed wasn’t covered in all the work I still need to get done today, I’d insist he bring the dog to my room.

Instead, I follow the duo likeI’mthe lost puppy.

After all, we only have Henry for another couple of hours. I want to soak up every moment I can with him.

At least that’s my justification for climbing onto Micah’s bed. God, the comforter smells like him. The delightful woodsy spice scent that lingers on all his t-shirts, even after they’ve gone through the washing machine.

“Thank you,” I say, a yawn escaping as Henry curls against my front side.

“For what?” Micah asks, kicking off his shoes.

Exhaustion pulls me under as Micah positions himself on the opposite side of the bed, Henry between us. I let out a yawn as my eyes fall closed and lazily mumble an answer. “You know what.”

I drift off to sleep, my hand resting on a gently snoring Henry, a smile on my lips.

When Micah enters my dreams, I forget why I should fight the fantasy and don’t bother trying. He struts to me, wearing his firefighter coveralls, one shoulder strap open to reveal nothing underneath, as he carries Henry. That lopsided grin is laced with an extra dose of sexiness, and I bite down on my bottom lip.

Micah’s cobalt blue gaze is trained on me as he sets Henry down, the pup happily trotting around the yard—our yard?

“Your turn,” he says, closing the distance between us in quick, purposeful strides.

“My turn for what?” The words sound innocent leaving my lips, but I know they’re anything but.

With only a sinful smile in answer, Micah scoops me into his arms and carries me inside. I snake my hand around his neck and kiss him. And god does that kiss ignite every fiber of my being at first contact. Wetness pools between my legs as I deepen the sinfully delicious kiss. My shirt is pulled off before we even make it to the bedroom. I can’t seem to stop kissing him as I pullmyself tighter against him, opening my mouth to invite in his tongue.

Henry barks.

My eyes flutter open.

Where am?—

Shit! I’m straddling Micah. I look down in horror to discover my best guy friend grinning like a fool. I actuallykissedMicah. It wasn’t just a dream. I pat my chest, relieved I’m at least still wearing my shirt. “Where’s Henry?”

The pup sidles up to the side of the bed, tail wagging.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

“Avery,” Micah says, cupping the side of my face. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not!”

In my pitiful attempt to untangle myself from Micah, I accidentally rock my hips into him. I’m forced to swallow a moan. If I had any concerns about whether or not he enjoyed our little accidental make out session, the bulge in his jeans I rub up against puts that concern right to bed.

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