Page 39 of Rescued

And that’s all it takes. I lose it. My sides shake as laughter bursts out of me, uncontrollable and ridiculous. “God, Mika,” I manage between gasps. “Your face!”

“Yeah? Well, you were looking pretty freaked out yourself, buddy,” he retorts, his tone half annoyed, half amused. He crosses his arms, glaring at me, but the corners of his mouth twitch like he’s fighting back a smile.

“C’mon,” I say once I’ve caught my breath, reaching out to grab his hand. “Let me throw some jeans on, and I’ll make us some steaks. You can finish explaining this whole…fluid exchange thing.”

Mika eyes me warily, but when I tug him toward the kitchen, he follows. He doesn’t let go of my hand the whole way there, and that alone makes my chest feel warm.

I set the plates on the table, each piled high with thick, perfectly grilled steaks, crispy baked potatoes, and golden corn on the cob. The smell alone has my stomach growling in anticipation. I’ve always loved cooking a full meal on the grill—there’s something satisfying about being outside, enjoying the fresh air, instead of sweating over a hot stove.

Grabbing a couple of beers from the fridge, I hand one to Mika and take a seat across from him. He accepts it with a small nod, and we clink bottles before I take a long sip.

“So,” I say, setting the beer down. “You want to explain the exchange while we eat?”

Mika freezes mid-reach for his fork, his eyes darting to mine. A slight flush creeps up his neck as he shakes his head. “Maybe…after,” he mutters, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

I bite back a chuckle, regretting my earlier laughter at his expense.Poor guy’s still flustered.I watch him dig into his food, though, and it pushes all thoughts of teasing aside. Mika doesn’t just eat—he devours, savoring each bite like it’s a feast fit for a king. The sight is strangely mesmerizing, sensuous, and before I know it, my body reacts. Heat coils low in my belly as I feel myself harden, my cock pressing insistently against the fabric of my jeans.

Seriously? Just from watching him eat?I shift in my seat, trying to ease the pressure, and adjust myself discreetly under the table.

Mika pauses, fork in mid-air, and the slow smile that spreads across his face tells me I’ve been caught.

“What?” I ask, doing my best to sound casual. The effort’s wasted, judging by the glint in his whiskey-colored eyes.

“You got a problem there, Gabriel?” His voice is smooth as silk, low and teasing. It sends a shiver straight down my spine.

I can’t help smirking back. “I wouldn’t call it a problem. Nope, not at all. I’d call it…dessert.”

The heat in Mika’s gaze intensifies, and I know I’ve hit the mark. “Really,” he drawls, leaning back slightly in his chair. “Well, it’s a good thing I have a huge… sweet tooth.”

I groan, rolling my eyes. “Mika, that’s just…” I trail off, deciding to let the innuendo slide this time. After all, he’s not wrong about having something huge.

Mika chuckles, his attention returning to his plate. But just as I let my guard down, I feel his foot slide up the inside of my thigh, pressing lightly against my balls. My fork clatters to my plate as I jerk in surprise.

“Oh, you shit!” I yelp, glaring at him. His grin only widens, utterly unapologetic.

“I can always remove my foot,” he offers casually, though his tone is more a challenge than a promise.

“Don’t you dare!” I grab his ankle under the table, trapping his foot in place. “You remove this foot, and I’ll be one pissed-off man,” I warn, pressing against the pressure he’s already applying. The friction sends a bolt of heat through me, and I find myself eating faster, trying to focus on the food instead of the growing need pooling in my gut.

Mika doesn’t make it easy. His foot begins to move, sliding up and down my cock with deliberate strokes. I nearly choke on a bite of potato, coughing hard enough to make my eyes water. He pauses, waiting until I’ve recovered before continuing his torment. This time, his foot slides lower, down my cock, over my balls, and wedges beneath them. His toes wriggle playfully, and a low groan escapes me.

Before I can catch my breath, Mika withdraws his foot and stands abruptly, the force of his movement sending his chair clattering to the floor.

“You done?” he asks, his voice rough with barely restrained need. The intensity in his eyes sends a shiver down my spine.

I nod, not trusting my voice, and Mika grabs my arm, pulling me up so quickly my head spins.

Backing me against the kitchen cabinets, he leans in close, his breath warm against my neck. “Get your pants off, babe. Now.”

Fumbling, I reach for my belt, my hands shaking as I work to undo the buckle. I shove my jeans and boxers down in one motion, leaving them pooled around my ankles. Mika kneels in front of me, pulling the fabric away with a swift, practiced motion.

He pauses, his hand sliding over the arch of my foot. His touch is light, reverent, as though he’s savoring every inch of me. Then he leans down, his tongue darting out to trace a line over the curve.

The sensation sends an unexpected jolt through me, and I squeal, jerking involuntarily. “Damn it, Mika! That tickles!” I manage between gasps.

Mika grins up at me, entirely too pleased with himself. “Good to know,” he murmurs, his voice thick with mischief and something deeper, something primal.

“And it’s obviously bad for my health since it could lead to the separation of my head from my shoulders,” Mika teases, his tone light but full of heat. His lips press soft kisses up my calves, and his hands follow, the light brushes of his fingers leaving a trail of fire in their wake. I can’t keep still, squirming under his touch as my arousal spikes, overwhelming my senses. If I’m feeling it this strongly, I can only imagine what it’s doing to Mika.

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