Page 38 of Never Been Shipped

Maybe it was the blood quickly leaving John’s head and going straight to his lower body, but suddenly he wondered if maybethishad been the ticking time bomb in their friendship from the very start. He’d always been aware of Micah in that way. He’d thought never acting on it was the only way to keep things stable, but maybe he’d gotten that all wrong. Maybe it was a building pressure that needed a release valve or it would never go away.

He leaned on the bed, his fingers splayed against the sheets, his face close to hers. He could tell he’d taken her by surprise by the way her eyes widened and she drew in a shaky breath, and for a second he saw beneath all the bravado she had on the surface to the woman who was actually scared as hell to put herself out there like this. It was that glimpse that made him suddenly decideFuck it.

“If I wanted you to, huh?” he asked.

She nodded slowly, her gaze steady on his. “Just tell me.”

John could get off on the potential alone—the possibility. How many times had he watched the way she moved during a show, had he sat so close to her he could smell her shampoo, had he touched her in casual ways he had to pretend didn’t mean anything?

“Undo your braid.”

She reached up to pull the elastic off the end of it, her fingers a little clumsy as she untwined the strands, running her fingers through them until her hair was splayed out over her shoulders.

John wanted to reach up and touch it, but he felt weirdly like he’d made a promise—not to her even, but to himself. So he settled for just looking at her hair, letting his gaze run over it from the top of her head to where a strand swayed slightly every time she took a shallow breath.

“You really do have uncommonly beautiful hair,” he said. “I can see why it confuses people.”

“It’s just hair.”

He made a sound in the back of his throat that was meant to be a rejection of that. “Put your hands in it,” he said. “And sayFuck, I have beautiful hair.”

A smile played around her lips as she shook her head. “I’m not doing that.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh? Are we at your limit already?”

She rolled her eyes, but she reached up to bury both hands in her hair, gripping it around the scalp and scrunching it a little. “Fuck,” she said, putting the same emphasis on the word that he had. “I have beautiful hair.”

“Hmm,” he said. “That was pretty good. But I didn’tfeelit. Try again.”

She seemed to get that he was serious then, that he wasn’t going to move on until she said the words right. She slid her hands into her hair again, her grip gentler this time, more sensual. “Fuck,” she breathed, “I have beautiful hair.”

He waited for her to open her eyes again. “Perfect,” he said. “You should own that, you know.”

She was staring at him almost like he was a stranger, like she was seeing him for the first time. “What about when I cut my hair and dyed it black and looked like Prince Valiant?”

He smiled. “Then I’d make you put your hands in it and sayI’m a sexy Prince Valiant. I know it’s just hair, but it’s okay to admit it’s gorgeous.”

Her gaze went up to the top of his head, then back to his face. “I want to touch yours so badly.”

He remembered the show only a few hours ago, that slide of her hand, the way she’d tugged. “That would be breaking the rules, though,” he said. “Wouldn’t it.”

He saw the pulse jump in her throat, but she didn’t say anything in response. His gaze traced the line of her jaw, that tattoo at her neck, the hint of the one at her shoulder showing next to her exposed collarbone from the loose collar of her shirt.

“Pull your shirt down,” he said.

Chapter

Eighteen

It was thespecificity of the command that got to Micah. NotLift your shirt uporTake your shirt off, which would have made more sense, butPull your shirt down. It was the first indication that something was happening, something more than just John admiring her hair. It was the first indication that maybe he had certain fantasies, too, the same way she had.

She tugged on her shirt until it was completely off her shoulders, stretched taut under her breasts, which were still covered by the tank top underneath. Her nipples felt so tight it was almost painful, and there was no missing the way they strained against the thin fabric of her tank. She assumed John wanted her naked, but she waited, wanting to follow directions to the letter.

Something flared in his eyes as he looked from her chest back to her face. “That one, too,” he said.

It was easy to slip the straps down her arms, and then she was completely bared to him, her breasts pale and proud in the dim light of the room. She’d switched on one of the lights nextto the bed earlier but left the overhead one off, and now she was grateful for that little bit of mood lighting as John looked down at her.

“So fucking beautiful,” he said.

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