Page 56 of King of Praise
Despite his formidable appearance—the broad shoulders, the muscular frame, the inherent authority he projects—there is vulnerability in his concern for my safety. This man who navigates Columbus’s criminal underworld without fear is now genuinely terrified to let me out of his sight for a few hours.
The realization softens my frustration with his overprotectiveness.
He cares.
I reach to unbuckle my seatbelt, the click echoing in the quiet cab. Micah’s eyes track my movement as I shift in my seat. His expression remains guarded, but I catch the slight quickening of his breath as I maneuver myself across the console.
The leather seat creaks as I settle into his lap, my thighs bracketing his hips. Even through layers of winter clothing, I feel the heat of his body, the solid strength of him beneath me. His hands find my waist automatically, steadying me, though he makes no other move.
“Naomi.” My name comes out as a warning, but I hear the underlying need in his voice.
“Shh.” I press a finger to his lips, feeling them part beneath my touch. “Let me have this.”
Replacing my finger with my lips, I kiss him softly, a gentle press meant to reassure. But as always happens between us, thesimple contact ignites something deeper. Micah’s hand slides into my hair, fingers tangling in the curls as he takes control of the kiss.
A small sound escapes me as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping into my mouth with possessive intent. The passion between us, so recently discovered, flares with minimal provocation. My fingers curl into his beard for balance as he explores my mouth with thorough attention, drawing out little whimpers I can’t suppress.
The kiss transforms from comfort to pure heat. Micah’s other hand slips beneath my coat, finding bare skin where my sweater has ridden up. Electricity shoots through my body, making me arch against him. His grip tightens in response, a growl rumbling in his chest.
The sound goes straight to my core, awakening needs I’m still learning to embrace. This need flows freely between us, a force of nature neither of us tries to contain.
When we finally separate, both breathless, Micah’s eyes have darkened to near black. The raw want in his gaze makes me shiver, but there’s tenderness too as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. The contrast between this gentle gesture and the dominant force he embodies in bed continues to fascinate me.
His thumb traces my cheekbone, calloused skin catching on my flushed face.
“Be careful today,” he murmurs, voice rough with lingering desire.
I lean into his touch, savoring the connection. “I will be.”
“If anything feels wrong—”
“I’ll call immediately,” I finish for him. “I know the protocols.”
His other hand smooths down my back, the touch both possessive and soothing. “And you’ll meet me here—”
“At exactly four o’clock.” I can’t help smiling at his predictable concerns. “I’ve got my phone, the emergency numbers, and enough cash for anything I might want to buy. I promise I’ll be careful.”
The worry doesn’t leave his eyes entirely, but his lips quirk in a slight smile. “Cheeky.”
“You like it.” I steal another quick kiss before he can respond.
This time when we part, resignation replaces some of the tension in his features. He knows he has to let me do this—has to give me space to reclaim some normalcy. The fact that he’s trying, despite his obvious reservations, means more than I can express.
“I do like it,” he admits, his hands settling back on my hips. “But you need to go now, or I’m going to take you back to the cabin and show you exactly how much.”
Heat pools low in my belly at the promise in his voice. For a moment, I’m tempted to let him follow through on that threat, but Olivia is waiting. I need this connection to the world beyond our private sanctuary.
With reluctance, I slide back across to my seat, immediately missing his warmth. As I gather my purse and adjust my clothing, Micah rattles off instructions again—where to meet, when to return, emergency protocols if something goes wrong. I listen dutifully, though we’ve been over this multiple times already.
Finally, I step into the cold winter air, adjusting my woolen hat lower over my distinctive red curls. The sunglasses feel unnecessary given the overcast day, but they provide an additional layer of anonymity I can’t afford to discard.
As I walk toward the café where Olivia waits, I feel Micah’s gaze following me, a tangible weight between my shoulder blades. The knowledge that he will remain nearby, ready tointervene if necessary, provides both comfort and a strange constraint—freedom circumscribed by boundaries.
My boots crunch on salt-covered pavement as I navigate the parking lot, each step carrying me closer to normalcy. The anxiety I’ve been suppressing threatens to surface, but I push it down firmly.
I deserve this small taste of freedom. A few hours of shopping and lunch with a friend shouldn’t feel like such a monumental risk.
Yet as I approach the café’s entrance, I can’t help glancing over my shoulder one last time. Micah’s truck remains in its strategic position, a dark sentinel against the winter sky.
