Page 39 of Ruthless Rose

I do?My chest expands with a deep breath before I let it go. Wow.

He proceeds to aim the sprayer at my windshield and pulls the trigger. The majority of whatever was used to decorate my car washes away in just a few seconds but leaves a smeared mess behind. “Yep, that’s not going to do it.” He gestures toward the garage. “Let’s do this right. Where’s that bucket? You have soap and sponges, too?”

“Really?”

He chuckles. “Stop questioning me wanting to help you, and let’s get it done.”

I bite my lip, grinning. “Okay.” I hurry into the garage, grab what we need and come back out. Micah takes them from me, and before I know it, he has a bucketful of bubbles and is spraying the entire car down once more with the hose.

“Are your parents home?”

“No. They—” I blow out a quick breath. “They have a therapist they see sometimes. I guess they had an appointment today. They were getting in the car to leave when I pulled up.”

He nods, picking up a sponge. His eyes land on me again, and I think he’s going to say something about my parents, but instead he glances over what I’m wearing and says, “You should go change. You don’t want your uniform getting messed up.”

“Right.” What kind of girl does it make me that I really like it when he takes charge? I don’t question it for more than a few seconds before I dart into the house, change, and am back out in a flash in old holey jeans and my favorite Princess Leia T-shirt.

Micah winks at me as he looks over his shoulder from where he’s running a soapy sponge over the car.

I try so hard not to grin, but I can’t help it. I watch him as he cleans up the windshield, the muscles in his arms and back rippling as he moves. His joggers are slung low and every time he lifts his arm to swipe the sponge over the roof, his shirt drifts upward and a band of skin peeks out, showing off those cute little indentations above his ass cheeks.

Phew. Get ahold of yourself, Daphne. Fighting back the urge to ogle him some more, I cross to the bucket of soapy water, grab a sponge, and get to work.

It’s only a few minutes later that I’ve bent down to run the sponge over the front bumper when Micah slings water from his sponge at me. Gasping as the cold water hits me, I jerk to my feet. I have no idea whether it was an accident or not, but it splattered right across my chest, wetting my T-shirt.

“Oops. Sorry about that.” There’s a cute, boyish quality to his expression that would have me forgiving him most anything.

I hide my smile. “No problem.” I dip my sponge back into the bucket, count to five, and launch my sponge across the hood, nailing Micah right in the center of his broad back.

“Hey!” he roars, spinning around, surprise written all over his features.

I scramble for the hose, barely beating him to it.

“You wouldn’t.”

My teeth rake over my lower lip as we engage in a faceoff, his hulking frame versus my lithe one. “I wouldn’t?” My brow goes up just as my finger squeezes the trigger. A spray of water shoots out, hitting Micah square in the chest and drenching him.

My eyes widen when he stalks toward me despite the water still shooting at him. His shirt is soaking wet and plastered to all of the drool-worthy muscles of his torso, and my throat goes decidedly dry as I squeal and begin to back away.

He overtakes me, pulling me into his arms, my back to his front. Stealing the hose from me, he tucks the spray nozzle against my ribs.

“No, Micah!” I gasp out my laughter right before the cold water hits me. Shrieking, I try to wrestle out of his hold.

He pauses for a second, tucking his head down next to mine. “I’m going to let you go,” he whispers, “but you might want to run.”

He releases me and I jog around the car, putting it between us. I can’t keep the dumb grin from my face.

“Hey, Daphne,”—his eyes twinkle, alight with naughtiness—“you have something on your shirt.” He aims right at me, spraying me down. If I wasn’t wet before, I’m now soaked. My eyes widen as he stalks around the car toward me. With a scream, I run, making laps around my poor car until he finally catches me. He pins me against the driver’s side door, his hard body pressed to mine, before his hands cradle either side of my neck, his fingers threading through the wet strands of my hair. His thumbs caress my jaw and his eyes, lashes spiky with water, are hooded. Desire flares low in my belly as his dick hardens against my stomach.

Oh. Hell. Yes. With ragged breath, we stare at each other until he lowers his mouth to mine. He nips at my lower lip, then slides his tongue across it, heating my blood in a way I’m growing to like very much. Our lips rub together, hungry, and his hand slides down to my breast, firmly palming it through the wet material of my T-shirt. I moan, my lips parting, and that’s all the invitation Micah needs. The next thing I know, his tongue is in my mouth, sliding against mine in a wickedly wonderful dance. I clutch at his shoulders, wanting him closer. My heart pounds frantically in rhythm with his. I can’t believe this is happening and deep down inside, I ache for more.

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