Page 71 of Ruthless Rose

Chapter 38

Up in my bedroom I gesture to the bed, then belatedly realize what I’ve done, and point to the desk chair instead. “You can, um, sit. I’ll be right back.” I hustle into the bathroom, grab the mud mask jar, and return to him with a twinkle in my eye. “Ready?”

He eyes the jar in my hand and mumbles something under his breath that sounds like What have I done? Shaking his head in amusement, he shrugs out of his blazer, then unknots his tie, yanking it over his head. “I’m guessing this could get messy.”

“You’d be right. Better take off the shirt, too.” Wow, Daphne. Way to get him to strip for you. My eyes track his fingers as they work the buttons. He tosses the shirt on top of the blazer, which he’d hung on my desk chair, leaving him in a formfitting white undershirt. My mouth waters as my gaze slides over his chest.

He shakes his head, grimacing as he sits down, not on the desk chair, but on my bed. “You aren’t going to let this go, huh?”

Trying to keep my cool, I laugh, “Nope.” I unscrew the lid and scoop some out onto my fingers. “We’ll call this my experiment since you seem to like those.”

He gives me a little smirk—a total panty-melter—and I try to breathe normally so he doesn’t know how much he affects me.

Stepping closer, I tip his face up, then begin to spread the goop over his cheeks.

I’m mid-application when Micah’s hands find my hips and tug me closer.

Standing between his legs, I continue to paint the cold mud onto his skin. His eyes watch my every move, and his hands have slipped under my shirt onto my hips, his thumbs tracing circles on the sensitive skin there and leaving a tingling path everywhere they travel.

I struggle to pull in a normal breath. My mind is swamped with everything that’s happened in the last few days. Yet, standing here, so close to him, none of that seems real. Much like I’d thought the other day, Micah seems to have one side he shows to the world and another he shares with me alone.

“This feels weird.” His fingers slide under and around the waistband of my pajamas.

I tentatively smile, unsure what he means. “What feels weird, the mask?”

His hands slide inside the back of my pajama pants, cupping my ass.

“Or did you mean my a—”

“I meant the crap you’re putting on my face.” With a squeeze of his hands, he whispers, “I think you’re pretty perfect.”

“I guarantee you I’m not.” I finish applying the mask and set the jar down on the nightstand.

“I like you like this, though.” He clears his throat. “I guess now that we both have this stuff on our faces, maybe it’s a good time to discuss a few things.”

I run my clean hand up the side of his neck and slide my fingers behind his head, loving the feel of the short hair against my skin. Slowly, I nod. “Okay.”

“First—and this seems appropriate with my hands on your ass—I love your body. When you get turned on, your nipples get so tight, it’s all I can do not to suck on them. I love cupping your ass in my hands.” He rakes his teeth over his lower lip as he looks calmly into my eyes and squeezes my butt cheeks again. “And your pussy…” He growls, the sound reverberating through his chest. “Well, it’s the stuff my goddamn dreams are made of.”

I drag in an unsteady breath.

“I love the way you smell. The way you taste. How soft your skin is. I fucking love it. And I just wanted to make sure you knew that.” He slides his hands down further, and my pajama pants pool on the floor. His touch is like magic; those big rough hands skim lightly over my outer thighs and up under my shirt to my belly, then around to my back. Stepping out of my pjs, I kick the bunny slippers off before placing a knee on the bed on either side of his hips. He groans, wrapping his arms behind my back. His lips nip along my jaw, just below the mask, then brush carefully across my mouth. A surge of desire races through me, jolting down my spine. My entire body aches, wanting him.

When his hand skates under my shirt and finds my bare breast, I’m overcome by lust. Our gazes connect, and before I even know what’s happening, we crash together. Our tongues taste, stroke, and lick as we ravage each other.

Micah’s cock is rock-hard between my legs, and I can’t stop the motion of my hips as I slide myself over him. He begins to ease us backward on the bed, but then he stops, swearing. “How fucking fast can we get these masks off?”

I press my lips together, trying not to laugh. “Fast.” I clamber off of his lap and march us both into the bathroom down the hall where we wash the semi-dry goop off of our faces.

Our skin pink from scrubbing, we stand there looking at each other, chests rising and falling in rhythm. His fingers dive into my hair on either side of my head, and he tilts my face up. His delicious mouth slants hungrily over mine, tongue sweeping inside. My heart rate goes through the roof as he lifts me onto the bathroom counter, stepping between my legs. He changes the angle of our kiss, going deeper. It’s so deep I’m scared I’m going to lose myself. The passionate urgency strikes a chord in me, and I give myself over to it, letting Micah lead me down a wicked path.

In a mad tangle of limbs, we divest each other of our T-shirts before our mouths slam back together. The added sensation of my bare breasts rubbing against his chest whips the growing storm inside me to hurricane levels, blowing and swirling through my system.

My legs wrap around his hips, and he immediately grinds his hard dick against me. I’m going to melt. Or burn up. Or die. Something.

His voice is husky near my ear. “I want to be inside you. I want your tight pussy squeezing the fuck out of my cock.”

I whimper as he lifts me from the counter and slowly makes his way back to my room.

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