Page 74 of Tapped

“No, not that. I mean, I appreciate knowing that. For some reason, I trust you. If I didn’t, you wouldn’t be here.” Then the words rush out of my mouth. “I am too. Clean.”

A slow smile touches his lips. “That’s good to know, since you’re a doctor, and you said you haven’t been with your husband in forever. I’m still waiting for your question.”

“I told you, I changed my mind.”

A wrinkle forms between his blue eyes.

“I just want you to know that you going to the funeral with me means a lot. And it means even more after you told me about your sister. I don’t remember the last time someone was that selfless for me.”

He stares at me.

“So, thank you,” I add. “It means even more to me now.”

His arms constrict around me, holding me impossibly tight. I couldn’t get away if I wanted to. He tips my head back, and I think this is it. That he’s about to kiss me, and this really might happen.

“That asshole who used to live here,” he growls. “He didn’t deserve you. He doesn’t deserve you. Know that, Evie. Don’t let your shit marriage fool you. Anyone who has you right here, like this? Expect them to hand you the fucking world.” I lose my breath when he presses on my bottom, holding me tight to his cock. “You deserve it.”

I shake my head, not because I don’t understand, but because everything he just said hits me somewhere deep.

A place I’ve closed off and ignored. I pretended I didn’t need it from anyone, especially the person I should’ve expected it from the most.

“Promise me, Evie. Demand the fucking world, because I have a feeling you give it in spades.”

He instantly blurs when my eyes well. “I don’t understand why you’re here. I’m a shitshow. A prisoner in my own home. I have nothing to offer you besides a decent homemade marinara and fresh green chili sauce. I didn’t even save you very many donuts. Hell, Cadence ate two of them.”

“I don’t want to talk about your sister or food.” From the sound of it, he doesn’t want to talk about my homemade sauces either. “I want to talk about you and pick up where we left off this morning.”

I fist the thin T-shirt covering his muscled chest. “I’m not going to lie, Micah. I’m nervous.”

His embrace loosens a touch, and his face backs away from mine. “About me?”

I shake my head and hold him to me. “No. Not you. It’s just been…”

“It’s been what?” he demands.

I pause, not wanting to say it. Not at all wanting to admit just how depressing my life has been.

My marriage.

The accident.

Loneliness…

“Evie.” He bites my name with a tinge of desperation and anger. “What?”

“I haven’t had sex in a long time,” I spit. “And you know what? I’m not sorry. My marriage was bad for years. I didn’t want him, and he certainly didn’t give a shit about me. That’s evident. But, it’s still been a long time. I…” I close my eyes and exhale. I’ll feel better if I get it out. When I open my eyes, his are imploring, begging for my next words. “I don’t want to be a disappointment.”

His expression relaxes, and so does his hold on me. But that doesn’t mean he lets me go. Gone is the intensity that overtook him moments ago.

“Micah?” I call to him. “What’s wrong?”

His hands return to my hips. I’m forced to grip his shoulders to hang on when he lifts me.

Now I’m wrapped up in the special agent in a whole other way. My legs straddle his hips. My sex is pressed to his cock. I feel it through the thin shorts I threw on after I shaved everything.

And his hands.

One has worked its way up my tank, hot on my bare skin with only my thin bra strap separating us. The other is plastered to my ass again holding me tight. And the promise of what’s to come, if I just let loose and don’t overthink this the way I overthink everything.

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