Page 75 of Tapped

His lips take mine. This kiss isn’t soft nor does it ease me into anything. Micah devours me, drinks me in. If he could consume me, I think he might.

And I’m here for it.

I’m here for all of it.

I sink into him and take every ounce.

His hand on my ass slides to my bare thigh and squeezes. His hold on my bare skin does things to me. Things that haven’t happened in a long time.

A flush warms my skin. Every nerve ending in my body is alert. My heart speeds.

I’m wet.

And alive.

Damn, I don’t remember the last time I’ve felt so alive.

I slide my hands up his chest, his neck, and into his hair. Just when I think I can’t get closer to him, he pulls away from me.

His heated eyes hit me. “I don’t want to know what you’re afraid of. I can handle any fear you throw at my feet. I only want to know what you want.”

I don’t answer, but I do shift my hips and grind against his hard cock. I feel abrasive denim through my shorts when all I want is him.

His heated gaze drags over my face and drops between us quickly before he mutters, “I’ve never had a shot at anyone like you. Tell me what you want, Evie.”

I force myself to swallow over the lump in my throat when I finally admit, “I want to forget everything.”

His tongue peeks out and wets the crease of his lips. It’s like he’s begging for more. I wonder if he’s imagining what I’ll taste like on the tip of his tongue.

Because I’ve imagined the same.

My thoughts … they’ve been all over the place.

I want something the old Evie would never dream of.

I do something selfish. Something that could be reckless if I allow my heart to get involved. Because that’s definitely a possibility. I don’t do anything in life that isn’t led with my heart.

“Make me forget everything…” His hand wrapped around the back of my thigh gives me a firm squeeze as I finish. “But you.”

He easily stands with me in his arms. He’s impossibly big and strong and makes me feel like a feather. We’re up the stairs and down the hall before I know it. He takes me straight to the room I shared with Jeff since my parents bought us this house as a wedding gift.

To a room I went from loving my husband in to hating him in. I might have pretended everywhere else in my life that my marriage wasn’t spiraling down the drain, but not in here. Here, I was the ice queen, and he let me know it at every turn.

But not now.

I’m smoldering.

My feet hit the floor before we get to the bed, and Micah grips the hem of my tank and pulls. It’s over my head and on the floor before I know it. His eyes drop to my breasts at the same time he pushes my shorts over my hips. I kick them to the side. My nipples are peeking out of black lace that matches my thong. It’s the sexiest lingerie I own, and I had to dig it out of the back of a drawer. It’s not comfortable, it’s itchy, and there’s been no reason to wear it.

But from the look on Micah’s face, I know I chose well.

At least, I thought I did until he takes a step back and drops to a knee in front of me. His gaze is zeroed in on my scar.

His hands frame my rib cage and this thumb swipes the pink puckered skin on my abdomen. “What’s this?”

I try to cover it up, but he pushes my hand away.

“No.” He frowns again and demands, “What happened to you?”

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