Page 72 of Save Me

He hands me my gun case, but that’s not what I notice. I notice how close he is, so close I can practically touch him, and my fingers twitch.

Reluctantly, I grab the gun.

“That is, if you’re willing to not show me up next time.” Micah arches an eyebrow. “You’re kinda a good shot.”

Why isn’t he ripping me apart? I know damn well Micah is a good shot. He’s buttering me up so he can get at my weakness. Although he has it, so why isn’t he using it? Saving it for a better time?

I narrow my gaze at Micah, evaluating. He gives me an unsure look.

Unsure? Do something, man. Pick a fight, try to get something from me, do anything.

I blow air out of my nose, and Micah bites his lip. I get caught looking at them. Those soft lips. Those lips that I’ve kissed. And between those lips, I see a flash of silver.

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, but I think I need to push Micah. Need to push him against the car and kiss him. Push him as far as he’ll let me, so he breaks and tries to come at me. Or maybe he’ll try to manipulate me into giving him more. Maybe he’s trying to make me his little sex slave.

I’m tired of waiting.

“Micah?” My voice is harsh.

Micah glances up at me, eyelashes fluttering.

“Yeah?” His voice is just as scratchy. An invitation. He’s practically screaming at me to take him.

Fuck it. He wants to play; let’s play.

I drop the gun case, grab him, and pin him up against my car. As soon as our bodies touch, it’s like a live wire lights me on fire, every sense heightened. Micah leans into me, chasing after my mouth. I let him catch it, nipping at his lips enough to make them part on a gasp. I dip down to his neck, kissing all up and down the soft skin there.

Micah groans, his hips bucking up into me, and I have the urge to mark up his neck. To bite and suck until the skin blooms purple and he’s wearing my mark. To see what he does.

His hands are on my back, tracing lower until he’s gripping my ass. “Maddox.” His touch puts me in a spell, the kind where all I can focus on, think about, is getting him to give over control to me so I can see who he really is.

I grunt, biting into his shoulder. I’m rewarded with a shiver, and suddenly I want more. I want to hear what it sounds like when he comes undone. What it sounds like when he’s under my control.

Micah is hard against me, and I roll my hips into him. He lets out a breathy exhale, and his grip on my body tightens incrementally. It just makes me hungrier.

He looks up at me, pupils huge. He’s breathless when he asks, “Should we do this out here?”

It takes me a second to register his question, and I glance around. We’re in the parking lot in a conservative state surrounded by gun-toting hicks.

Good call.

“Get in.” I unlock the car, and Micah clambers over the center console. Once we and the gun are inside, I shut and lock the door, a feeling of safety falling over me. Which is absolutely ridiculous. I'm literally crawling into bed with my enemy.

And then Micah is there at my mouth again, leaning over the console. His kisses are frequent but not aggressive, like he’s letting me take the lead, and it kicks in some primal part of my brain. I lean over him, pressing him back into the seat, taking the space he gives me.

“Mads, please.” Micah’s mouth moves against mine, and he lets out a little agonized groan.

My lips curl into a mocking smile. He’s begging me. He’s giving me the power.

Micah’s hips thrust up, and he pants into my mouth. “Please.”

The panting is giving me life. I want more of it.

My hand wanders down his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breathing, and brushes over his crotch.

Micah whimpers now, a full-blown whimper that makes my dick jerk in my pants. I stifle a moan, rubbing my hand up and down the bulge in his jeans.

“Is this it? Is this what you need?”