by Leila James
“No,” I whisper, the lie falling easily from my lips. I shake my head.
He chuckles, his voice husky. “It’s okay, I know you are. Tell me—are your panties wet?”
Yes. “No. Dammit, Micah. Back up, please.” I throw a hand out between us and it lands on his rock-solid chest. Mistake. That was a mistake. I want to tear my hand away but also touch more of him, and I don’t even know how that’s possible. Slowly, I withdraw.
“Your chin is trembling. Are you scared of me, Daph?”
“No.” My jaw tenses. No way am I giving him the upper hand by admitting that he both terrifies me and makes me ache with need all at the same time.
“Good. Then I’ll see you at six tonight. Coffee shop.”
I press my lips together and—against my better judgment—provoke him. I glare at him and ask, “Are you actually going to show up?” He’s the one who messed up last time, not me. He’s the one who didn’t show. I’m the one who looked like an idiot. I square my shoulders, knowing I have every right to ask.
A growl works its way up from his chest, and he allows his eyes another survey of my body. “Cute. It’s cute when you try to play tough. But I can see your knees knocking from here.” He reaches toward my chest, and pleasure shoots right through me when he flicks his thumb over my nipple again. “Fuck, if I’d known you wanted me so bad, I’d have just shown up to our tutoring session the first time.”
He winks on his way out. He fucking winks at me.
Is he serious?
I spend several minutes after that—since I’m already late for lunch—looking for what he put in my phone. I assume it was his phone number, but it’s not under Micah or Robertson. When I scroll, I finally come to a dead stop on what can only be his entry.
* * *
Daph’s Dream Dick
Chapter 12
What are the odds Micah is going to show his face today? I’m one part terrified, one part curiously excited to see him after the way he’d toyed with me, more suggestive comments ripe on his masculine lips. And I bet he has every intention of testing me with them—he knows I’m into him. At least I think that’s what this achy feeling deep in my belly is.
Of course, I haven’t admitted it yet to anyone else, but there’s something about Micah and his big dick energy that calls out to me. I’m not certain yet what I think of it—or of him—and am slightly concerned about the lengths I’ll go to figure out if it’s something I can handle.
The bell above the door to the coffee shop jingles as it opens at ten minutes to six. My brows draw together as I glance up. I’m surprised as hell to see that it’s Micah. And he’s early.
I take the few moments before he spots me to look him over. He’s wearing dark wash jeans that hang loosely on his hips and a black T-shirt with a gray imprint of the Death Star on it. My brows raise a fraction. Do we actually have something in common? I love all things Star Wars.
The thin material of the shirt stretches across his broad chest, and I swear I can make out the outline of his pecs underneath. My gaze slides to his biceps, which stretch the confines of the sleeves to their limit. All that muscle. Mmm. I know he spends quite a lot of time in the weight room, as do Xander and Beau and the rest of the football team, but he’s just really very … impressive. His hair is still a little damp from his post-practice shower, too. How can someone be so fear-inducing and yet so completely drool-worthy at the same time? Because Micah? He definitely scares me, but he also turns me on. I must be one sick puppy.
My brain takes a detour into one of my many fantasies, wondering what he’d look like standing naked in the shower, water sluicing down over his powerful body. If I were there with him, I’d soap up my hands and run them over each and every delicious ridge and dip of smooth skin, and his muscles would flex and bunch under my touch. Maybe he’d gather me tightly in his arms, trap me between his massive body and the shower wall, his cock would get hard against my belly, and I’d let myself be completely his for the taking. It’s a fantasy, after all. Maybe he’d reach between my legs and touch me— Oh jeez, Daphne. Snap out of it. I draw in a breath and let it go, my mind still fully in the throes of my little daydream.
I tune into what’s really happening in front of me, which doesn’t seem good, judging by the growly tone of his voice.
Micah is agitated as he talks into his phone, his head down with his eyes trained on the floor, his jaw twitching. I really don’t mean to overhear what he’s saying, but I do.
“You said you’d be there.” He stops to listen to whatever the person on the other end says. “Fine, whatever. Not sure why I thought you’d show. You never do.” Micah jams his thumb against the phone screen, ending the call.
I plaster a smile on my face. Whoever he was talking to has upset him, and that makes me feel … kind of terrible. The stony look on his face doesn’t bode well for our study session either, but we’ll have to make the best of it. I consider it a win that he’s actually shown up. “Hi.”
He’s clearly still distracted when he glances up at me. “Oh. Hey.” He sneaks a look at his phone. “I’m early. Does that make up for last time?” He shoots me a half-smile that’s a little irresistible, if I’m being honest.
“Um, I don’t think that’s how it works, but I appreciate you being here and not leaving me hanging again.” I clear my throat and gesture at the seat across from me.
He nods, setting his bag down. “I’m just going to get coffee or something. I’m only half awake.” He grunts. “Rough practice today.”
My stomach rumbles, and I wince.
“Do you need something to eat?”
I glance down at my hands. “No, I’m fine. I’ll have dinner when I get home.”
“I can get you something if you’re hungry now.”
I shake my head. “Really. I’m fine.”
“Suit yourself.” He shrugs.
I watch his athletic form as he strides up to the counter. I wonder what it would be like to walk around with that kind of confidence. Sure, sometimes it comes across as cockiness, but I’m certain this guy has never had a moment’s worry about most things. He makes small talk with Kendra without a trace of uncertainty or insecurity in his deep voice—never stumbling over his words, always knowing exactly what to say. He’s fearless, when I’d prefer to hang out at home and not have to worry about talking to anyone else ever again. We’re very different people, that’s for sure, even if he is a Star Wars fan.
The whole time he’s talking to her as she gets his drink, my eyeballs are glued to his ass. Holy shit, this guy is just big all over. I wonder what it’d be like to grab a couple of handfuls, spread my legs, and hang on tight while he drives his big—
“Daph?” He frowns as he towers over me, coffee in hand. “What the fuck are you thinking about right now?”
I blink, realizing what my face probably looks like—pink cheeks, lips parted, eyes staring off into space. “Oh. Uh, nothing. Just wondering if I should get another cup of tea.”
He scoots his chair around so he can sit right next to me. “Liar,” he grits out under his breath.
My gaze snaps to his. “What did you say?”
“You’re lying to me.” The tone of his voice is chilling, like ice-cold steel.
I look into his dark eyes and just barely stop the shiver from rolling through me. “How do you figure?”
Micah drops into the chair, tilting his head to the side in the same way my grandma’s cat does when he’s about to attack for no reason whatsoever. “Well, I’ve been noticing a lot about you lately.”
My brows go up and my throat becomes very dry.
“Every time I say something kinda dirty to you, your skin gets all flushed and those green eyes of yours flash at me. It’s pretty hot.” He leans in and says almost conspiratorially, “By the way, your nipples seem to like me, even if you don’t. They were hard as diamonds.” He bites down on his lip, shaking his head, as if he’s remembering standing there between my legs and touching me. He’s got a smirk on h
is face, and I want to slap it right off him.
What he’s not so subtly letting me know is that he knows what I look like when I’m turned on. That I like what he’s been saying to me, what he’s been doing. He’s all too aware that every last thing he does excites me.
“All it took was me whispering in your ear to make your pulse race like a stampeding herd of horses. Or maybe it was just that I was standing so close.” He leans closer to me as he says it, as if to prove his point.
My face goes up in flames.
And I feel like I’ll lose ground with him if I deny it now, so I shrug, bolstering my courage. “Lots of things get me hot, Micah. Don’t flatter yourself.” I use up all the false bravado I have with those two little sentences. He sees right through it. Crap.
With a throaty chuckle, he nods. “Yeah? Like what? Tell me what else makes your panties wet, Daph.”
Oh, shit. Eject. Get me out of here. My eyes are a little wild as I search for something, anything else to say. Anything to get his focus off of the obvious things that turn me on—like him. I point at his shirt, speaking more confidently than I’m feeling. “Star Wars. I’m a huge fangirl.”
“Is that so?” He edges his chair closer to mine, and puts his hand on my knee, sliding it a bit under my skirt. It’s big and warm, and the feel of his calloused fingertips gently caressing my inner thigh all but short circuits my brain. Oh my God, I can’t concentrate on Star Wars when he’s doing that.
I suck in air, trying to act like his touch doesn’t affect me at all. And dammit, how is it I’m doing all the talking, but he’s decidedly in control of the conversation? “Yep. I like picking apart the science of it. Or lack thereof. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I can ignore that stuff and love it just the same, but have you ever thought about why all of their planets only seem to have one environment? Like an ice planet or a jungle moon? Seems off to me. Most habitable planets are going to have a rather complex ecosystem, don’t you think? If you live on Tattooine, you wouldn’t want to have to go all the way to Hoth to go ice skating, am I right?”
Holy shit, I don’t know where that babble just came from, but the more I say, the bigger the twist on Micah’s lips becomes and the further up my skirt his hand goes. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. My breath is a little erratic as I forge on, ignoring the burn of his hand on my thigh. “And don’t you find it a little strange that the majority of the main characters in these movies are humanoid? Why would all of these aliens be so biologically similar? The Star Wars galaxy would have to be a far smaller place if we think multiple beings would all evolve so similarly, never mind that they’d all gather at a cantina on Mos Eisley for a drink.”
Holy crap, I’ve let my science nerd and movie buff out in front of Micah all at once. And … I could swear he likes it. Someone help me, because my plan to distract him isn’t working. That, or he’s turning the tables and trying to prove to me that I’m a big, fat liar. Next thing you know, I’ll blurt out that I was dreaming about us getting naked together, about me holding onto his ass for dear life as he thrusts into my body—and then it’ll all be downhill from there.
He hasn’t said anything about my Star Wars rant so far, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking. It would be easier to handle Micah if we have something in common. And … maybe we do?
My brows go up, encouraging him to say something. I try to swallow and find I can’t. My own body is betraying me. All I can concentrate on is the lazy sweep back and forth of his fingers over my inner thigh. It’s drugging.
Intoxicating.
Hot. Micah Robertson’s hand is halfway up my skirt. Super popular, football-playing-Rose Micah Robertson. He looks up at me from under hooded eyes. My breath stutters, and my tongue darts out to wet my lip.
That’s when I notice it—his lips are outright twitching. He lets out a sharp burst of laughter. “Fuck. You’re ruining the whole movie franchise for me.”
I’m pretty sure his hand is maybe three inches from the edge of my panties. Show no fear. I smirk at him. “Anyway. I’m just saying most of the science was off. I still love it, though. Now, would you remove your hand from my thigh so we can get some work done?”
He shakes his head, chuckling, but he does as I request. “Do you always talk this fucking much?”
“No. Actually, I don’t.” My teeth scrape over my lower lip as I wonder what he’ll do next. “I thought maybe I could distract you.”
“You did. In more ways than one.” His eyes return to my skirt and then make a lazy path up over my shirt.
If he had X-ray vision, he’d see my nipples are tight little peaks, just like he’d pointed out earlier. I wish he’d touch me again. Just not here in the coffee shop. Well, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. Shit. I think crazy thoughts when he’s this close to me.
“What exactly do you think you’re distracting me from?”
I nod in the direction of his phone set on the other side of the table. “Whoever upset you earlier.”
And just like that, he shuts me down. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Chewing the inside of my cheek, I study his features. He’s put on a mask to hide whatever he’s feeling right now—but I know. I’d seen it on his face when he’d come in. I shrug, pretending indifference. “Okay. Let’s get to work, then.”
He pulls out his physics homework and, surprisingly, he listens to the suggestions I provide, asks questions, and makes the process relatively painless. That is, until we get down to the last problem, when he seems somewhat disturbed again after checking his phone.
“Come on, just one more to go.” I throw caution to the wind and nudge him under the table with my knee. “It’s the 4th quarter, and we just passed the two-minute warning, Micah. Let’s buckle down and finish this.”
A flicker of warmth shows in his eyes at my football analogy, but it’s gone quickly. “Why are you still in your school uniform, anyway? Not that I mind. Easy access and all. There’s nothing quite like the ease of stealing into the bathroom in the middle of the school day, flipping a skirt up, and going at it.”
My lips part involuntarily, but I catch myself before I let him know just how far he’s thrown me off balance. I inhale carefully. My blazer hangs on the back of the chair, and I look at the button-down shirt hiding my 32-A bust and smooth my hands over my skirt—cringing at the idea of what he must see when he looks at me. I decide to play it off like what he just said didn’t make my jaw want to drop wide open in astonishment. Does he really screw girls in the bathroom at school? I’m such a naive idiot. Of course he does. This guy and I shouldn’t even exist in the same galaxy, much less on the same planet.
The best I can do is try to ignore what I know was an attempt at getting a rise out of me. I release the breath I’d been holding. “Oh. I didn’t go home today before coming here.”
“Next time you should go home and change.” He shrugs. “So you’ll be more comfortable.” He taps the end of his pencil against his full lips, which only serves to draw my attention to them and makes me wonder what they’d feel like. On mine.
“I’m fine. I’m used to the uniform.”
“Maybe I’d like to see you in something else,” he murmurs, glancing back down at the last problem.
I prop my elbow on the table and twist sideways to peer into his face. Chewing the inside of my cheek, I rest my head on my hand. “You confuse me, Micah.”
He grunts. “How?”
“You’ve been … not so nice to me since the headmaster asked me to help get your grades up. You’ve been accusatory and rude, and I can tell you do certain things just to unnerve me, but I don’t know why. I don’t understand.”
“Maybe you’re not supposed to.” He shoves the paper over to me. “Done?”
I glance briefly at his work, and seeing nothing wrong with it, I nod. “Yep.”
He grabs his bag, swings it over his shoulder, and walks out without another word.
It doesn’t occur to me until he’s gone that I’ve forgotten that I
still have to go home and make signs to put on his lockers and bake some cookies or something. He probably has no idea I’m his new spirit girl, and I toy with the idea of just not telling him. It’s probably for the best he doesn’t know. Let him figure it out on his own.
Formulating a plan of action, I pack up my book bag, then head home to implement it.
One thing Micah will soon learn is when given a project, I give it 110 percent every single time. I’m going to be the best damn spirit girl Rosehaven has ever seen.
Chapter 13
There’s nothing quite like sneaking around the school early. I have special permission to do so, of course, and I’m also armed with Micah’s locker combinations. It still felt a little odd to me, but I guess Rosehaven’s Spirit Squad is a trustworthy bunch of kids.
I hit Micah’s main locker first, hastily pulling Scotch tape out of my bag and hanging up the big, bold individual letters that spell out Go, Micah! Of course, everything I do has an artistic twist, so there are little hand-drawn footballs and helmets decorating each letter. Pretty cute, if I do say so myself. Hopefully, not too cute for the big, bad tight end. I bite my lip, staring at the finished locker for a few seconds, then shrug. It’s not like I have time to change it now.
With the hanging of the sign accomplished, I pull out his locker combo, break in, and leave a container of chocolate chip cookies for him that Scarlett helped me bake. It’s a good thing she was such a good sport when I texted her after eight last night, because I’m really terrible at baking. I’d been desperate for help, so I spilled to her about being Micah’s spirit girl. Later, over cookies, I’d shared about being forced onto the homecoming committee, too. She’d been totally sympathetic.
I hurry down to the other end of the school where the gym is located, glad I haven’t run into anyone at all so far. No one needs to know I’m doing this. Definitely not Micah.
I think the rest of the spirit squad must have put up their stuff yesterday after school. Several of the lockers I pass already have signs up on them. If I’d thought about it, I’d have done that too, but I’d been so worked up about whether or not Micah was going to show up for tutoring, I hadn’t even considered it.
