A Moment of Weakness

by Brooklyn Skye

  Micah kissed his daughter’s forehead then blew her one more kiss from the doorway, thankful the lightless room didn’t allow Shae to see the knuckle-sized gouge on the side of his head. Curled into a ball on her bed, Shae caught the imaginary kiss and tucked it under the covers. “Just in case I wake up scared,” she said, rolling onto her side with a yawn.

  “Daddy’s here, which means there’s no reason you should be scared. Good night, baby girl.”

  In the kitchen, Laurel stood facing the sink, a scrub brush in one hand and a pot in the other. The woman prepared a full meal every night. Sure, the food was great, not to mention good for Shae to have more variety than what was offered at The Alibi, but what would his daughter expect once school started back up and it was time for Laurel to go? Micah didn’t know how to cook past microwavable noodles and PB&J sandwiches, and the sudden realization that his daughter would grow up on foods that most likely didn’t provide the essentials she needed to be healthy pressed a sickly fizz into his stomach.

  For a moment, he stood watching the delicate muscles in Laurel’s back gather and crinkle beneath the thin white straps of her tank top as she scrubbed the pot. Tight black stretch pants—leggings?—covered her bottom half, providing Micah with a full-access view to the perfectly formed ass that lay beneath. One that no amount of gym time could give, but must have been graced by the man above.

  Damn, that wasn’t going to help the battle his mind was fighting, the guilt radiating throughout him not simply because he was staring at her, but for how it was making him feel. Because this fascination with Laurel—the way his mind continuously wandered around thoughts of what it would feel like to pin her naked body beneath him—was going to end up costing him.

  Just like earlier today, when one of Russo’s guys had landed a fist of brass knuckles to Micah’s temple. The scrawny-but-quick dickface had been prepared, and Micah hadn’t because his mind was stuck on the memory of Laurel’s ass pressed against him on the kiddie train. The feel of her trapped between the wall and him, even her slender hand in his.

  He’d hooked up with women since working for Russo, though none of them had ever interfered with his focus, ever been a distraction that put him in danger. Laurel was an itch he desperately needed to scratch, to expel this fascination with her out of his system, so next time one of Russo’s guys didn’t pull something more deadly on him.

  “Laurel,” he said, resting his shoulder against the wall.

  “Oh!” The dish brush flipped into the air then landed with a clink against the pot. Quickly she spun around, her hand flying to her chest, but the moment she laid eyes on him, a slow smile pushed up her lips. “I’m sorry. I was so caught up in my head I didn’t hear you come in.” She brushed her hair back from her face with the side of her arm. “Are you hungry? We had chicken and mashed potatoes. There’s some left over in the fridge.”

  “I’m not hungry,” he said, sliding into the room. His blood pumped harder, the familiar predatory feel to the way his feet moved with purpose. Only this taking wasn’t for money. This was all because he’d had one taste of her and his mind wouldn’t shut the hell up about taking another.

  Micah took three deliberately slow steps toward Laurel and she stopped smiling because, holy heck, he was seriously intimidating. Whenever he was in the same room as her, his presence took up too much space. So much that it pressed her against the counter, squeezing the last traces of breath out of her.

  As he closed the space between them, his eyes drifted away from hers and scrolled from her neck all the way down to her feet. Everywhere his gaze focused, she felt it, like his eyes were hands skating over every inch of her.

  This wasn’t what she had planned when taking the job from him. Feeling so overwhelmed with…attraction to him. With the strange flustered feeling in her chest every time he came into the room. With the knowing that her body was really starting to like him.

  As he stalked closer, a reddish splotch on the side of his head caught her attention. Blood. “Your head…” She rushed up to him and stood on her tiptoes to better see. “Micah, how did this happen?”

  Up close, the rich scent of man and him and—oh, my gosh—something she wanted to bury her face in all night long knocked her dizzy.

  Seriously? Did all women react this way around him? Or was it just her and her pathetic boyfriend-less stint?

  Micah set his jaw and grit his teeth. His eyes flicked over her shoulder as he muttered, “Bar fight.”

  She poked her tongue into her cheek, tilting her head at the same time. “In the early evening? Someone drunk enough to start a fight at that time?”

  A crease appeared on his forehead and she couldn’t tell if it was a result of confusion or fascination. He said nothing.

  Her breath bottled up in her chest. Jeez, why couldn’t she just breathe normally when she was this close to him? “I mean…,” she said, “…I can help you clean it up so it doesn’t get infected.” She turned for the sink, but he snatched up her wrist.

  “Laurel, I don’t want leftovers.” He slid his hand up her arm, tracing over the scar she’d told him about earlier. “And I sure as hell don’t want to be mothered.” Bit by bit, he lowered to her level, eyes meeting hers as if he wanted to gauge her reaction as he whispered, “All I’ve been able to think about since this afternoon is if you always taste as amazing as you did last night.” Gently he placed a lingering kiss on her cheek then slid his mouth to her ear. “And I intend to find out. Right here, right now.”

  His hand slowly trailed all the way up her spine until he was fingering the back of her neck, scorching hot as if every single part of her he touched was branded with him. His fingers pressed into the base of her neck, his mouth no more than half an inch from her jaw. So close it was impossible to tell what was feathering her skin—his breath or his lips.

  She wanted to tell him to go ahead. To take whatever he dang well pleased, because let’s face it, she hadn’t been able to get past that kiss either, but her voice was stuck somewhere in her throat and her breath had vanished clear out of her chest and was this how people had heart attacks? From the anticipation of a kiss?

  Eyes locking on hers and never once leaving her face, he unhurriedly slid his mouth closer and closer. Every millimeter, her heart doubled in speed, and it wasn’t their first kiss—wasn’t the suspense of not knowing what his lips would feel like. The beating in her chest was knowing exactly what his kiss felt like and wanting—no…craving—that feeling again.

  What would she crave if they’d gone farther than just a searing hot kiss? What would his burning touch feel like somewhere else on her body?

  His mouth continued sliding toward hers, and her heart continued jackhammering in her chest, and then there were only three millimeters left. Then two. Then one.

  It wasn’t fireworks. Wasn’t any kind of magical explosion. When his mouth covered hers and his tongue parted her lips, it was more like she was dying. Like this kiss was the very breath her lungs needed, and if she didn’t get more she would shrivel up or suffocate or, she didn’t know, die.

  The thought was ridiculous, and Laurel knew she probably looked like a half-drunken, lust-crazed woman right now, but she couldn’t help it. All day long, her body had been twisted so tight, thoughts of Micah and his words about stripping her bare to pleasure her haunting her every move.

  This was a really bad idea—kissing her boss. But right now, all she needed was release and if he was willing to give it…

  He tugged her closer, guiding her backside to the counter with a few broad steps. She felt so tiny in his arms, so helpless against the rage of sensations that blasted through her with his every touch. With the steadfastness of his fingers as they weaved into her hair and tipped her head back so he could deepen the kiss.

  His tongue stroked hers, weakening the strength in her legs. Christ, this man literally makes me weak in the knees. She wound her arms around his neck, pressing her body closer to his. He used the leverage to lift her to th
e counter, placing her rear just along the edge. With one hand he separated her legs and stepped between them, the heat of his body and the caress of his tongue clamping her insides even tighter.

  Wrong as it seemed, a wild, untamed, dangerous buzz zipped through her.

  He felt dangerous.

  And she liked it.

  The unfamiliar ache in her body craved more of his touch, of the way he memorized her with his fingertips, as if he needed to trace every curve, to imprint the contours of her body into his memory. And then his fingers slipped beneath the straps of her tank, tugged them down past her elbows to expose her bare breasts.

  “What about Shae?” she leaned back and asked. “What if she comes out for a drink?”

  He shook his head. “I set a bottle of water by her bed. She won’t be coming out.”

  He’d planned ahead… So he’d known he was going to do this? I wonder what else he’s planning to do.

  Micah licked his lips, the sight of his tongue snaking between his lips every bit as predator-like as the feel. “A nanny with exquisite tits. Who’d have thought?”

  Her cheeks warmed instantly; no man had ever said something so blunt to her before.

  “These are mine for tonight.”

  Or that…

  He ran the backs of his hands down her cheeks.

  “And I want to see this pink turn to red when you come and scream my name. Do you think you can manage that, Laurel?”

  Oh, as long as he kept saying her name in that throaty tone, she’d definitely be able to handle that. His finger swept over her mouth, lingering long and slow on her bottom lip. A whimper escaped, and instead of answering him, she arched her spine toward him, a salacious grin taking over her mouth.

  He let out a soft chuckle. “I see,” he said, pinching her nipple between his fingers and rolling it back and forth until it pebbled, “we have the same thing in mind.” One simple touch, accompanied by his whispered words, and her body lit up like a flare, flickering with pulses of the need for more. He worked one breast, cupping and kneading, and just when the over-attention started to drive her mad, sending tingles past her waistband, plummeting low into her belly, he slid to the other side. At the same time, he took her mouth, his lips and tongue driving in unison.

  Drunk on lust—there was no other way to explain the unsteady, lightheaded fog slowly sinking over her. Gasping for breath, she broke away from his mouth. “More—”

  Wait. No. Oh my god, had she really just begged her boss for more?

  “Don’t worry,” Micah said, his lips traveling down her neck. “I intend to do much, much more with you.” His tongue circling her nipples, one after the other, slowly he dragged her leggings down her rear and legs and threw them to the ground. The cool rush of air chilled her skin, but then he sucked one nipple into his mouth, and she burst into fire. Burying his head between her breasts, he licked and kissed and squeezed. Her fingers grappled through his hair, searching desperately for a way to scream out that he’d tripped her wire and she was putty in his hands. He wasn’t even touching between her legs yet and she was already throbbing with the need for pressure. She wound her legs around his middle and squeezed them tight, so tight that the feel of his rock-hard erection beneath his jeans was somewhat of a relief. A strained groan floated into the space between them and burst a wave of confidence over her. So he was desperate for release too?

  “I want to know every inch of you,” he muttered, his lips against her collarbone. “I want to kiss you from head to toe. But first…” One finger slid beneath her lace panties and drew a single line along her folds. “I want to taste this.”

  So demanding. And the words shot through her fast and hard, like the sudden pop of a Champagne bottle. Yes, she wanted that too.

  His teeth grazed the skin across her chest. “Is that all right with you, Laurel?” By the insatiable glint in his eyes, she had a feeling it wasn’t proper permission he was looking for. And she didn’t care. She just wanted to be closer to him, to drown in his musky scent and the feel of his mouth on her.

  “Okay,” she said breathlessly anyway.

  “Good.” Like a man on a mission, he gripped the sides of her panties and slid them down her legs then added them to the pile of clothes. Her whole body blazed like a live wire; her blood, her bones, her nerves were all singing with the need to feel his mouth between her legs.

  A fluttery, empty feeling trembled in her belly as he firmly planted one hand on her knee. He lowered and kissed the inside of her leg, from behind her knee up her thigh. A vicious shiver centered all her wants and wishes and desires into one location. The very place he was inching closer and closer to.

  Could the man move any slower? Her hands laced through his hair and tried to pull him in. Close the distance. Oh god, she’d never wanted something so fiercely before.

  “Hmm, then again, this is moving pretty fast,” he said, pausing just before making contact with her center. Warm breath and the whisper of his stubbled cheeks brushed against the hypersensitive skin inside her thighs. “I vaguely remember you saying moving fast scared you.” One eyebrow lifted. He grinned. “Am I scaring you right now, Laurel?”

  She glanced down at him and his mischievous smile—one she wasn’t used to seeing on his typically staid face. Scared? The only thing that scared her was the idea of him not finishing what he’d started. Quickly, she shook her head.

  “And this—” He licked a long, slow line up her middle, rapid-firing all of her senses into one, big ball of mush. “Does this scare you?”

  Torture. This man is complete and utter torture!

  “No,” she said. “Please, just…” Finally, he brought his lips to where she wanted him, smearing that last word into several syllables as it became a moan of pleasure. He grabbed her backside, cupped her cheeks, dragged her closer, and even if she’d had her hand over her mouth, she would have never been able to stop the second moan.

  Laurel collapsed back onto her elbows, her head and neck craned against the wall beneath the cupboards. Had she ever been this vocal before? At this point, did it really matter? Her synapses were going all wonky, and she was pretty sure if he did that again she’d be incapable of remembering her own name—

  His tongue swirled and dipped and licked until she was thrashing around on the counter. Her legs extended over his shoulders, but because of her position, not able to stretch out or arch back, the coiled-up pressure just kept building and building until she thought her body would burst out and cave in at the same time.

  Then his finger slipped inside her. And another, penetrating to the very spot that made it impossible to breathe. Beneath the ricocheting beat of her heart in her ears and panting she couldn’t slow, the low-but-whispered words “Come for me, Laurel” caressed her. His lips covered her nub and sucked. “I want you to come on my tongue.” Fingers deeper, tongue lapping and zigzagging and— “I want to taste you in my mouth long after I go to bed.”

  She gasped, as if his words held the key and had just unlocked the ability to let go. The orgasm rocked her body, stole her breath, her mind and everything in between. It reached her fingertips, her toes…radiated all the way through each and every cell. Like she was floating, and would be for days.

  Panting, she closed her eyes, until the trembling of her legs and beating of her heart faded into his gentle, warm kisses working their way back up her middle.

  “That was the most beautiful sight I have ever seen.” Micah leaned over her splayed body, took her face in his hands, and kissed her. He tasted of him, and he tasted of her, and on any normal day the thought of this type of kiss would’ve had her worrying about the cleanliness of the situation or the appropriate way to decline, but the combination of the two—his and her essences—impelled such a passionate and uncontrollable force that left her feeling weak-willed and wildly courageous at the same time.

  She reached between them for the button on his jeans, but a hand clamped down over hers. “Don’t,” Micah said firmly, still with
his mouth lingering over hers. His brows pushed together, tiny crinkles creeping out from the corners of his eyes. He pinched his lips and inhaled a slow breath through his nose, almost as if there was some sort of war going on inside his head. “Tonight was your night.”

  Slowly, he returned her tank straps to their proper position then bent to retrieve the rest of her clothes. They landed in a pile on her lap, and then he turned and headed for his room.

  My night?

  Chapter Seven

  “Can you come?”

  He most certainly could, especially with the scent of his sexy little nanny lingering like a cloud around him, the glorious taste of her still on his tongue.

  Micah shifted under his down comforter when he heard the squeaky voice again.

  Wait. Squeaky?

  His eyes popped open just as Shae threw her tiny body on top of him, sprawling like Superman across his bed. “Daddy, please say you’ll come.” A waterfall of long hair showered over his face, and he pushed it back to reveal a wide, toothy grin. “Please, please, please.”

  Not that he could ever say no to his princess, but he at least had to find out—

  “Where is it you’re going?”

  “Laurel is taking me to the park again.”

  “Again?” He rubbed his face. “When did she take you before this?” He knew nothing of them going to the park. He’d told Laurel she didn’t need to check in with him every time they left the house, but the sudden thought of his baby girl vulnerable to whatever dangers lay in the open, and very public, park twisted his stomach into a ball of knots.

  “The other day,” Shae answered, squirming impatiently. “Will you come? Pretty please?”

  He grabbed his phone from the nightstand and glanced at the screen. No text from Russo. It didn’t mean he was off the hook for the whole day, but maybe he could steal an hour or two with Shae. The Alibi’s responsibilities could wait too. Surely he’d hear from his partner about the inventory and stocking that needed to be done, but his daughter was more important.