“Move in with me,” he whispered into her hair.
The oven buzzer rang out behind him.
Jenna didn’t say a word.
Chapter Ten
Jenna’s entire body, from her knees to the roots of her hair, was trembling, from both the orgasm and Micah’s follow-up sucker punch of a question.
Move in with him? As in pack up her apartment and show up on his doorstep with a U-Haul full of her mismatched dishware, heavy furniture and one brand-new, unopened shower curtain? As in leave-notes-on-the-fridge-for-each-other, clothes-mingling-in-the-hamper, pick-a-side-of-the-bed-we-now-share living together?
Her voice was shaking when she said, “I need to get the cookies out of the oven.”
“Jenna…”
“Hold that thought. Just…” She wiggled from his hold. Cookies first. Then she’d…well, she had no idea what would come after that, but it would be better with non-burnt cookies, no doubt. She fumbled for the oven mitts on the counter next to the stove and somehow managed to get them on without dropping them. “Gotta get the cookies.”
Too late. Hands shielded by a flimsy dishtowel, Micah dragged the cookie sheets out of the oven and laid them side by side on the stovetop. He balled the dishtowel up and tossed it next to the sink before turning to face her again. “Now can we talk?”
The kitchen filled with the familiar, comforting scent of fresh-baked homemade treats. If Jenna closed her eyes, she’d be back at home baking cookies with her mom, talking about boys and life and love. She could use her mom’s advice, because Jenna sure didn’t know what to do. She hadn’t planned on falling in love with a boy she’d only known a few days who was inviting her to move in with him after giving her a mind-blowing orgasm in his kitchen.
Okay, even in a fantasy talk-with-her-mom scenario, she should probably leave that last part out.
“Well, I guess I learned what makes you speechless.” Micah crossed the distance and picked up her hands, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles into her flesh.
“I should warn you, it doesn’t happen very often.”
“That’s okay. I like the things you say. I like the way you see the world. I love the sound of your voice.”
“You’re buttering me up.”
“Is it working?” He lifted their clasped hands so he could kiss the back of hers.
“Maybe.” She took a deep breath. The sweet cookie scent calmed her. They’d made those cookies together and they were having a great date and she was letting one little—okay, not little, more like potentially life-changing—statement interrupt their night. “Did you mean what you said?”
“I did, but I didn’t mean it to scare you.”
“I’m not scared.”
At his raised eyebrow, she repeated, “I’m not. I’m…overwhelmed.”
“Well let me underwhelm you then.”
“I don’t think that’s possible.”
Hand in hers, he led her over to the nook where he’d emptied his pockets and where she’d left her purse. Were they leaving again? Her stomach clenched at the thought that their date was ending before they could figure this out.
But Micah didn’t pick up his wallet, cell or keys. He tugged open the overhead storage cupboard and drew out a box, which he set on the desk. He dug through what appeared to be assorted house-related papers, bills, statements, etc. “A-ha!” Metal rattled as he pulled out a key ring and placed it in her hand.
“This is going to sound like a stupid question, but what are these? I mean, I know they’re keys, but…” She gave him a pleading, don’t-make-me-ask-the-question look. This was his script. She wasn’t ready to ad lib the lines.
He pinched one of the keys. “This one’s for the house.” He held up the next key. “This one’s for the roadster.” He went down the line, pointing out the keys to his truck, his gate, and other things she didn’t hear because her heart was beating too fast and the blood was rushing through her ears.
“Okay…” She licked her dry lips, wishing she’d taken him up earlier on that drink. A beer sounded pretty darn good right about now, and she didn’t even like beer.
“I’m not doing this very well, am I?” He rubbed a hand through his hair, making it stand on end, giving him that trademark, just-rolled-out-of-bed Dr. Dale Jameson look.
For some reason Jenna’s tension eased. That hint of vulnerability…that wasn’t Dr. Dale. He didn’t share that with the millions of viewers. That was pure Micah, her Micah.
And she loved him for it.
“Micah?”
“Hmm?”
“I don’t think you know the definition of underwhelm.”
He barked out a laugh. “Maybe not.”
“So while you’re completely not underwhelming me, how about you tell me what this…” she held up the keys, “…means?”
“It can mean whatever you want it to mean.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Shh.” He dropped a kiss on her lips. “Let me finish.”
She kissed him again, a bit longer this time, before he could get a word out. “Okay, continue.”
He shook his head at her, but he was smiling. “Those…” he gestured to the keys, “…they’re an all-access pass to my life. I want you to be able to borrow my car when Holly gives you fits. I want you to be able to come and go as you please…or you can come over with all your stuff and never leave. It’s up to you. So much of my life is spent in a world of make believe, where I say other people’s lines and live other people’s lives, and sometimes I forget who I am because of it. But this…you and me…this is real. I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, or next week, or next year. I don’t have a script for this, and it’s exhilarating and terrifying. But that doesn’t matter. I just…I want you, Jenna. In my life. I want to be with you.”
She kissed him then, because this time he’d been the one to use up all the words. This sweet, kind, overwhelming, beautiful man. She dropped the keys, needing both hands to cradle his face, to hold him to her as she kissed him deeper.
When she finally pulled away, she ducked to retrieve the keys off the floor and set them on top of her purse. She didn’t need them now. She was already here.
“How about we try those cookies, hmm?” she suggested.
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’ll grab drinks. I admit I’m a purist. Gotta have milk with my cookies.”
“A man after my own heart. Is there any other way?”
“How about cookies, milk and a view?”
“I’ve got a pretty good view from here.” She admired the way his gray slacks pulled tight over his perfect ass when he bent over to pull the milk from the fridge. Snatching a cookie, she took a nibble. Mmm, chocolate and Micah.
He turned around, catching her ogling and munching. She wiggled her fingers in a carefree wave before taking a bigger bite.
“You’re shameless.” His voice rumbled with barely restrained laughter.
“Yep,” she said around a mouthful of cookie.
“I’ll be putting the milk back in a second.”
“I know. And I’ll be watching the return trip.”
This time when he bent over the fridge, he made a big production out of it, swiveling his sexy posterior from side to side. Jenna couldn’t stop laughing. Would this be what living with him would be like? Silly kitchen antics followed by frantic fuckings across countertops and other furniture? Cooking together, eating together, loving together? What was the downside to that?
Okay, she wasn’t a fool. They wouldn’t be living in a bubble. Life wasn’t easy or perfect. But it had been a lot better this week with Micah in it.
Maybe she should say yes.
“While I realize you’ve been enjoying your view…” he wiggled his eyebrows as he sidled up next to her at the stove and set the full milk glasses next to the plate, “…I had another one in mind we both can enjoy.”
She reached a hand behind him and let her fingers do the viewing. “As long as you
r butt’s coming too, I can enjoy both.”
He slipped a hand beneath her skirt and palmed her ass—her bare ass, shoot, where had her panties ended up?—and gave it a light squeeze. His wandering fingers promised lots more where that came from, but he didn’t say a word. Or kiss her. Or do anything but wink, shove a cookie in his mouth, pick up the glasses and walk away.
“Tease,” she huffed, grabbing the plate of cookies and following him.
He bypassed a small breakfast nook and moved into a formal dining room, or at least what she imagined would be a formal dining room at some point. A heavy tarp protected what appeared to be a table and chairs. Dark wood paneling covered the bottom half of the wall, with the upper part painted pale amber in a nice contrast.
“Sorry about the mess,” Micah said. “I finished varnishing the wood this morning. Up next is refinishing the floor. This is going to be one of the nicest rooms in the house when I get through with it.”
“You did this all yourself? Micah, it’s gorgeous.”
“It will be. I still have to rehang this balcony door. It’s stuck closed.” He nodded to a French door near the corner. “And I need to repaint the ceiling.” He gestured with one of the glasses of milk toward a water stain in the far corner. “This was one of the original Hollywoodland houses, built in 1928. It was a bit of a rundown mess when I bought it a few years ago from a little old lady whose first husband was some movie-studio bigwig in the thirties and forties. C’mere, you gotta see the living room.”
He walked through the doorway into a room that took Jenna’s breath away. A majestic high ceiling coupled with an entire wall of glass—multi-light windows interspersed with French doors that allowed access to the view it offered—made the grand room feel even grander. An incredible carved black marble statuary fireplace was the centerpiece on the opposing wall. Antique furniture masked a high-end entertainment system, and art deco sconces placed around the room gave it an old-time, movie-theater-lobby feel. A large rug with a huge deco starburst added a cool turquoise and blue to the room, with small splashes of red and orange to give it zest.
“This room… It’s like stepping back in time to the glamour days. Cary Grant and Clark Gable should be sharing a drink next to the fireplace, with Lana Turner holding court outside.”
“They easily could have been guests of Mr. Bigwig back then, but I haven’t held any grand parties yet. When I finish with the house, you can help me throw one.”
Plate of cookies in hand, Jenna slowly spun in a circle, taking in the entire room and all the work that went into it. “Micah, this is amazing. Truly. I’ve never seen anything like it—outside of photos in old magazines, that is.”
“You haven’t even seen the view yet.” He stole another cookie, another kiss and another piece of her heart. “You’ll never want to leave.”
She already didn’t, but that was due to the man in front of her, not his undoubtedly gorgeous house.
Micah strode over to the French doors and opened them, letting in the cool night breeze. “1928. No air conditioning. I just open the windows and doors and listen to the wind through the trees.”
Jenna stepped out onto the balcony, her bare feet chilled against the stonework. Micah set the two glasses of milk on a small metal table next to a large plush lounge chair, which was big enough for two to recline—or intertwine—together comfortably. He took the plate of cookies from her and put them next to the milk, then tugged her hand and led her to the railing. “This is my favorite place. I come out here every night, to breathe, relax, unwind. When the weather’s nice, I sometimes sleep out here. The stars overhead and Hollywood down below. And over here…” He led her to the far corner of the balcony. Standing behind her, one arm around her waist, Micah pointed with his free hand. “Look over there. When the wind blows just right you can see through the trees…”
“Is that…?” Her breath caught on an inhale. “That’s the Hollywood sign. Wow, I didn’t realize it was so close.”
He lifted his head, gesturing off in the distance. “And then over there, the L.A. skyline.”
“It’s so beautiful from up here, all lit up. Looks majestic.”
“That’s Hollywood for you. Everything can be beautiful with the right lighting or seen from the right angle.”
They spent the next few minutes in comfortable silence, taking in the view.
“I can see why you love it out here,” she whispered, almost afraid to break the spell the night wove around them. “The broad star-filled sky above, covering us like a deep, rich blanket, and the lights of Los Angeles sparkling in the distance. It’s peaceful being able to step away from the world, yet still see it stretched out in front of you. It kind of centers you, makes you realize you’re a part of something so much bigger than yourself.” She shook her head, feeling silly at her poetic outburst. “Okay, enough philosophical ramblings from me. Time to shove a cookie in my mouth to keep me quiet.”
“I don’t want you to be quiet. Don’t stop talking. Don’t stop sharing your world with me.” He nuzzled his cheek against her hair, which had long since fallen out of the haphazard knot she’d tied it in when she baked the cookies. “I’ve spent too long not trusting my eyes because of the Hollywood distortion factor. But now…” he dipped his head and kissed her neck, “…I don’t know if you opened my eyes, or if I’m seeing with my heart instead. All I know is my view’s gotten a lot better, and I want to soak it all in.”
She closed her eyes. Not because she didn’t want to see the amazing view, but because she wanted to feel it. The cold stone under her feet, the slight roughness of the stucco railing beneath her arms, the wind caressing her face, Micah against her back, his strong arms around her waist, his love surrounding her, his lips leaving warm imprints on her shoulder.
His arms slipped from her waist, his hands lifting to where the straps of her dress were tied. Sure, dexterous fingers made quick work of the knot until the fabric ties were free, and he layered soft kisses where the material had dug into her flesh.
With the ties undone, the front of her dress gave way, and her hands came up automatically to shield her breasts. “Micah…? Can anyone see us up here?”
“No. I won’t let anyone else see you like this.” His arms came around her again, hands replacing hers on her breasts, thumbs stroking her nipples, which had pebbled in the cool breeze.
She shivered from the combined onslaught of his sensual caresses and the nighttime air on her bare flesh.
“Cold?” he asked, fingers moving in slow circles, tightening just the slightest bit around her areolas.
“Mmm…a little. I like the way you touch me though. Don’t want you to stop.”
“We have all night. I don’t plan on stopping.”
All of Los Angeles stretched before her, millions of people represented by the lights on the horizon, and the only one who mattered stood behind her, touching her, making her yearn, making her feel like the most important person in that sea of lights and people.
“I need to see you.” Jenna turned around, the city at her back, Micah becoming her entire world.
By the look in his eyes, she wasn’t the only one feeling that way. He’d stepped back, just out of arm’s reach, taking her in.
His breath whistled out on a long exhale. “You’re so damn beautiful, Jenna.”
Her dress had gathered at her waist, and it was easy enough to slip her thumbs into the fabric and wiggle it down her body to pool at her feet. A simple action which created a response that was anything but.
Micah’s stare touched her like a physical caress, stroking over her from head to toe, so strong her pussy reacted in kind, clenching around the fingers and cock she wished were inside her now.
“I need to touch you,” he said, voice harsh and raw.
“I need you to touch me.”
They came together in a crush of flesh to fabric, Micah’s hands in her hair, holding her face upraised for his bruising kiss. She pushed harder against his lips, wanting to fe
el him there even when he wasn’t, wanting the ache of memory to play there after tonight ended.
She fumbled with his belt, button, zipper, and soon his pants and briefs joined her dress on the concrete. They managed to stop kissing long enough to tug his shirt over his head, their mouths and bodies reuniting once all their clothing had been removed.
Jenna sighed when all his hot, hot flesh was finally pressed to hers, his cock hard and ready against her stomach. There was something to be said for nudity as a lifestyle. It wasn’t something she’d ever considered embracing until Micah, but anything that kept him and her seamed together naked like this could only be good.
They moved together across the balcony until the lounge chair nudged the back of her legs. She pulled from his lips to shift backward onto the plush padding. He followed her, muscular arms flexing as he crawled up the chair to hold himself over her.
Even in the dark she could lose herself in his eyes, the way he looked at her, all his emotion and desire and heat consuming her.
“Jenna, I want you now. No, I need you now.”
“I’m yours.”
His fingers traced over her temple, down her cheek, but he never broke their stare, gazes locked the way their bodies wanted to be. He was inside her soul before he was inside her pussy, pushing into her slowly, finding where they both needed him to be.
The sweetest contentment, that moment of being stretched and filled and completed, so much sweeter with eyes wide open watching Micah, seeing that same pleasure and recognition wash over his face like silver moonlight.
Seeing that pleasure shift to worry and regret. “Shit.” He shook his head. “I fucking did it again.”
She knew what it was before he had to define it. “No condom,” she whispered, eyes falling closed for half a heartbeat. A part of her fiercely wished he hadn’t noticed, that he wasn’t already pulling out.
Starstruck: Hollywood Heat, Book 3 Page 10