A Moment of Weakness

by Brooklyn Skye

  Laurel’s eyes twinkled. “You want to come over and show me then, hot shot?”

  Hot shot? She had no idea.

  “Gladly.” He marched from their makeshift pitcher’s mound—a small tub of pasta salad—to their makeshift home plate, which was a paper plate from their bag. “First of all,” he said, swooping around to her backside. “Your stance is all wrong.” He slid one leg between her thighs, using his foot and knee to spread them. That sight hurled the memory of last night and those gorgeous legs parting for him into his mind. It felt good to be back on familiar ground, seducing a woman instead of barfing up his feelings.

  The rubber soles of her shoes screeched along the grass but did nothing to cover up her slight intake of breath as his legs worked hers apart. He leaned in, his mouth just behind her ear and whispered, “Keep them like that—spread for…stability.”

  Letting his front graze along her back, he swung his arms around her and flattened his hands over hers. “Your grip should be lower. One hand on top of the other, not much space between.” Lightly, his fingertips ran up her wrists then arms, dipping into the delicate crook of her elbow. His finger swirled once, twice against her skin then from underneath he lifted her arms away from her body. “Elbows up and bent at a comfortable position.” His hands continued over her shoulders then down her back, making sure to graze the sides of her breasts with the pads of his fingers. He was teasing her, yes, but the feel of those breasts—even just barely—and the strangled moan that vibrated from her throat sent his blood flowing south. “And these,” he said lowly, gripping her hips with more force, “should fall into the same plane as the rest of your body.” With one, painfully slow caress, he brushed his palms from her neck to her thighs.

  He stepped around to face her, nodding with approval at the stance she held. A smile tugged at his lips, his hands momentarily satisfied by the fleeting contact of her skin on his. But too soon it left him aching for more. Eyes zeroed in on hers, he reached out and cradled her chin in his hand. “Keep this tucked toward your front shoulder to give you a good view of the pitcher and the ball.”

  Her gaze intensified. “I don’t think there’ll be a problem with that.”

  Slowly, he picked up the ball and made his way back to the pitcher’s mound.

  Chapter Eight

  “I just ate the fattest hamburger. Can you see my food baby?” April stood in the doorway to Micah’s apartment, patting her stomach with a crinkle in her nose. She shot Laurel a teasing smile. “I should just throw up, right?”

  Laurel laughed and threw herself at her best friend, not realizing until the moment she was in her arms, the scent of Michael Kors flooding her nose, how much she’d missed her.

  “No food baby. You look amazing, as always. I’m so glad you came over.” Laurel desperately needed to talk to someone about the mounting attraction that had been sparking between her and Micah—the way her body came alive when he was anywhere near her, the way—after their conversation at the park a few days ago—she worried for him when he left the house to “work.” But that wasn’t why she’d asked April to come over.

  “So dish,” April said, sliding her sunglasses atop her head. “How do you like the city? Met any cute guys while watching my niece? Ooh, any DILFs at the park?”

  A wave of heat flushed through Laurel’s body. Park? Only your brother…

  “What’s a DILF?”

  “Dad I’d like to fu—”

  Laurel slammed her hand over her friend’s mouth. “April! That niece is here and can likely hear you.”

  April flung herself onto the couch and rolled her eyes. “Right.”

  “Have you seen how small this place is?”

  April nodded. “Speaking of that… Where does my brother have you sleeping? And don’t tell me you’re sleeping in his room because that is just eww.”

  Laurel shook her head and patted the purple couch. “You’re sitting on it.”

  “He put you on the couch?” The utter horror in April’s expression made Laurel laugh. Her friend loved her expensive mattresses and high thread count sheets. The two of them were so different, yet those differences had never gotten in the way of them becoming so close.

  “The only other option,” Laurel explained, joining her friend on the couch, “would be to share a room with Shae, but, I don’t know, I guess your brother wasn’t comfortable with that. The couch isn’t so bad. It pulls out.”

  April grinned and nodded as if she completely understood, at the same time smoothing a piece of hair between her fingertips. “At least tell me he’s not being a total ass to you. Still a scary sex god?”

  Sex god? Most definitely. Scary? Maybe not so much—that was, if she didn’t count the fact that Micah’s job was illegal, and risky, and put him and his family in danger. She still didn’t know exactly what it was he did, but she had an idea it involved some sort of gang or crime family. The thought didn’t sit well with her, especially that first night after he’d told her. Lying in the dark in the middle of his living room, shadows and flickers of light creeping along the carpet. Would they—the people who had Micah under their thumb—come to his home? Break in?

  Quitting the job and leaving this part of the city had crossed her mind that night. She didn’t want anything to do with whoever Micah was working for. But then she’d thought of the little six-year-old living in the apartment too. If Laurel left, that would mean Shae would go back to spending her days, and nights, in The Alibi’s office. Her heart broke at the thought.

  As for being an ass…Micah’s temper had ebbed somewhat from when she’d first moved in. Like this morning, when she’d been getting Shae ready for school…

  Laurel’s fingers had quickly worked through Shae’s hair. Only five more minutes until they’d needed to leave for the bus stop.

  “You’re making me look bad,” Micah had said, his voice rough, though when she met his gaze in the mirror, there’d been something teasing about it.

  Laurel’s hand had frozen. “Bad?”

  He’d stepped closer and pointed to the inside-out braid she was almost finished with. “All these fancy hair designs? People at school know I’m a single dad.”

  “Well.” Laurel had grinned, partly because she was pleased with her creation, but mostly because he was giving her a compliment. “Maybe Mr. Single Dad took some hairstyling lessons.”

  His eyes had zeroed in on hers. “Or maybe…his daughter’s nanny showed him a few tricks.”

  Hot, it had suddenly become hot in there. Not to mention extremely cramped.

  “Yeah,” Laurel had said quietly. “I could do that—”

  A horn blared outside and Laurel blinked, April’s face shrinking into focus. “He’s warming up to me,” Laurel told her friend.

  April’s perfectly groomed eyebrow lifted. “I told you he would. Though I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting it to be after only a week. You must’ve made some impression on him.”

  Letting him strip her bare and pleasure her until she thrashed against him? Not exactly the impression she’d been hoping for. Nonetheless, trading that night for something more proper simply wasn’t in the books. Her mind was like a greedy troll, hoarding every detail of the memory.

  “He mentioned the other day,” Laurel said, tucking her feet beneath her legs, “that he doesn’t have a relationship with your dad anymore.” Laurel had never spoken with April about her father, but since Micah’s admission at the park—his father being the “rough one”—she wanted to know more.

  April nodded, understanding softening her expression. “When Shae came into his life, he made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t let his daughter be raised in the same environment we had.”

  “Which was…?” Laurel couldn’t imagine worse than what she’d first walked in to—a six-year-old being raised in a bar, witness to drugs and alcohol, and now a father who she knew beat the crap out of criminals for money.

  “A father who was a drunk,” April explained. “Who spent every do
llar he had and every waking moment fraternizing in a bar, getting in fights…”

  Sounded a lot like Micah. “Your brother kept Shae in a bar. And he drinks beer.”

  April shook her head. “Shae was only there because he had no other option. And sure he drinks, but have you noticed he never has more than two?”

  No, she hadn’t noticed that.

  There was the fighting, too, but Laurel told Micah she wouldn’t say anything about it, so she asked, “Your father’s still here in Boston then?” A strange part of her hoped he wasn’t. She didn’t want to think Micah had to deal with that too.

  “No, he took off upstate when I was fifteen. Micah was nineteen. I honestly don’t know where he is now.”

  Laurel scanned her friend, her well-put-together ensemble and lack of any sort of temper. “You don’t seem fazed by it all,” she mused, but as the words came out, the realization that April’s obsession for materialistic things may have stemmed from a childhood of having nothing. The fact that she didn’t want anything to do with kids likely a result of not growing up with a positive role model. Even a half-assed role model.

  “Compared to my brother?” April nodded. “Not that our childhoods were all that different, but my dad was really hard on Micah.”

  “How so?”

  “He was the oldest, and the only boy. My dad—asshole as he could be—would’ve never hit a girl. He wasn’t abusive in that way.”

  “But he hit Micah?” Laurel’s chest tightened. She hardly knew the man, but the thought of anyone going through that as a child shredded her insides.

  “Everything was Micah’s fault, if you get my drift.”

  It all made sense to Laurel—the closed-off way Micah was around her at times, the protective bubble he kept Shae in. He didn’t want to be the father he’d had.

  “Auntie April!” Shae screeched as she ran into the room. “Are you going to the movies with us?”

  April ruffled the top of Shae’s head. “What’re you seeing, monkey face?”

  “Queen’s Heart.”

  April looked discreetly at Laurel, her nose scrunched, and mouthed, “A kiddie movie?”

  Laurel shrugged. What would you expect? she said back with her eyes.

  “I’m afraid I have an appointment I can’t get out of, kid. But I’ll catch you on the flipside.”

  Shae’s shoulders hunched forward. “Okay.” She took Laurel’s hand. “Daddy said he has to work, but he wants to meet us there. He said to save a seat between us.”

  Between? That meant she’d have to spend an hour and a half in the dark, thinking about how close Micah’s hands were to her body.

  April nudged Laurel’s leg with her foot and grinned suspiciously. “Impression,” she sang quietly.

  Popcorn, Milk Duds, and sodas in hand, the three of them—Shae, Micah, with Laurel on the end—reclined into the theater seats. She was inches from Micah but could still smell him—the musky scent that drew up image after image of his face between her legs.

  Dear lord, this is going to be a long movie.

  Micah hadn’t had to work long—a quick errand he’d told her as he’d rushed out of his apartment earlier. By the time she and Shae were settling mid-theater in the row’s center, he’d shown up with a drink of his own in hand. Laurel hadn’t questioned the reddened welts strung across his knuckles aloud—she would never in front of Shae. She did, however, let him see her eyes lingering on them.

  “Let’s move to the edge,” had been his only response.

  “But the middle has a much better view,” Laurel protested once she was sitting at the end of the row, propping her popcorn on her knees.

  “It’s also the hardest to get out of when the row is filled with people,” Micah spouted back, his tone firm. “Which means longer to reach an exit should we need to.”

  Laurel craned her neck forward, trying not to stare at Micah’s enormously muscled arms, and smiled at Shae. “Next time we won’t bring you know who, and we’ll sit in the middle. Deal?”

  Shae nodded at the same time a large hand landed in Laurel’s popcorn. “No deal,” Micah said, pilfering a handful.

  She looked over at him, meeting the chocolate brown eyes staring at her and teased, “Because you realize I’m right and you’ve actually been enjoying these family outings and don’t want to miss another?”

  “Because…” He drew closer, flicking his gaze at her mouth and his tongue across his. A colony of ants suddenly came to life in her stomach, scrambling frantically with the thought of his lips on hers. That tongue in her mouth. Christ, am I ever going to be able to be near him and not think of my boss pleasuring me senseless? No, he wouldn’t kiss her here, in a theater surrounded with families and kids and his daughter. Clearly, however, he was relishing the warning of it. “Someone’s got to have street smarts in the group.”

  Laurel frowned playfully. “Are you implying I don’t?”

  Suddenly, he was in her face, his arm like a bar across her body to the other side of her seat. “Seeing that you hung your purse on the aisle side of your chair, with easy access to anyone walking up the stairway”—he unslung the strap from the back and tucked the purse beneath her feet, his face not moving an inch—“I’d say no.”

  “We’re in a theater full of kids,” she challenged back. “I doubt a princess-loving little kid is going to have their way with my belongings.”

  His eyes narrowed, and his lips moved closer to her ear. “Trust no one.”

  “I trust you,” she whispered, immediately growing hot in the face. Why had she said that? And why could she not think straight when his mouth was anywhere near hers? His body loomed over her, pinning her into the cushy theater chair. For a fleeting moment, she wondered what it would feel like to be under him, stretched out on a bed with his massive arms propped on either side of her—

  “I’m no longer a scary sex god?” he asked quietly with one of his rare and treasured smiles.

  What? How did he—?

  Hand flattened over his chest, she pushed him back and stared at him, horrified. “Your sister?”

  “April may be tenacious, but I’m still her big brother. And I can get anything out of her.” Just then the lights dimmed and the movie screen lit with the start of the previews.

  Anything? What else had her friend told him? Her lack of hookups in the last year? Lack of boyfriends too? Yeah, that wasn’t something she wanted him knowing about.

  Thoughts of Micah carried her through the first half of the movie. Seventeenth-century prince and princess. Joker sidekick. It was all very typical and allowed her mind to wander. If Micah knew it’d been a while since she’d been with anyone, what did he think after she’d given herself up so easily on his kitchen counter? Did he care at all?

  Toward the end of the movie, Micah leaned across the armrest and whispered into Laurel’s ear, “So the prince thinks he can win over the princess by proposing in front of the whole town? Seems a little cheesy, if you ask me.”

  “A town proposal is the ultimate way to win a lady’s heart. It’s romantic,” she said without thinking, then nudged his chest with her elbow and teased, “Besides, no one asked you.” His face hovered only inches from hers, lips in kissing distance should she incline to the side just a tad—

  Darn her overcharged mind.

  And darn his irresistibly sexy voice. It had her thinking dirty thoughts even while surrounded by packs of families and kids.

  He crept closer. The brush of his hair against her face, accompanied by the warm sweep of heat from his skin, ignited her nerve endings in a mouthwatering, I want to jump on top of you right here, right now way.

  Unexpectedly, his hand clutched around the opposite side of her head and turned her to face him. In the dim glow of the movie screen, his deep brown eyes looked murkier, almost black and predatory. It sent an actual shiver down her arms and legs.

  “The prince has it all wrong,” he said, his voice low and rough. “He doesn’t need to impress the princess by e
mbarrassing himself in front of the whole town.” Micah paused. Licked his lips. Darn those lips too! “He needs to do something to make her feel alive and worth living for.” His words and his breath… Was the room starting to spin?

  “Like what?” she squeaked out.

  “Take her someplace where the music is loud and the space is tight. Somewhere she can close her eyes and feel the beat of the music. Where he can put his hands here”—one massive hand landed on her hip. Fingers pressed into her backside. She sucked in a shaky breath—“and guide her body to move with his. To…” He edged closer, whispered in her ear, “rub against his.”

  She clamped her teeth over her lip, fighting the urge to press her mouth to his. With him this close, the scent of him had her heart pumping overtime. She inhaled slowly to suppress the compulsion and managed to say. “I doubt the seventeenth century had dance clubs.”

  “Well…they should’ve.” And then his face was gone, and he was back in his seat with his eyes on the movie screen.

  Holy mother of hot man in my face.

  By the end of the movie, Laurel had no idea what had happened to the prince and princess—surely they must’ve ended up together. Instead, the image of Micah’s hands on her hips, rubbing his body against hers kept her mind delectably occupied.

  “So…” Micah said as the three of them made their way to the ice cream shop in the next block from the theater, “you really think you can spend all day, five days a week, babysitting a classroom full of whiny kids?” Not exactly the conversation he was going for, but he was desperately trying to rid his mind of the image he’d painted for Laurel during the movie. Her slim body glistening with sweat, her hips swaying and circling against his…

  Yeah, talking about kids should do the trick.

  She laughed. “They’re not all whiny. Most, in fact, are better behaved at school than at home.”

  “They tell you that in teacher school?” he teased and slid his hand over her shoulder to guide her around the trio of forty-something guys approaching from the opposite direction. Dressed in business suits, they’d all three run their slimy gazes over Laurel, and the sight burned Micah’s chest. Jealous? No, he couldn’t have been. She was nothing but his temporary back scratcher. One he wanted to scratch all over his—