A Moment of Weakness

by Brooklyn Skye

  “Great,” she spouted. “I’ll get the drinks.”

  In the kitchen, she tucked a bottle of white wine under her arm and grabbed the corkscrew along with two glasses then headed to the purple couch. Sitting directly in the middle with his legs planted in front of him, Micah watched as she set the wine and glasses on the small end table, uncorked the bottle, and poured.

  The couch wasn’t huge, but there was room on either side of him. She handed him a glass, stole a bottomless breath of confidence, and instead climbed on top of him, straddling her legs on the sides of his. Jeans on jeans, though her body suddenly ignited. “This okay?” she asked in the most seductive tone she could muster. Inside she laughed. Since when had she become a seductress?

  That answer was easy. Since she’d known what it was like to kiss Micah. To feel his hands, his lips, his tongue on her. In her.

  The buzzing of her insides kicked into overdrive when he stilled for a moment, that intense, stony gaze devouring her. Assessing her. Then, slowly, his hand ran up her leg and rested at the curve of her waist, and he smiled.

  He.

  Smiled.

  And it was beautiful and breathtaking, and every cell in her body wished he would do that more often.

  Then he lifted a brow. “I don’t know any guy who would turn down a gorgeous girl on his lap.” He took a swig of his wine then set the glass on the table. “Is that all you plan to do?” Beneath the swoop of brown hair across his forehead, his eyes pierced her with a wolf-like intensity.

  That look…it filled and deflated her at the same time. She wanted him, wanted to explore this dangerous, daring feeling that consumed her when she was near him. But the more conscientious side of her brain wondered if and when Micah was going to come to his senses and let her go, because this wasn’t what he’d hired her for.

  “Only if you want it to be,” she said anyway, running a hand up his arm and under the sleeve of his shirt. Her fingertips bumped over the definition in his arm—the swell of his muscles and divots in between. “I am technically your employee, you know.”

  “You also live in my apartment. Sort of a fine line if you ask me.” He took the glass out of her hand and joined it with his. Then he waited.

  “I apologize for bringing up your job tonight.” It wasn’t something she’d planned on saying. But sitting there, face to face with him and feeling the openness blossoming between them, it’d just sort of slipped out. The beat of her heart at the base of her throat shook her voice when she added, “I just—”

  “You feel sorry for me.” His hands twitched at her sides—the only sign of his irritation.

  Quickly, she shook her head. “Not sorry…” How did she explain it without sounding too maternal? Without telling him she simply wanted to make him forget about all that for a moment? “I talked to April the other day,” she said, smoothing her finger over the crease growing across his forehead. “Not about your work, but she told me about your father. The way you two were raised. And I get that you had a difficult childhood, but that childhood—and those struggles you went through—made you who you are.” Curling in her fingers, she traced a line across the angles of his jaw with the backs of her knuckles. “And…I don’t know, I like the way you are.”

  He reached up and touched the gold chain around her neck. “Even though I’m big and scary?” The teasing air to his words didn’t match the intensity of his gaze, and the contradiction between the two knocked her head into a bobbling wave for a splinter of a second.

  She pulled her other hand out from his sleeve and ran it down his chest. Lower and lower until it was hovering over the button of his jeans. “Not all of you is scary.”

  Quietly they stared at each other, until she slowly dipped her head and without waiting for permission pressed a long kiss to his lips. She placed soft kisses all over his mouth until the kisses became longer and more intense. His tongue eventually parted her lips, and the taste of sweet wine blasted her senses, the teasing vanishing along with her mind.

  His hands started to move over her body—up her back, around her waist, cupping her breasts, one and then the other. The kiss grew into a charged detonation that, along with the searching of his tongue in her mouth and hands that wouldn’t sit still on her body, had her wondering if she’d ever be able to find her breath.

  Tightening his arms around her, he stood, and without breaking the kiss, walked them down the hallway and into his bedroom. The door shut. He nibbled her lip and lowered to the edge of his bed, straddling her legs over his middle in the same position they were in before.

  She planted her hands on his shoulders and pushed back, stealing a moment to look around his room.

  Micah pinched the tip of her chin between his fingers and tipped her face so she was looking directly at him. “This is my room,” he said, his jaw set, but not with anger. “And I’ll only give you five seconds to take it in before I put my mouth back on yours.”

  She giggled. “Are you trying to be scary now?” But her eyes were already skipping over the room. Gray walls, a dresser, TV, and several pictures of Shae, nothing that gave her anything more than what she previously knew—

  Lips crashed into hers, Micah’s hand secured around her head, and then they were kissing. Fast. And hard. And oh my gosh I can’t breathe again.

  Breathless, she broke the kiss and slid off his legs. To the floor. On her knees. Directly in front of him. His brown eyes locked with hers—narrowed and penetrating. Christ, had she ever felt this vulnerable and powerful at the same time?

  In her gut, she knew the answer was no. She’d never been with a man who gave her the commanding ability to unabashedly pop the button on his jeans and slide down the zipper.

  A low growl echoed from Micah’s chest as she freed his erection from the material and ran her tongue in a long, slow line from the top to the bottom.

  “Oh, fuck, Laurel.” He reached for her, but she intercepted, tucking his hands beneath the sides of his legs.

  “No touching.” A devilish smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “Can you do that, Micah Crane? Not be the big, tough, scary guy running the show?” Another swipe of her tongue on him, and he slammed his head back in response.

  He grit out through his teeth, “Didn’t you just say I wasn’t scary?”

  She wrapped her hand at the base of his erection and perched just above the head, her breath whispering against his skin. “Not all of you. Besides, you don’t have me fooled. I know there’s a heart of gold somewhere in you.” And then she swallowed his cock into her mouth.

  He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t talk. And because of this little seductress of his, he couldn’t fucking touch her either.

  Shit, not that he was complaining. A hot blonde sliding her lips up and down him? Licking and sucking to send tiny ripples of pleasure throughout his entire core?

  Had he died and gone to fucking heaven?

  No, he hadn’t. Because when she slid her lips to the head of his cock and hummed lowly, a spine-tingling tremor rocked his body clear down to his toes. Still pinned beneath his legs, his hands itched to wrap around her head, guide her to repeat that move over and over again until he exploded.

  He wanted to drown in the feel of her. Bury himself in her sweet-tasting pussy. Lie with her on top of him, riding his cock into goddamn oblivion—

  Vibrations paralyzed his thoughts, his every muscle, and the sound of Laurel humming became his new favorite sound. He threw back his head and closed his eyes, clenching his entire body against the warm fingers now cupping and cradling and handling his balls.

  “Jesus, Laurel. Who the hell taught you to do this?”

  A giggle and a tiny nip to his inner thigh was all he got in response. And then her mouth was back on him, moving up and down, sucking hard and then soft, until he felt the pressure build from deep in his core.

  He lifted his leg to remove his hand and no sooner did hers slam down on top of it. “One rule, Micah. Did you forget it so soon?” Her tongue lapped u
p his shaft, and he drew in a shallow breath then narrowed his stare on hers.

  “I’m going to come if you keep doing that.”

  Glassy and blown to the edges, her eyes searched his. “Isn’t that the point?” Before he could respond, her lips circled him and sank clear down to the base. She withdrew in a painfully long stroke then repeated.

  And repeated.

  And repeated.

  “Okay,” he grit out, tightening to withstand—and slow—the soul-crushing force about to explode from him. “You don’t need to—”

  “Stop talking, Micah…” Her tongue flicked his head, and that devilish smile returned. One hand gripped his balls, the other the base of his dick, and she said, “And come in my mouth.”

  Well, shit, if that wasn’t the hottest thing he’d ever heard a woman say. But was she sure? She didn’t really seem like the type—

  The humming started again, high-pitched and right at the head. Damn to all hell the stereotypes of this woman—obviously she had a wilder side than she’d let on. The thought of finding it, of discovering what else she could do with that amazing body, sent dirty, porn-like images flashing through his head until he couldn’t resist the pressure anymore.

  He groaned, and release came, and when he finally opened his eyes, Laurel was licking her glistening lips. Damn, she was beautiful with her long hair draped in waves over her shoulders and ocean-blue eyes heavy-lidded and sated. She pursed her lips into a sexy smile and started to stand.

  But Micah wasn’t done. He wanted more of her. “Come here,” he said, quickly dislodging his hands and wrapping them around her head. He leaned closer, his mouth poised over hers when she reared back with a crinkled brow and cleared her throat.

  “Isn’t it general rule that guys don’t kiss after…um…that.”

  Inside, he smiled. So he was right. The seductress act was purely that—an act. “Only guys who have zero respect for women don’t.” He closed the space and took her mouth completely, stroking his tongue against her lips until they parted.

  The kiss was slow. Gentle. And like something two people in love would share. The thought snapped against his brain like a live wire, jolting him away from her.

  No, there weren’t any feelings involved here. Laurel was just a girl he could conveniently get his hands on.

  “You never answered my question,” he said in an attempt to cover up the way he’d torn away from her so quickly. He slid his thumb in a soft line across her mouth. “Your technique…is that something you read in a magazine?”

  Her eyes glinted. “No magazine.”

  He cocked his head, nodding away the word his brain threw at him: experience. “A friend, then?”

  Not jealous, he told himself, if her experience had been how she’d gotten those skills. Just curiosity.

  Unexpectedly, Laurel wrapped her mouth around his thumb and sucked it from bottom to top. Then she grinned and answered, “Yep. Your sister.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Stripper poles and a Fireball waterfall.”

  Micah blinked, the memory of Laurel’s lips wrapped around him disappearing faster than he could say, “What the hell?”

  Ryan laughed and sucker-punched his shoulder. “Seriously? I’ve been talking to you for a good five minutes, and all I’ve gotten is a weak nod from you and an even weaker ‘Mmm-hmm’.”

  Because he hadn’t wanted to let that memory of Laurel go. And, damn it, he just had.

  Micah leaned back in his desk chair and ran his hand through his hair. At least his lower half was hidden behind the desk. “You can’t put a fucking stripper pole in here.”

  The flyer from Ryan’s hand fluttered to the desktop in front of him. “Don’t worry, we’re keeping The Experience as classy as The Alibi. Midori Sours and Lemon Drop shots to bring in the ladies, dollar beers for the guys, and the best DJ in town. You should tell that cute little nanny of yours. I’m sure she’s looking to meet someone to take away her innocence for a night.” He smiled wryly. “A little bump-and-grind action? Top it off with a one-night—”

  “Shut the hell up, Ryan.” Micah shoved out of his chair and forced an uncaring smile—one that warred against the hot rush pulsing in his chest.

  “Ha!” Ryan’s hand whacked the wooden desk, the sound echoing in the tiny office. “I knew it.”

  Micah scowled. “Knew what?”

  “That you like her. The nanny.”

  “Of course I like her. I hired her to watch over my daughter.”

  Ryan shook his head. “I mean you have the hots for her. You like-like her. You have a crush on her.”

  “And did we suddenly become twelve again?” Micah folded his arms over his front side, the piercing heat spreading to his neck and shoulders. “Grown men don’t get crushes. And they definitely don’t like-like people.”

  “Call it what you want, but I saw it last night. You smiled at her. And you don’t ever fucking smile.” He shrugged and picked up the flyer. “It’s no big deal, man. A relationship with a nanny? It might do wonders to wipe some of the asshole off you.” The teasing manner to the words had Micah’s fists clenching hard, but Ryan—being the dick he was—didn’t stop there. He faced Micah and rattled the piece of paper. “I’d say it’s working already. You do realize you’ve been here for four hours and have yet to slam a door? Whatever you’re feeling for her…” He winked then chuckled. “Keep it up. Less tension bottled inside my partner makes for a much easier day in the office.”

  Micah stiffened. Feeling for her? There weren’t any feelings involved in his little escapades with Laurel. Were there?

  A couple nights to let shit go… That was all they’d had.

  Ryan added, “In fact, maybe you should tell her.”

  Yeah, that was enough; he didn’t have to sit around and take this shit from his partner. “Nice theory, jackass,” he spat out and headed for the door. “But I think all that hair on your face is messing with your ability to think straight.”

  Ryan laughed. “You call it a beard. I call it awesomeness escaping through my face. Potato, po-tah-to.”

  The door slammed and Ryan’s annoying-as-hell chuckle faded into the distance. Outside, Micah dialed his phone. He’d show Ryan exactly what kind of feelings he’d been having for his little nanny.

  “What about Shae? Who’s going to watch her?” Laurel tilted her chin to better see Micah. Not that he was dressed any differently than he normally was with jeans and a T-shirt, but the way that black shirt clung to the rippled muscles beneath had her hands itching to run across his chest. Over his tattooed arm and down to his—

  You really need to stop fantasizing about your boss.

  If only she had a dollar for every time her common sense had to remind her of that over the last few days.

  Micah stepped closer, the scent of his cologne momentarily dizzying her. “Mrs. Briggs, the old lady next door, is going to watch her.”

  “Old lady?”

  Micah narrowed his eyes on her, the intensity of his gaze feeling like fire on her skin. Jesus, why did he do that to her? “She’s not that old. Maybe sixty-five.” His eyes looked her over. “Are you going to wear that or do you want time to change?”

  A dance club. He was taking her to The Experience. She scanned her outfit: yoga pants and a tank with a cardigan. Unquestionably not appropriate for dancing.

  She scrunched her nose. “Give me a few minutes to find something else?”

  Twenty-five minutes later Laurel emerged from Micah’s tiny apartment bathroom. She tugged the waist of her flowy cotton shorts higher and looked down at her simple tan wedges, thankful she’d packed at least one pair of heels. April was probably going to have a cow at the outfit Laurel had thrown together—diva as she was—but at least she couldn’t say Laurel was being too modest with her choices. She’d made sure of that by folding over the elastic waist of the shorts to show off as much leg as possible.

  Was it too much, seeing that she was going to the club with her boss?

&nb
sp; Ha, not after the blowjob you gave him.

  A low, drawn-out whistle filled the kitchen as she entered, a half-empty beer bottle perched at Micah’s lips. Lips she suddenly couldn’t take her eyes off. He smiled. “You look amazing.”

  Heat flushed over her entire body. “Thanks. I didn’t exactly pack for a night at the club.”

  His gaze lingered on the crocheted hem of her flowery shorts. Was he a leg man? Did she even care if he was? She would’ve been lying to herself if she’d said no. Of course she cared. What else would explain the way her insides became jitterbugs when he was near? Why she’d mentally given herself a high five when she’d found out she would be spending the evening with him, sans his daughter. This was one night she could let loose, and she was not going to let it slip by her. She held up her small, plastic bra-strap clip. “Would you mind helping me? I can’t ever get these on myself.”

  A wrinkle formed across his forehead. “You wear letter openers?”

  She laughed and stepped closer to him. “It pulls my bra straps together so they won’t show with this racer-back style tank.” She smiled, remembering the first time April had introduced her to these nifty little devices.

  God, April had said, your bra straps stand out like ugly stretch marks. Come over here. It had been their first week together as roommates. Quite the shellshock going from friends at school with April to living with her day in and day out. On the surface her best friend was blunt and irked by anything not at her speed. But Laurel had known her long enough to realize there was much more beneath April’s shell than she let people see.

  Micah’s warm fingers slipping under the fabric on her shoulders drew her back to the kitchen. “How does this work exactly?” he said, at the same time caressing between her shoulder blades. Her skin suddenly felt like the victim of a cactus—all prickly and stinging, but penetrating to every single cell. Her body called to his. As if he knew she’d suddenly become putty in his hands, he dipped his thumb under one of the straps and ran it over her shoulder, causing the lacey material covering her breast to sag. Then his mouth was at her ear, his hard body pressed up against her backside. “Does it go like this?”