Mica (Rebel Wayfarers MC) (25 page)

“Mica,” this came out as a groan through his teeth, “say something, beautiful.” She stepped back from him, breaking the chest to knee contact that had felt so right and natural. His cock was turgid and swollen, pushing against his jeans, arching towards her body like it had a mind of its own.

She laid one hand against his heaving chest. “Daniel, I want you too, but there are things you need to know. I want to talk and have an understanding before anything happens between us. I have issues and a past you deserve to know about beforehand.” She gave him a little smile, licking her lips nervously. “Why don’t we start with dinner? I’ll go order.” And with that, she turned and was gone, stepping from the bedroom, into the suite, moving away from him.

Standing alone in his bedroom, he was stunned into silence. Hanging his head, he shook it back and forth trying to figure out what had just happened. Frustrated with himself, he couldn’t even remember exactly what he had said to her, but clearly, it was too much, too soon. She must not feel anything close to the same.

God…how had he cocked this up so badly and so fast? She felt so right.
They
felt so right to him, but it sounded like she was poised to run. He’d have to convince her the potential between them was worth the emotional risk. Daniel closed his eyes; he could still smell her against his skin. His cock twitched in response, and he looked around the empty room.

Stripping his clothes off roughly, he threw them angrily on top of his bag, wishing he had something more substantial to throw. Striding into the bathroom, he turned the shower on and looked at himself in the mirror as the water heated up. “Stupid, goddamn asshole,” he muttered and turned away. He stilled for a moment, remembering out loud with an indrawn breath, “She said she wanted you.” Stepping into the shower, he quickly and efficiently washed himself. After drying off, he dressed in jeans and a tight t-shirt.

The hot shower had felt good on his back, and it helped melt his anxiousness away. Now, he was starving, and hoped it wouldn’t be too long before room service showed up. While showering, he thought he’d smelled something good, but knew there was no way the food had arrived that quickly. After using it on his hair again, he threw the used towel down. Then, grinning for a second at the lessons we take with us throughout our lives, he picked it up off the floor and tossed it over the bar. He remembered his mother yelling at him often about throwing wet towels onto the bathroom floor, and tipped an imaginary hat at this private homage to her.

Still grinning, he walked into the living area of the suite, and looked at the kitchen in surprise. Mica had a couple of pans on the stovetop, and what looked suspiciously like nice-sized steaks on the grill surface. Walking closer to peer into the pans she was tending, he saw she was scrambling eggs and steaming some broccoli—exactly what he wanted for dinner.

Sniffing appreciatively, he snaked an arm around her waist, rubbing his cheek against the side of her neck before letting her go with a smile. “This smells wonderful. Need any help?” He looked around, and without waiting for a response, said, “I’ll set the places for us.” Pulling plates and silverware from the cabinets and drawers, he made quick work setting up for the meal, even finding steak knives in a case in the back of a drawer.

“Wine or water?” she asked, holding up bottles of water in one hand, and two mini-bottles of wine in the other, her dark hair framing her round, smiling face.

“Thank you, I’ll have this wonderful vintage of spring water tonight,” he joked as he took one of the bottles from her. She turned to put the wine back into the refrigerator, opening the other bottle of water as she bumped the door closed with her hip.

“Well, we are an exciting pair, aren’t we?” she teased, turning back to the cooking food.

He spoke in a low, intense voice, putting as much of his desire as he could into his words, “I find you very exciting, Mica.” He was rewarded with a soft gasp from her. Nodding his head in satisfaction, he was glad to find he had the ability to affect her as deeply as she did him. God, he was half-hard all the time with her, constantly conscious of her luscious curves and graceful movements.

Plating the steaks, she set the pans with the eggs and vegetables between them on the table. “Dinner is served, sir.” Giggling, she slipped into the chair opposite him, and took a big spoonful of eggs to place on her plate. He made quick work of serving himself, reaching into the pan to take the last floret of broccoli with his fingertips, dropping it into his mouth, and then licking the butter off his fingers. He heard a gasp and looked up to see Mica staring at him.

Holding her gaze, he spent a long time suggestively licking the tip of each finger, and then sliding them in and out of his mouth provocatively. Delightedly, he saw a blush creep up her neck to her cheeks. He dropped his hand to his lap, shifting himself unobtrusively, and smiling as he wiped his fingers on his napkin.

“This is really good,” he said, taking a bite of the steak. They ate in silence for a few minutes, and then he said, “I didn’t know they kept steaks in the refrigerator. That was handy.”

She grinned at him. “They don’t. I called Samuel earlier and asked him what you would want for dinner. He brought up a few packages of steak, the eggs and veggies…and some ice cream. I’m sure there’s a story there about the ice cream, and I want to hear it for sure.”

He ducked his head, smiling. “I like ice cream.” Spreading his hands wide, he added, “What can I say? It’s frozen goodness.” She grinned at him again, and he asked eagerly, “What kind did he get?”

Laughing, she got up and went to the freezer, pulling out two containers. “Rocky Road and plain, old vanilla. He said they’re your favorites.”

He nodded his head enthusiastically. “They are, but you are mistaken. While Rocky Road is special, and has a bold mix of flavors that are to be savored, that ‘plain, old vanilla’, as you call it, is a gourmet feast of the senses. I bet if you look closer, you’ll see it’s not just vanilla; it’s Vanilla Bean. Being Vanilla Bean elevates that container of frozen delight to an entirely new level of deliciousness.”

Looking more closely, she nodded. “You’re right. Vanilla Bean, my apologies, but what makes it better than vanilla?”

Smiling playfully, he responded, “Vanilla ice cream is just vanilla-
flavored
frozen milk and sugar—not much different from the ice cream we made with fresh fallen snow growing up. Vanilla Bean, on the other hand, includes the actual vanilla pod and seeds, which are cooked into the milk and sugar, leaving behind a bit of itself with every second it is in contact with the cream. The flavor is much more intense, more concentrated, and oh-so-much better.”

Taking the last bite of his steak and eggs, he picked up both of their plates and carried them over to the sink, filling it with soapy water. Mica was reading the label on the ice cream container, and only realized what he was doing when he grabbed the pans; he already had the plates and silverware clean and drying in the dish drainer beside the sink.

“Daniel, let me do that; I wasn’t paying attention,” she protested, pushing him sideways and away from the sink with a surprising twist of her hip. He grinned and bumped her hip back, laughing.

“Did you ever do that at a dance?” he asked, bumping her hip again. Grasping his meaning, she bent her knees and bumped him back in a rhythm they both maintained. “Oh, yeah,
The Bump
was a big favorite at the barn dances back home.”

Leaving the pans soaking in the water, he took her hands into his and stepped them out of the kitchen, keeping their hips side-by-side and bumping across the floor. They were both laughing, bending and twisting to bump down low and back up again, moving to music only they could hear, dancing in sync with each other.

Daniel took a step to the side and felt his back spasm, stiffening so that her next hip bump was full frontal on him and she gasped, stopping her swaying movements. “Sorry,” he gritted out, “pulled my back in practice.”

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” Frowning at him, her brows furrowed, and the skin around her mouth tightened. “Do you need to sit down?”

He nodded. “Actually, I probably should stretch it out a little. I’ll be back for another dance in a few, yeah?”

“Sure, Daniel,” she smiled politely, “take your time.” She moved quickly back towards the sink, and he watched her from the corner of his eye as he tried not to limp into the bedroom. She had retreated so fast, putting up her walls quickly, and he was frowning from more than physical pain.

Lying down on top of the comforter in his clothes, he rolled onto his back, twisting and stretching. He unbuckled his belt and dragged it out of his jeans, wincing as it pulled past the sore muscles in his back. Rolling onto his side, he pulled his knees up on the bed, rounding his back to see if that was better than stretching out straight.

Man, it seemed like nothing was going to make this ease up, and he was ready to hit the hot shower again. Breathing deliberately, knowing that holding his breath only made the pain worse, he rocked up onto the side of the bed to stand, putting his feet gingerly on the floor as Mica came into the room.

She must have seen the pained look twisting his face, because she rushed across the room to put a shoulder under his arm. Despite the pain, that made him laugh, thinking about Mica holding him up like that. “Where are you headed, Daniel?” He pointed to the bathroom, thinking that would scare her off, but she simply said, “Okay,” and stepped them across the room to where he pointed. In front of the shower, she moved away from him to grab a towel, and then into the tiled enclosure to get the water going, adjusting the water to steaming hot.

She turned back around to face him, and nodding her head firmly at some internal dialog and muttering, “right”, Mica took the back edge of his t-shirt in her hands, pulling it up until he could slip the collar over his head. She then dragged the shirt down his arms without him having to lift them over his head. As she tossed the shirt back into the bedroom, he unfastened his jeans, let them sag a bit, and then dismissed her. “Thanks, Mica. I’m good.”

Shaking her head, she reached out and turned him to face the mirror. His hands reached out for the countertop as she knelt and tugged his shoes and socks off, tossing them aside so he didn’t trip on them. Then, pulling at his waistband, she skimmed his pants and boxer briefs to his ankles in silence. She carefully pulled them off one leg at a time as he used the counter and wall for balance. He was excruciatingly aware of his erection, knowing it was within inches of her face, and if she looked up, she would see how much he wanted her. Staring into the mirror straight in front of him, he said more urgently than before, “Mica. Stop. I’m good from here. I’ve got it.”

She stood up with his pants and underwear in her hands, calmly folding them over her arms. She nodded at his reflection in the mirror, walking out of the bathroom without speaking. He took in a deep breath, chewing on the inside of his lip, trying to maintain some semblance of control. Swallowing hard, he turned to the shower and stepped in, finding it hotter than he generally liked it, but knowing the moist heat would help loosen the spasms in his muscles.

Leaning one forearm against the stall wall, he let his head hang forward until it was tucked into his elbow. Bending his other arm down at an angle against the wall, he held himself out slightly; he didn’t like the cold touch of the wall against his chest or belly. He felt a chill on his buttocks and back, and shifted a little further under the water, seeking out the heat that was only now beginning to unravel the pain in his back. When he felt the first tentative touch of hands on his back, he jerked and whipped his head around. Gritting his teeth against the resulting wave of pain, he blew his breath out explosively with, “Mica.”

She was standing behind him in the large shower, her hair hanging straight down her back, with her feet confidently shoulder-width apart, and—oh, God—she was completely nude. She was standing close and touching him with her delicate, but strong hands firmly on his lower back. She stared up into his face, and her eyes were once again lit from within; they were green as polished sea glass, beaming from her face. He had seen her body before, but this was different, because she was touching him.

Taking a breath and offering a small smile, she urged him, “Relax, Daniel, just relax. Let the shower do its work,” pushing at his shoulder to turn his upper body away from her again. Reluctantly, he rested his forearm on the wall, realizing the tiles were quite a bit warmer than before. He tucked his head into the crook of his elbow again, relaxing into the stance, with the water beating down on his shoulders and back. Her voice filtered through the background noise in the shower. “I’ve had some experience with back injuries, just strains and pulls and whatnot. Let me see if I can help.”

Her hands had never left his body, staying still on his back for several long minutes. He imagined her hair soaking up the steam from the air, curling around her face, droplets gathering on her lashes, and water cascading between her breasts. Thinking about the glistening drops of water hanging from her erect nipples, and dampened curls between her legs wet with more than just water, he groaned silently, wanting to touch himself to relieve the pain of the constant erection he’d had since he got back from practice. He dropped one hand down to rub his thigh and casually adjusted himself, passing the skin of his wrist along the length of his hard-on before putting his arm back against the wall.
God that made it worse.