Page 11 of One Rule
Anything he wants. Anytime.
Jesus Christ, Liliana. Get it together. A chastisement a little too late as I struggle to meet his gaze, one that penetrates every wall I try to erect in his name. Instead, I’m left with no choice but to stand and walk out of the room with my coffee mug in hand, pretending to need another fix. I’m not running away per se, but trying and failing to create distance between us so I can think clearly. But instead of letting me shake off his hold, I’m followed by his heavy-set footsteps into our private mini kitchen.
He's never more than a few steps from me. His six-foot-four frame dwarfs mine.
“That sounds like a dare, rebel.” Amusement drips from his tone and against my better judgment, I look up, losing myself in his azure eyes. There’s mirth there, but even headier is this hint of dark promise that I don’t quite understand.Has to be the lighting. Second time today.“Are you challenging your boss?”
And if I was? What would you do about it?The retort sits on the tip of my tongue, which I bite back, along with the threat of my thighs clenching. Instead, I shrug and pretend this is all a joke. Messing around with a good friend while a grin that matches his tugs at my lips. “Not a threat. More like a warning.”
“Is that so? Should I be afraid, Liliana?”
“Positively terrified.” And to add to my dramatics, I snap my teeth at him before placing a new pod in the coffee machine. I’m on autopilot at this point, just like breathing, but the racing of my heart tells a different story. As does the small shake in my hands; I pretend they’re cold and rub my palms together to complete the act. “I’m not cut out for the secretary life, Micah. Will do just about anything to avoid being your gopher.”
He's not offended in the least. If anything, Micah’s holding back a laugh. “I’m not that bad, rebel.”
“Says you.” While the machine percolates, I move to the sink and rinse my mug before starting my ritual. I’m not one for over-the-top coffee drinks, but there are two staples I can’t do without, my sweet cold foam and my hazelnut creamer. Grabbing the ingredients for both while trying my best to ignore his body heat—how close to me he stands—I grab a second mug for him. Each of the ones here has a matching counterpart, and if he notices thehisandherstheme I’ve developed, Micah doesn’t say a word. Pouring a bit of heavy whipping cream and a touch of 2% milk into my frothing mini-pitcher, I turn to reach for the vanilla syrup but he already has it in his hand, placing it on the countertop beside me. “Thanks.”
“Make mine a bit stronger today. I had a long night.”
“Sure. Double or triple shot?” Not that I wait for his answer as a sharp pang of fury—jealousy—nearly robs me of breath, but I don’t make a sound. I don’t turn and look at him while I make enough for both cups and then prepare his and mine however I see fit. It’s the best thing to do at the moment; concentrate and pretend that he wasn’t with someone last night.
He’s never mentioned anyone before. Who is—
“I had a small incident aboard the ship last night that delayed my return.”
“I’m sorry. What?”
“Look at me,” Micah says, tone softer yet a bit deeper. Like smooth whiskey or a rich piece of chocolate, and I do as he asks without a second of hesitation. Blue eyes on hazel, and I can’t so much as breathe when he lifts a hand and pushes a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “We had an altercation after an attempted robbery in my stateroom. Everyone is safe. Those involved were caught anddealt with. I promise.”
“Everything’s fine?” I’m filled with a different kind of apprehension now. Without pause, I abandon our drinks and check him for any place he could’ve been hurt. I run my fingers gingerly up his arms to his shoulders and then stroke down his side to his ribs. There’s no flinching or anything that indicates a gauze or dressing, but Iammet with firm muscles beneath the expensive cut of his suit.
His muscles twitch beneath my touch, and yet he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he takes a single step closer. “Yes, rebel.”
“Swear it.” My open palm rests against his right pectoral while our eyes meet once again. I know I’m blushing and that goosebumps have spread across my skin at our proximity, but the worry over anything happening to him outweighs my desire to hide the way my nipples pebble beneath my beaded lace demi-bra with a bow at the center. The thin fabric of my blouse doesn’t help either, not that he looks.
Those heady blues stay on mine. “I’d never lie to you. You can always trust me.”
And I do. He’s never given me a single reason to doubt or question him, not even when he disappears from time to time without an explanation. He’d be gone for a few weeks at a time, come back, and then return to wherever he went, and not even Lionel knows much.
Does he have someone?A thought my heart rejects almost as soon as it hits. My entire being does because he’d never hide that. Not from his family.
“I trust you, Micah. Always have.”
“Good girl.” The effect those words have on me is heady, but I hide behind the guise of stepping back and turning toward our cooling coffees. I push Micah’s toward him before grabbing mine, and with a hum that quickly morphs into a low moan, I hide behind the first sweet sip while he watches my every move. It’s moments like these that confuse and further ignite my hopes for him. Of there being anussomeday. “You’ve always had an unhealthy obsession with caffeine…” his chuckle creates more warmth than my drink “…sometimes I think it’s your first love.”
“No. Not my first.” I shrug, but keep my lips against the mug’s rim while taking in the way the foam begins to disperse, mixing with the light tan drink. “But it’s the most loyal relationship I’ve ever had.”
“Who was your first love, rebel?” It might be my imagination, but there’s a hidden tinge of anger in his question. One that pulls my eyes to his. His expression is neutral, but the tick of his jaw is a sign of his displeasure, one I have an automatic compulsion to soothe. Moreover, in order not to pet him—stroke his chest—I wrap my fingers tighter around the ceramic cup. “Have you been keeping secrets, Liliana?”
“No.” This comes out a bit shaky, but I clear my throat and smile. “All my love affairs are entangled with national brand products, a few coffee machines, and my collection of romance novels. No male attention…yet.”
“Yet?” More at ease. His posture is a bit more relaxed.
“Yes.Yet.” I might love Micah, but one day I want it all…
To have someone who is as head over heels for me as I am for them. To lose my virginity.
I want marriage and a home full of memories. Children that came from love and not duty.