Page 19 of One Rule
“No, what?”
“No. You’re not going anywhere.” Each word is spat out through clenched teeth. “And I suggest you get rid of that thing before I do it for you.”
“Are you serious right now? How am I supposed to…hey!”
“Warned you.” That’s all he says before the box is ripped from my hold and then broken into three uneven pieces. Micah tosses the remnants aside, knocking a gold-leafed frame with a picture of the night he stole my first kiss, to the ground.
In it, I’m standing with Lionel to my right while he occupies my left, each smirking into the lens while I’m blushing profusely. To this day, I blame it on spending the day out on the beach, hanging with friends, and then the game of volleyball my brother started and I won.
Not because he showed up late and then gave me the best gift.
Not because he’d given my heart hope, short-lived as it was.
“You kept our secret,” he says, pulling me out of my thoughts and bringing me into focus. Micah’s squatting a few feet from me and smiling, the still pristine frame in his hand. The glass didn’t crack and there are no scratches, but what has me transfixed is the smile on his lips. How he looks at the frozen moment in time my mother captured and then placed on my office shelves the day I took my original position as part of his IT department.
She was so proud of me that day. Of her daughter following her dreams while putting to use the set of skills I developed during my early teens. Because when nothing else made sense—he didn’t return my feelings—coding never failed me.
It did what I wanted it to. Our relationship wasn’t one-sided or meddled by titles and who I’m related to. My input was received and always gave the desired outcome, not caring who my big brother was.
Programs are predictable. Sequences that make up strings are dependable.
But it never quite filled the void in my heart.
“I did.”
“One day soon, I’m going to reward you for that.”
“What does that mean, Micah?” Because he’s never brought that night up. Never gave me an inkling that it meant anything. “You’re confusing me.”
Standing to his full height, he towers over me while the warmth coming off his body wraps around me. We’re so close. His scent makes me feel a little drunk on him, but it’s the touch of his fingers tipping my chin that weakens my knees. I sway a bit where I stand, there’s warmth where we connect, but his hold on my face remains firm.
Strong yet gentle fingers keep my eyes on Micah while he gifts me my smile. A little crooked and sinful, but mine. “It means I have years’ worth of things to make up for. And I’m a man who pays his debts, sweet rebel. I plan to spoil you.”
* * *
I’ve been thinkingabout our interaction—his words—since coming back to my mother’s condo.
It’s been a few hours since he walked out of my office after removing every available box I’d dragged in from storage to help me move my workspace down a floor. He wasn’t happy with my assumption that I’d be leaving. Micah’s heated look bore into the side of my face as I tried my best to ignore him while putting things back in their place.
That put him at ease. Removed the heaviness in the room as he waited for me to be done.
Then, and only then, did he walk out, but not before dragging me with him. I was walked to my car, buckled in, and told to go home and that he’d let everyone in the lobby know not to let me in until after midday tomorrow.
Not my usual start time of nine, but twelve o'clock and not a second sooner because of my disobedience.
“That’s your punishment, rebel. Undermine me again, and I’ll make sure it stings.”
That’s how he sent me off, not realizing just how much those words affected me.
My body and mind were in sync when it came to him, and I wanted to test his warning. To see just how he’d make itsting.
Because I might be a virgin, but that doesn’t change my biological need for this man. Lust and love dominate me, two sides of the coin, yet they come together to torture my every waking moment.
I wish for the day he bends me over any available surface and takes me.
I pray every night for him to love me. See me.
“Maybe working with him isn’t such a good—” I’m cut off by the sudden ringing of my doorbell and look up. It chimes throughout the house, forcing me to pad out of my room after dropping the cozy camisole and shorts set I pulled out of my still-unpacked luggage and was seconds from slipping into. Cooking tonight was going to be a simple affair, as were my plans of spending the night under my covers while watching a movie.