Standing in my sweats, shirtless, with every bit of ink on his body exposed, Micah’s beauty was on full display. His hair was a mess, eyes still dazed, and I wanted to kiss him so badly it made my heart hurt.

Instead, I spun around to head to the kitchen. Micah followed.

“So, my friend Duncan cooks a lot and gives me all the leftovers. I’m not sure what you’re in the mood for, but he makes an incredible pad Thai if you’re up for that. But if you’re not feelin’ it, that I always keep at least two emergency pizza-esque dishes on hand at all times.”

“Yeah, I’m down for the pad Thai. But I’m intrigued—why two pizzas?”

With a shrug, I opened the freezer and pulled out two servings. “Sometimes bad days can turn into two, and I’ll never stop hearing my therapist tell me how getting out of bed and having a meal at least once a day is better than staying in bed and not eating at all.”

I braced for Micah to give me some sad eye look because that’s usually what everyone did in his position. And I hated it when people did that, looked at me like I was some beaten up puppy the SPCA put in those ridiculous commercials. But I got nothing but a simple nod, and then Micah slipped out of the kitchen and toward the living room.

Huh. That was a pleasant surprise. This dude kept me on my toes, that was for sure.

I grabbed the food from the microwave and headed to the living room. Micah stood in front of the bookcase, staring at the pottery more closely. He tilted his head to the side as he studied a photo and pointed at it. “You know, I hadn’t snagged you as a kickball guy.”

“I’m not.”

Micah looked at me. His hair was an absolute riot, cheeks still reddened, a small patch of red under his jaw from my teeth. A smiled played at his swollen lips. “Did you lose a bet?”

I placed the food down, walked to Micah, and looked at the photo. Tristan and I stood in the middle, surrounded by a group of five-year-olds holding up the medals that hung around their necks. I’d been out of rehab for two years at that point, and to anyone who didn’t know, I just looked like a young college kid working two jobs and not eating enough.

“I joined all on my own. A friend of mine asked me if I’d help coach and I figured, well, I ain’t got nothing else going on. Turned out to be more fun than I thought.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Micah said, jogging his finger along the side of the shelf and stopping in front of the first pottery piece I’d ever made.

“Did one of the kids you coach make this?”

“No.” I ducked my head and rubbed the back of my neck, trying to calm the burn of embarrassment crawling over my skin. “I did.”

I peeked up at it, knowing it was the saddest excuse of a mug. I’d made it in a class with my brother when he came to visit me a few months after I got clean. We’d spent years not talking, and that ugly-ass piece of ceramic meant more to me than anything else in this apartment.

It was one of my first steps of moving forward into a new life.

“I like it,” Micah said.

I furrowed my eyebrows. “Why?”

Micah glanced sideways at me and shrugged. “Because it’s not perfect. Growing up, there wasn’t much room for mediocrity, and I am very mediocre.”

There was a tightness in his eyes as he chewed at the corner of his mouth, and I was pretty shocked when I realized he actually believed what he said. I didn’t agree with that at all. There was no way he didn’t catch the eye of anyone as he walked by. Shit, all it took was a couple of sentences and I was hooked.

I reached up and brushed my knuckles across the edge of his jaw and curled my fingers under his chin, turning him toward me. “You? Mediocre? Naw.”

Micah turned his body fully toward me and wet his lips, unlocking a heat in my chest that spread toward my fingertips and toes. Curling my hand around the back of his neck, I pulled him toward me and captured his lips with mine.

I wanted to take this slow, but it was hard since usually we were in a rush to get to the point. The moment I touched Micah, all I was doing was trying to figure out how to get him out of his clothes.

I kept my mouth closed on purpose, not giving in to his invitation when the tip of his tongue dragged along the seam of my mouth. Breaking away earned a groan of frustration, but I made up for it by nipping down the column of his throat, because Micah was a slut for having his neck touched.

My hands slid up his sides, fingernails scratching up his spine, followed by a soft sweep of my hand. I nosed away his shirt so I could lick at his collarbone, smiling against his skin when he shuddered.

Micah jerked back and cupped my face, slamming our mouths together. He always kissed like he was giving everything he had, the easy curl of his tongue against mine distracting me enough for him to rub the pad of his thumb over my nipple.

My cock jerked to life again, and Micah smiled against my lips when I gripped his hips and pressed him against me.

“Bed,” I said, my voice ragged as I grabbed his hand and headed toward the bedroom again.

“I thought you were starving,” Micah asked, laughter in his tone.

I pushed him down on the bed, tugged off my sweats, and dropped to my knees, leaning forward to nuzzle at his crotch. “Fuck the food. We can reheat it.”

When I mouthed against the thick fabric of my sweats, Micah let out a burst of breath, his fingers knotting tightly in my hair. “Well, I’m glad we know how long it takes for round two.”

I couldn’t admit that this would only happen with him. Micah wasn’t the first guy I’d fucked around with since I’d been clean, but he was the first one I’d call a lover. The first one that made me want to be brave enough to take risks again.

MICAH

“Are your skates tightened enough?”

Evelyn’s hazel eyes slanted me a firm look of annoyance. “For the second time, yes, they are.”

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. God, it was amazing how at nine—nine and a half, as she often liked to remind me—Evie had developed this much sass. It felt like it’d happened overnight. I lifted my hands in surrender, and Dakota snorted a laugh nearby, which earned him equal glares from both of us.

Evelyn’s friends headed into the roller rink, and she huffed an impatient breath. “Can I go now?”

“Remember to keep the ankles straight and knees bent.” I waited a beat before I asked, “Want me to go with you?”

“No, I’m okay,” Evelyn said as she skated toward the rink entrance. She looked over her shoulder and gave me a wave before heading into the rink.

The tender warmth I held for her flickered. “Well, I’m glad she still likes me.”

“She adores you. Preteen hormones hate everyone,” Dakota said, watching the kids make a lap around the rink.

I gingerly sat down and rolled my stiff neck. After leaving Nik’s apartment at almost two in the morning, I struggled to keep my eyes open.

The taste of him was still heavy on my tongue. My hands twitched at the phantom touch of his hands, squeezing my hips as he encased my dick with his mouth, sliding down until it touched the back of his throat. He’d let it sit there for a mere second before he pulled off and asked, voice sex-burred, I wanna sixty-nine. Ya cool with that?

I rubbed my hands over the goosebumps that rose on my skin and bit my cheek to stave off the shiver threatening to surface.

“Preteens are rough, aren’t they?”

At the sound of Dakota’s voice, the hazy memory of last night slipped away. I cleared my throat. “Yeah, I don’t know how you do it.”

“It’s easy. I honestly find it kinda funny. I’d rather she feel her feelings without me blowing up at her like my dad used to do to me.” Dakota turned to me, resting his curled arm on the back of the bench and giving me a once-over. “So, tell me why you showed up like a gremlin about to fall asleep in your seat, because it’s a much more entertaining topic of conversation.”

I stretched my legs and sank down on the bench. Hard plastic dug into the base of my skull, but the distraction was enough to keep me conscious. “Don’t give me shit when I’m down for the count,” I said through a yawn. “I was up late last night and barely got any sleep.”