Page 14 of Micah

Not him. Never him.

Her name is on the deed.

Her name is on the liquor license.

Her name is on the business registration.

Every square inch of that place is hers.

So why does she keep letting him rule it?

Why does she automatically make herself smaller whenever he steps into her space?

Why does she look over her shoulder before making even the smallest decision?

The numbers don't add up.

Neither do the people.

And that's what keeps me coming back.

Not because she's beautiful.

And believe me—she is.

Sloane is so fucking pretty I get tongue-tied when I look at her.

She’s a natural redhead, and that fiery mane of hers? It’s wild.

Curly. Long.

I want to wrap it around my fist and pull her head back so I can lick my way from her mouth down to her glorious cleavage I’ve peeked a few times when she’s worn lower cut tops—not that she dresses provocatively.

She doesn’t.

But I know I’d love it if she did.

She’s the kind of curvy that makes guys like me want to spend hours exploring all her peaks and valleys.

Fuck, now I’m sitting here with half a hard-on and it’s not because I can't stop thinking about the way her freckles dance across her nose every time she smiles.

Though I can't.

It's because I’m wondering how far down those freckles go.

Do they go all the way down?

Do they get darker when she’s excited?

Fuck.

I give my cock a squeeze, willing the damn thing to behave.

I want to act on those impulses, but I don’t.

Not yet.

Because something's wrong.