Page 22 of Embracing the Beat
“I—you—if you changed your mind…”
“I haven’t,” he replies, stepping closer, wrapping his heat around me again. “But if I kiss you now, I won’t stop. And then our plans for this”—he holds up the tie that started this whole thing—“are forgotten.”
“Oh.” My breathing shallows as his eyes move down my body, leaving frissons of heat in their wake. A half smile tilts his lips, and I’m surprised a fire doesn’t spark around us.
“Now that we’re both clear on what’s going to happen when I kiss you again, I want you to go upstairs. Take this.” He hands me the tie, and my heart gallops in my chest, desperate to let the fire consume me. Aching to ignite the torturous smolder burning through my body. “Get undressed. Wait for me.”
His expression tells me he expects obedience. Without question.
But I’ve never been much of a rule follower.
“W-wait for you to do what?” My breasts, heavy in the confines of my clothes, ache to feel his touch.
“That’s for me to know,” he murmurs, his voice dropping lower and eliciting a deep tug of desire in my center, “and you to find out.”
Oh. My. God. Is it possible for panties to incinerate? Because mine just did.
I don’t waste any time, snagging the tie from his fingers and hurrying up the stairs, only to freeze when I reach the top.
His room? Or mine?
The thought of invading his room without him there holds zero appeal, so I turn into the first doorway, into my room. The familiarity—the purple and teal bedspread, the concert posters from high school still tacked to the wall—lends a sense of security. Stuffed animals still line the top shelf of the bookcase filled with everything except books.
What will West think of seventeen-year-old Michaela’s decorations?
Doubt creeps in, pushing out the sparks he had stoked to a glowing fire. He’s one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, successful, kind, generous. Case in point? What he’s doing for my parents while they’re gone. And when I think about how insanely gorgeous he is, how much of the total package is wrapped into one person, my confidence plummets. What does he see in me?
What do you think he sees? What does everyone see?
The snarky voice fuels the doubt, and I turn around, prepared to stop this before it can go any further, but come up short when I find him in the doorway, arms up along the jamb as he watches me with glittering eyes.
“I thought I told you to undress.” He steps into the room, and the desire thumps to life again. It wars with insecurity, paralyzing me between the two emotions. He studies me for a minute, his face shifting from lust to concern. “What’s wrong?”
“I—nothing.”
He steps closer, and he lifts his hands to curl around my arms.
“Something’s wrong.” It’s all he says, but it’s enough to remind me of how well West knows me.
“You—what do you see when you look at me?” I brace myself. Does he see the girl in the sex tape with Tucker? The girl who broke up America’s Sweetheart Couple, no matter that he was single when I went out with him?
“What do I see? Michaela, when I look at you, I see a beautiful woman on the outside,” he says, and I sigh in disappointment. “But on the inside, you’re still the girl I used to know. The funny one who told enough knock-knock jokes to make anyone groan, the sweet one who rescued ladybugs from the house to take them outside. Beauty, inside and out.”
His words unleash something in me, the anxiety scattering in a thousand directions. Closing the distance, I wrap my arms around his neck. Lifting to my toes, I simultaneously tug his lips to mine. I may have surprised him at first, but between one breath and the next, he takes control of the kiss, his hands caging my hips.
My legs hit the bed, and I fall backward with a cry of surprise. When I open my eyes, he looms above me, an easy grin curving his lips. His face sobers, the lust reigniting in his gaze the longer he stares at me. It’s like his eyes have a direct connection to my core, and it tightens with anticipation.
“You were told to get undressed,” he says, his fingers shifting to the bow on the side of my dress. With one tug, it unknots.
“Sorry?” My voice is meek, overwhelmed by the hunger building between us.
“Unfortunately, sorry isn’t going to cut it.” He moves one edge of the dress aside, groaning at the tie on the other side. His fingers yank impatiently at it, and my breath breaks as that knot comes loose too. Dragging the fabric away, he sinks his teeth into his lower lip, reminding me of the way they claimed mine. The way I want them to master me again. “Beautiful.”
I lift my arms to pull him to me, and he grips both my wrists in one hand. Snagging the tie from beside the bed, he arches an eyebrow, and I squirm as heat streams through my body.
“Let me help you,” he murmurs. Lifting me slightly, he tugs the dress over my head and down my arms, only breaking his grip long enough to toss it behind him. He pulls the tie from where he hung it over his shoulder and loops it around my wrists, tightening it until the silk presses snugly against my skin. It looks odd, the tail hanging long, but he grabs it and yanks, pulling my arms above my head, stealing my breath in the process. “Perfect.”
“Now what?” I ask, my voice husky with the need for him to continue.
