Morehim.
My thumb hovered over the keyboard, and for one reckless, fully grown second, I almost typed the first thing that came to mind.
Then come over.
I could see it too easily. Micah reading it. Micah at my door. His hands on me before either of us had time to pretend we were patient. The whole night turning hot and fast because all that want finally had somewhere to go.
Heat rolled through me hard enough to make me shift on the couch.
I typed the words.
Then come over.
My pulse went stupid the second I saw them sitting there.
Because if Micah came over right then, I knew exactly what kind of night it would become, and God knew I wanted it. But that was the problem. I didn’t only want relief. I wanted time with him I could actually feel. A night with some air in it. Enough room for the wanting to keep doing its work before we gave it everything it was asking for.
I deleted the words, dropped the phone on my chest, and stared at the ceiling.
“Damn you,” I muttered softly, though whether I meant Micah or my own body was not entirely clear.
He had asked me a real question, and some part of me loved that too. No lazy late-night message. No pretending to be casual after showing me he wasn’t.
He wanted more time with me, and he had enough sense to say it plain.
That deserved a real answer.
I picked the phone back up and typed slower this time.
Me: You’re making it hard to act like I’ve got good sense.
I looked at it, then sent it before I could soften it.
His reply came quick.
Micah: I’m okay with that.
A laugh broke out of me before I could stop it.
Of course he was. Of course this man, with his broad chest in that white tee and those big hands and that kiss still living in my body like memory with teeth, was perfectly fine with me losing ground.
I typed back:
That’s because it’s not your sense in danger.
This time his pause felt deliberate.
Micah: You want me to behave or you want me honest?
I sat up slowly on the couch, the book sliding forgotten to the cushion beside me.
Because there it was—the real question.
I could feel the more reckless answer rising again, hot and shameless and almost sweet in how simple it was.
Come over.
Now.