Page 76 of Psycho

15

MICAH

Maybe it wasa mistake to tell her about me sending the thumb.

I couldn’t bring myself to care anymore or second-guess my actions.

I didn’t want to.

It seemed there was nothing I could do to make her transition easier, so I should just not take any more caution.

This way was better because I wasn’t a man given to indecisiveness, and I had felt it with her.

Saturday morning, I sat on the edge of the bed and watched her sleep.

She had spent the entire night in my arms.

Still hadn’t spoken to me unless she had to, and though I wasn’t a talkative man by nature, I found I missed her voice.

I wanted to hear her speak to me, even about the most mundane things—things I wouldn’t have tolerated listening to with other people.

She shifted a little on the bed, and I felt myself stilling as I waited for her to open her eyes.

They were still soft from sleep, the green of her irises light. It took her a moment to catch my eyes, but when she did, wariness soon entered, driving away the sleep.

She sat up and pulled the blanket up to her chest—a defense mechanism, perhaps. As if the piece of fabric could really protect her from me should I decide I wanted to hurt her.

I didn’t want to hurt her.

I—

I didn’t fucking know what I wanted to do with her.

Make her come?

Bring her to the height of ecstasy until all that was left would be me and her and nothing and no one else from the outside world to penetrate through.

I blinked.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice thick.

I stood up. “Get ready.”

Before she could say anything else, I walked out of the room. My lips twitched, wanting to smile, when I heard her let out a small sigh.

Fuck, but I couldn’t even remember the last time I wanted to smile like that.

* * *

It tookher less than twenty minutes to get ready, and when she came out, she was wearing a pair of black leggings and a blue t-shirt that was probably a size too big, hiding her figure from my gaze.

Her long dark hair was down, the end curling inwards, and her green eyes bright.

Her skin was free of imperfection. If I had anything to say about it, it would stay like that for the rest of her life.

Her eyes moved to the scar on my face, curiosity set in them.

Only Roman knew how I got the scar, and it never really bothered me, but I wondered if she found it grotesque.

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