15. Lissie
Chapter 15
Lissie
“I’ve never had a man apologize to me before and mean it.”
M ilo Savage is many things, but someone who apologizes to women? I didn’t think that was possible.
I’m learning so much about him.
“Milo,” I say his name softly as he walks off with my bag, but he hears me anyway. When he turns back, his eyes lock on mine and hit me hard. So hard, but I try not to look away. I bet many people do when he looks at them like that. They’re intense, and it’s as if they can eat into your soul with just a simple glance. It’s then I realize how dark his chocolate eyes are. His lashes are full and thick, and when he closes his eyes, they rest on perfectly sculpted cheekbones.
“I’ll go with you,” I tell him.
He gives a quick jerk of his head in acknowledgment, and we head over to his bike. He helps me with my helmet, strapping it under my chin before he straddles his ride. After his own helmet is in place on his head, he glances back at me, waiting for me to get on behind him. I don’t take his offered hand or let him think he can pick me up again. I get on with little help, wrapping both arms around his waist. He grunts once before he takes off, the bike’s engine roaring. I plaster myself to his back, closer than I was last time, as he rides.
It doesn’t take long before he pulls up to an unfamiliar house. He gets off and wastes no time before lifting me up and helping me off. I wince, and he looks at me, confused.
“Milo, you came.” He turns toward Jill as she approaches. I can’t help but stare at Milo. He’s tall, with tightly packed muscles. Nothing like Cody. Cody is taller than me, but he was lean and built like a runner at the beginning before he got hooked on drugs and whatever else he was into. “And you brought your friend. Come inside. Everyone is here already. As soon as they heard the news you were coming, they wanted to say hi. It’s not every day you come over to visit the family.”
Milo gives me a look over his shoulder before he follows Jill inside. I step up next to him as we walk through the white door leading into the house. It’s your average one-story home, but you can feel the love as soon as you enter. The cozy living room welcomes us with its soft lighting and comfortable furniture. Pictures line the walls, capturing memories and happy moments. The sound of giggles echoes from the other rooms, creating an inviting atmosphere that envelops me instantly.
“Cassy, come say hello to Milo and his friend.” A teenager with the same hair as Milo—dark with lighter strands throughout—comes around the corner. She stands tall and smiles when she sees him. The giggling stops, then starts again, and Jill puts an arm around the girl’s shoulders. “Milo, you remember my oldest, Cassy. The other two are in the kitchen, also giggling if you can’t hear them. And your uncle is out back, barbecuing.”
“We already ate,” Milo says, and Jill’s smile drops.
“Well, if you’re hungry, feel free to eat.” She waves us through as Cassy stares at me.
“She’s really pretty, Milo.” Her soft eyes are on me before she turns to Milo, and I see she admires him. “Is she your girlfriend?”
“No, she’s married,” he mumbles, causing her eyes to widen.
“Hi,” I reply. “Milo was nice enough to take me to the shops.”
Jill turns back then and looks at us.
“That’s nice of you,” Cassy says. “And you aren’t all that nice, Milo.”
Jill scolds her daughter and tells her to go away while I giggle.
Milo glares at me.
“What?” I ask innocently.
“I’m not nice?” he asks, knowing what I’m laughing at.
I shrug. “It’s the truth.” I smirk before I follow Jill. Milo falls in behind me until we reach the kitchen, where the forest-green backdoor opens, and a man steps inside. He has a kind smile.
“Uncle Lester.” Milo nods.
Lester wraps his arms around Milo and pats him on the back. “Been too long, kid. Way too long.”
“He’s too busy being scary to see us,” Cassy adds with the perfect eye roll.
I wonder if I was like that as a teenager.
“Scary? Is that what you are?” I ask Milo as his uncle releases him and stands proudly next to him.
“Some would assume so,” Milo grumbles as his eyes narrow at me.
My lips thin as I try to hide my smile.
“Seems you don’t think so,” Lester says.
“Milo is just a big teddy bear,” I tell them. “And he has issues with personal space,” I add, referring to that time I woke up in his bed.
“Just yours,” Milo mutters under his breath.
I ignore him and turn to Lester. “Are you Milo’s mother’s brother?”
“Yes, dear.” He pauses, then addresses Milo. “You’ve told her about your mother?”
Milo watches me as he speaks, “She knows she died. That’s it.” And he leaves it at that.
Jill hums loudly before she turns and goes back to cooking whatever she was making before we arrived.
“How did she die?” I ask, and everyone goes quiet at my question.
“On the back of my father’s bike,” Milo says. He’s being vague, but the pain I see in his expression tells me to drop it. On a good day, Milo doesn’t use a lot of his words. I doubt I’ll get him to tell me something that’s painful for him.
“It’s been almost a year since you’ve visited,” Cassy says, breaking the awkward silence.
“I’m busy,” Milo replies without a care in the world.
Lester nods. “They say the club is better than it’s ever been.”
“Yes, it is,” Milo states.
“Proud of you.” Lester claps him on the back.
“You never wanted me to join,” Milo points out, and I can hear a bit of anger in his tone.
“Yes, but you’re like your mother and do what you want. So I’m glad you’re turning it around for the better.”
“Lissie, do you hang out at the club often? Milo won’t let me go,” Cassy asks.
“A little, yeah.” Milo grinds his teeth at my answer. “But not lately.”
I observe him as he interacts with them, and it’s not the same way he is with me. I can tell he knows these people, but he’s still reserved, not that he isn’t with me. Except when Milo looks at me, I feel like he sees more of me as I do him.
Cassy makes small talk with me for a good hour before Milo stands and tells them we have to go. As we walk out and he hands me my helmet, I turn to face him. “It must be nice to have people who love and care about you.” Milo doesn’t respond. He simply puts his helmet on and climbs onto his bike.
I don’t know much about my father—as far as I know, he died when I was young. All I had was my mother, and I saw Savannah on holidays. So I don’t understand why he doesn’t appreciate the family he has.
I climb onto the bike easier this time. Milo reaches back, grabs my hands, and pulls them tight around his chest. He holds one hand there as he starts the bike. I lean my head against his back. He smells of leather and so many possibilities.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t get you to work sooner rather than later?” Milo says as he walks into the apartment the next day. I’m curled up on the couch, wearing the dress he bought me and reading a book I started last night and haven’t been able to put down, thanks to Letti and her extensive book collection.
“What?” I ask. I sigh as I lay the book down on my chest. Dammit! I just got to a really good part. He picks up the book and scans the page as his frame takes up all my air and space. He’s dressed in his leathers and smells just as good as he usually does. He lets out a haughty laugh before those dark eyes find mine.
“He slides it in, nice and slow, hitting every spot imaginable.” He stops reading aloud, glances at me, and returns to the book, picking up where he left off. “He’s a God in the bedroom, the way he slips one hand behind my head and grips my hair while the other hand finds its way to my core.” He stops again and raises a brow. “Do you know what a core is?” I’m too stunned to speak because of the way he just read, which has me squeezing my legs a little tighter together. Why was that so hot? Is this how he feels when I read to him?
“Elizabeth.” I don’t even know what he’s saying. When I don’t answer, he looks back to the book. “His hand plays with me like he’s been playing delicate music all his life and it’s waited for the right chord to pluck—my chord—and oh my god, talk about build-up. His hands hold me still. His body weight is heavy, and his…” My eyes are closed as he reads, and when they spring open at the sudden silence, I see him studying me. “You enjoy this.” I nod. No shame in it. Romance is for everyone. Men watch porn because they are usually more stimulated by visuals, while women prefer to create the perfect scenarios in their minds.
Who knew this was my perfect scenario?
“Elizabeth, if you don’t—”
My hand slides between my legs. I just need a little pressure. But as I touch myself with Milo watching, I realize I need more than a little pressure. His tongue darts out of his mouth and licks that scar I love. There is definitely something to be said about touching yourself with a man who exudes sex appeal from his pores while watching you. I work hard to keep my hips steady while I maintain eye contact with him.
“You can go now,” I say, smiling.
“So you can fuck yourself?” He scoffs. His eyes leave mine and stray back to my hand, playing between my legs. “I can see you applying pressure. Do you need help?” He shows me his hand that isn’t holding the book, and I shake my head.
He smirks.
“Bye, Milo,” I breathe out.
He looks pained at first, but then he takes my book with him when he leaves. And the first thing I do is run to my room and touch myself for real, with Milo’s face front and center in my mind. Even when I try to think of something else, it’s his face that dominates every image in my head.
Afterward, I realize it’s the first time I have ever felt a need, a want like that. Something I never got with my husband.
Am I cheating?
Is that what this is?
Shaking my head, I strip myself down, get in the shower, and scrub myself of my bad thoughts.