Chapter 14
SHADE
Any minute now, Millie’s going to get up out of that spinning chair and say something to me.
I’ve been waiting for her to mention our conversation last night since I arrived this morning to find her already pacing in front of the door. She didn’t spare a look at the coffee I handed over before gulping it down and rushing to that damn spot behind the desk.
The nervous energy around her is so charged it could spark if poked a bit too hard.
She stares down at the paperwork in front of her, foot tapping to a quick beat.
She’s wearing the shoes with the fancy red bottoms today and, for the first time since I’ve met her, a pair of tight, black pants instead of a skirt.
They’re doing wonders for the legs I’m already too fucking obsessed with, as if they needed another reason to draw my eye.
Today was slow in the studio for me. I finished with my only booking an hour ago, having cut a chunk off the estimated time we’d booked for the half sleeve. My back may hurt like a bitch from sitting hunched over for six hours, but I’m nowhere near ready to head upstairs to bed yet.
Stretching out, I raise my arms above my head and stare at her. There’s no mistaking where I’m looking or who I’m looking at now that it’s just us two. I release a low groan, hoping that will draw her gaze, but it doesn’t.
Millie’s leg starts shaking faster, her elbow digging into the desk.
Frustration urges me to try harder. Ignoring me isn’t going to keep us from talking about her list or what happened this morning with Shelly.
The only thing that could throw a wrench into this little plan we have going is for her to change her mind or have to go back home already.
And Christ, that’s not what I want in the slightest.
Yeah, I shouldn’t, but I want to show her everything I know.
The attraction between us is there, and I’m not the type of guy to let that pass without trying my hand at getting her beneath it.
Millie isn’t my usual woman, and instead of stepping foot in a puddle of complication, I’m jumping headfirst into a pool of safe exploration.
We’re not crossing any improper lines with this agreement.
Everything is clean-cut and simple.
“The shop is closed, princess,” I say.
Her leg stills. “Already?”
“It’s been empty for an hour.”
“Oh, I didn’t notice.”
“Because you’ve been so busy with paperwork or because you’ve been focusing on ignoring me?”
Slowly, she lowers her arm, still staring down at the desk. “I wasn’t ignoring you. I’m here to work, Shade. I don’t want to let anyone down.”
“Mm, and work you did. No disappointing happening here. Now, you’re off the clock and can put an end to what you’re doing. Come here,” I urge gently, moving my stool back from the leather table a few inches.
“You have to promise that you really won’t judge me for what I’ve put on my list. And I want you to go first.”
When she finally glances my way, it’s as she stands. Her hands collide, thumbs tapping on the backs of them.
“I won’t judge you, Millie, but I’m not going first. I don’t want you to just agree to everything I say because you’re nervous.”
“Couldn’t you be a bit more selfish?” she mutters, crossing the studio.
My grin is crooked. “I could, but I’m trying to be a good guy.”
“Aren’t you supposed to believe that good guys are overrated or something?”
I snort a laugh. “No, I’ve always rooted for the good guy. Most of the time, they deserve the girl more than guys like me do.”
“I don’t agree,” she bites out, and that bit of fire calls to my curiosity like a moth to a flame.
“Oh? Does that tone have anything to do with why you were at Peakside in a muddy wedding dress?”
A sigh slips from her lips, and I spread my legs to make more room for her in front of me. She takes the spot, her back against the tattoo bed and hand falling to touch it.
“The only type of man I’ve ever known is the one who should be the hero in every story.
The Prince Charming with a carriage at the ready to take me back to his castle and keep me trapped there under the ruse of protection.
Sometimes, it’s nothing more than a costume, Shade.
I know you think I’m a princess, but that’s not who I want to be.
It’s not even who I really think I am past the personality traits that I’ve been force-fed my entire life.
At this point, I think I’d rather be a villain instead. ”
Flicking my eyes between each of hers, I find the truth in her words. She chews her lip, allowing me to look without glancing away and hiding.
“You can be whoever you want to be here, Millie.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
I frown, rejecting the impulse to reach for her hand. “Why are you afraid?”
“Because I don’t know if I’ll have to lose that part of me the moment I leave. I’m not sure I could be happy again without it.”
There’s nothing I can say yet to help her. I don’t know the right answers to put her fears at ease. There’s still so much time left for her to explore, and she could be right. Once she finds out who she wants to be, there might not be any way for her to pretend anymore.
I know I couldn’t change who I am.
“Let’s just focus on right now. Read me your list,” I demand, working hard to keep my tone level.
Her breath skips as she drops her gaze to her pants. The outline of her phone is obvious in the tight material, and I poke my tongue into my cheek to keep quiet. She pulls it out and swipes at the screen before lifting her eyes again.
I roll forward on my stool and brush my knees against her legs. Her nerves are so obvious it’s almost making me nervous.
“Do you want me to read it for you?” I offer.
“No. No, I can do it.”
“Alright,” I murmur.
With a clearing of her throat, she focuses on her phone. “Tongue kissing.”
It takes everything in me to keep my expression blank instead of surprised. I know she said inexperienced, but I assumed she’d have done that, even if it were sloppy and disappointing.
I nod. “What’s next?”
“I don’t know if you’d want to, or even could help with this, but . . .” She trails off, inhaling through her nose. Her next sentence is rough, sounding as if she had to yank each word up her throat individually. “I’m never able to get myself to finish when I touch myself.”
Have fucking mercy.
It’s not possible to spread my legs any wider than I already am. My groin is tight, too constricted as I try to shift on the tiny-ass fucking leather stool.
“You want help making yourself come?” I ask, voice throaty and raw, as if I’ve scraped it with a cheese grater.
Millie glares at me. “Do you have to ask like that? It’s embarrassing enough without you judging me like you said you wouldn’t.”
“I didn’t mean for it to come out badly. I’m not judging. Consider it on the list, princess. Tell me what’s next.”
Her hesitation bothers me. Pushing forward, I box her in completely against the table and take the hand she’s using to grip the leather. It’s only for support. That’s the only reason I hold her fingers and stroke my thumb along each one.
“What you think is judgment is excitement,” I admit, risking putting that out there in hopes it helps her be more comfortable.
Blue eyes widen slightly. “You better not be placating me.”
“You’ve had my dick hard since you came over here, Millie.”
“Oh,” she whispers.
It takes everything in me not to move a muscle when her stare dips, trailing down my torso to where I’m too goddamn stiff and uncomfortable. I wait for a reaction and get rewarded for my patience the second a soft exhale blows past her parted lips. Her fingers flex in my hold, clutching tightly.
“Tell me what’s next,” I urge, continuing to stroke her hand.
“I want to learn how to make you feel good.”
She doesn’t mean me, not really. But shit, right now, that’s all I hear.
“How?”
“How?” she repeats, slowly pulling her eyes up from between my spread legs.
“With your hands or your mouth?”
“Both.”
I tip my chin, breathing heavily. “What else?”
“There’s only one more.”
“That’s okay. I have plenty,” I announce.
Intrigue fills her gaze, but she pushes past it. “I’ve only ever had one thing that I’ve been curious about that isn’t, like, base level.”
“Go on.”
She rolls her eyes. “I want to try touching someone when we’re not alone.”
“Explain not alone,” I encourage, my thoughts tipping over into a place that’s hot and raw, pulsating with excitement.
“Like beneath the table at a restaurant or hidden in a dark hallway somewhere. I’ve obviously never tried it, but the thought of doing something like that has always excited me. I know it might be too much—”
“It’s not, Millie. You’re interested in something, and it doesn’t matter how big or small it is. If I were uncomfortable with the idea of trying, I would tell you that,” I explain, hardly holding on to my head at this point.
“And you’re not uncomfortable with it?”
“Far fucking from it.”
Some of the tension disappears from her. There’s a lightness there now that betrays how relaxed she’s growing.
“What’s on your list?” she asks, voice more confident now.
Instead of answering, I stand from the stool and move our joined hands to rest on the table behind her. Then, I let her fingers go. She sucks in a breath at our sudden closeness, and I tip my lips in a crooked grin while gripping the backs of her thighs and lifting her clean off the floor.
“Shade—” she gasps when her ass hits the leather table, bringing us face to face, my height no longer a hindrance.
I slide a hand through her hair and palm the back of her head.
I’ve never felt hair this fucking soft before or smelled the soft scent that drifts from it.
It’s sweet yet spicy, and I’m hoping that’s exactly what I’m going to find when I break into that beautiful fucking head of hers and uncover all the parts of her she didn’t know existed.
“We need you to get more comfortable with me before hearing what’s on my list,” I rasp, gently guiding her head back.