Chapter 31
MILLIE
“Everyone’s nearly finished the book. You just have to convince Shade to let us hold the meeting at his place.”
Lacey’s voice carries through my cheap phone’s speaker, slightly muffled. I cross my legs at the end of my bed and try not to let her hear how nervous I am.
When I first entertained the idea of a book club, I didn’t actually think it would happen.
It was just a toss-away conversation filler, but Shelly didn’t let it stay that way.
I either looked really eager to find some sort of group of friends in Oak Point, or she could just tell how deeply I enjoyed books because she took it upon herself to make it happen.
Then, Lacey was talking my ear off about it, and we were making all sorts of plans.
From how we’d choose our first book and what we wanted our options to be, to whether we wanted to have a theme for the meeting.
Location wasn’t really ever a factor in our excitement, and now we’re rushing to find somewhere to host it.
We’re only a few days from our first meeting, and I’ve been dragging my feet on asking Shade if we can host it here.
Things have been going so well for us that the thought of unintentionally annoying him has kept my mouth shut about this.
Sure, he usually says yes to the things I suggest we do, but this isn’t the same as sliding an extra tub of ice cream into the grocery cart or swapping the old black towels in the bathroom to soft pink ones.
I’d be asking him to invite half a dozen women into his place to talk about smut and the acts of service love language.
“Do we have a backup in case he says no? What about one of the cabins?” I ask, chewing my lip.
“Already asked. They’re fully booked with tourists now that the snow’s fallen. Shelly said the November rush is going to be even worse if we decide to wait.”
“What about the back room of the shop?”
“Sure, if we want to all sit on each other’s laps,” Lacey says with a sigh. “Just ask him, Millie. The worst he can say is no.”
“I feel bad,” I admit, shifting to let my legs hang over the edge of the bed.
“Why? No offense, sweetie, but I think your crush is making you overthink this.”
I laugh roughly, my stomach tightening. “Crush?”
“Yes, crush. The one you have on Shade. It’s obvious.”
“Have you been drinking your grandmother’s moonshine?”
Her scoff is deep, pointed. “No, I haven’t. Don’t try and act confused. You’re into him. And that’s okay. I’m just saying that maybe your feelings for him are making you hesitate to ask.”
“We’re friends, Lacey.”
I think he’s my best friend, actually. The kind I’ve always wanted to have.
“Okay, so you’re friends who want to bone. That’s fine too. But you still need to ask him.”
“Boning isn’t going to happen.” My cheeks flush, heat crawling up my spine before I add, “I’ll ask him.”
She ignores my acceptance and focuses on the first part of my statement. Of course.
“Why not?”
“Because we’re just not, Lace. Can we just leave it?” I ask, exasperated and way too embarrassed to continue.
She huffs into the speaker. “Fine. But that doesn’t change that you’re into him. I’d make a move before it’s too late and you’re driving your pretty ass back home. At least take that man for a test drive. See if you’d entertain the idea of putting an offer down.”
“He’s not a car,” I groan.
“Just think about it.”
“I’ll ask about the book club,” I push firmly. “And you’re going to leave the other topic alone.”
“You’re no fun, Millie.”
I stand, taking a quick look at myself in the mirror above the dresser before saying, “I’ll text you what he says.”
“Fine. Hurry.”
Hanging up, I stare at my reflection for a moment longer. I’m still in my pyjamas, and I haven’t brushed my hair yet. Lacey’s call woke me before my alarm, and with her blabbering tendencies, I probably have next to no time to get ready before work.
Usually, I’d stay in my room until I was sure Shade was in the kitchen or hidden in his room before rushing into the bathroom, but today . . .
I don’t bother changing out of my PJs before pulling my door open and leaving the room. The scent of coffee fills the apartment, drawing me toward the kitchen. Shade makes a full pot of coffee every single morning, even though we only ever drink half before work.
He brings the rest down to the studio for Bryce. She doesn’t really communicate with anyone until she’s finished the cup of whatever she orders from Maggie’s and then downed the rest of Shade’s pot.
At first, I didn’t drink the coffee because he only ever used milk as creamer, but then I started finding a fancy mocha-flavoured one in the fridge both upstairs and in the studio. Now, I can’t start the day without a cup. My body almost craves it. Espresso shots are a thing of the past.
The bathroom door swings open, and I jump backward in surprise.
Shade’s low, dark chuckle finds me next, and I whip my head to the side, staring into the thick clouds of steam.
The at least six-foot-four man blocks the entire doorway as he leans against it and crosses his arms over his very wet, very naked chest.
There’s a tension in his jaw that wasn’t there last night.
And now that I notice it, I follow it all the way down to where his pink towel is tied low on his hips.
Not only does he have muscles that I know took years to get that defined, but a dark trail of hair perfectly centred between two lines leading down, down . . .
My middle heats as I stare at the outline of him beneath the towel, the upward positioning of it—
“You’re running late,” I ramble, my voice cracking like a boy going through puberty.
“Yeah. My alarm didn’t go off,” he says, avoiding my eyes.
“That explains the towel, then. Unless you’re planning on going to work like that.”
He lifts a brow, eyes gliding down my body and stalling at my thighs, his lips pulling down into a scowl. “I’m not the one with bed-head and wearing whatever the fuck those shorts are. I know damn well you aren’t going down looking like that.”
Glancing down at myself, I frown, confused. Yeah, the shorts are short, but they’re PJs. Who wants to sleep in pants? Going downstairs dressed like this wasn’t ever a possibility to me, though. It’s odd that he’d mention that at all. He’s never mentioned my clothing before.
“They’re just shorts.”
“Not fucking shorts. Those things are glorified panties, Millie.”
“Are you trying to lay down some house rules, daddy?” I tease, holding my waist.
There’s a dark gleam to his eyes when they finally lift from my bare legs. The intensity in that blunt gaze makes my skin pepper with bumps. There’s far more than just attraction there.
“I’m not your fucking dad. But if you’re going to walk around my place in those itty-bitty shorts, you can at least let me look at you,” he grinds out.
I tear my teeth into my lip to hold in a squeal when he replaces my hands with his and hauls me into the bathroom with him.
The steam clings to my skin as we squish ourselves into the small space together, and he spins me.
My hips hit the edge of the counter when he bends me over it and keeps me there with a firm hand against my spine.
“If you want to look, then look,” I whisper, finding a voice deep in my chest that doesn’t waver with nerves. There’s a confidence to it now that wasn’t there when I first got here.
After weeks of nothing, no lessons or sneaky touches, I’m coiled tight. I’d gotten used to what we were doing together, and stopping so abruptly has felt wrong. Like we’re making a mistake.
Shade’s hands are so wide they swallow my curves, making them—me—feel tiny. Fragile. Yet despite their size, he’s gentle. His grip is strong but careful in a way that has no right meaning as much to me as it does.
He shifts behind me, moving closer. The shorts are pulled tight between my cheeks in this position, and I’m too close to letting a giggle escape.
With the fog around us, the mirror isn’t clear enough for me to catch a glance at his reflection, so I glance over my shoulder.
He doesn’t miss the shiver that rolls through me when I meet his narrowed, dark eyes.
“I don’t want to just look, princess. That’s the fucking problem,” he grunts, wetting his lips.
The palm of his right hand leaves my hip and curves down over the shape of my ass before gripping the cheek tightly.
His left traces the shape of my shorts, following them to where they get bunched, the lace all that’s left.
He tucks a finger beneath the bottom and runs it along the lace until it disappears completely.
I suck in a tight breath and watch, enthralled with the focus he’s giving my ass, staring at it like it’s a dang work of art.
Like I’m not bent over his bathroom counter in a pair of cheap PJ shorts, but wearing an expensive, silk lingerie set imported from Paris and splayed out on a California king somewhere with a view.
“What do you want to do, then?” I ask, forcing the question up on a panted exhale.
Shade swallows, his throat working hard.
I don’t dare move a muscle as he follows the lace between my cheeks and down to where it’s pressed up against my centre, damp and slick.
The press of his finger as it wedges beneath the fabric and spreads the lips of my sex yanks a garbled moan from my throat.
“Tell me you want another lesson,” he spits, sounding angry with me as he stops moving.
I don’t hesitate, my hips moving back toward him on their own. “I want another lesson.”
“I’m gonna turn your ass red, Millie. And then, I’ll pull you up on this counter and teach you something else so you can feel the burn of my handprint while you sit.”
“Okay,” I moan, nodding frantically. “Yes.”
“So fucking eager. I’m going to go insane. You’re driving me out of my goddamn mind,” he hisses before his palm hits my ass. “I want to do a million more things with you. Knowing I can’t has me exactly like this. Feral.”
I suck in a sharp breath at the contact, feeling the slight sting in the skin but continuing to press backward, toward him.
“You can. You can do anything,” I whisper brokenly, the admission flying out as if I’ve had it on the tip of my tongue for weeks.
“Such a good girl. You’re so willing to let me have my way with you, princess.” His hand swings again, hitting harder this time. “But we can’t go there.”
My whimper has less to do with the pleasure sparking between my legs as he rubs my clit than it does with his rejection. There’s more than friendship here, and I’ve known that long before Lacey brought it up. It’s been that way for weeks. But I’m the only one feeling it.
I clutch the side of the counter and try to steady my breathing. The stretch of two fingers pushing inside of me makes that an impossible task. I lean heavier against the counter to support myself as I force my eyes to stay focused over my shoulder.
“Wanna sink my teeth into this ass,” he groans, his head falling forward as his hips jerk, so close to pressing us together. “Could tattoo the mark onto it so you’ll be branded with me forever.”
Heat goes off like a sparkler inside of my belly. My hold on the counter makes my knuckles white as I grow light-headed. I hear the soft smack of his palm to my ass before I feel it, the slight sting growing fiercer with every swat that follows.
“Do it,” I gasp, my hard nipples scraping the fabric of my top. “Bite me, Shade.”
“Millie.” It’s almost a growl.
“Please.”
He drops to his knees then. I moan, both in relief and pleasure, when he peels my shorts out of the way and brings his mouth to my pussy, licking a hot stripe through it.
The room tilts on its side as he grabs my thighs and lifts me off the ground, holding me up above him.
The sounds he makes are filthy—wet and desperate.
“Missed this pussy,” he breathes out, sucking hard on my clit. “So. Fucking. Good.”
No words come out of my open mouth. I can only feel as he ravages me, bringing me to the edge and then shoving me over it with a devilish grin. My throat tightens around a cry as I come, making it stick before he brings his mouth to the middle of my ass cheek and bites down on it.
“Shade!”
He sets me onto my feet and palms my sore ass, making it burn as he removes his teeth and then sucks on the mark he’s left. It’s primal and raw, and I fall into it like it’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever experienced. With him, it might be.
His body moves to cover my back, the heat from his chest beating into my chest. He grips the counter on either side of me and sets his chin on my shoulder, exhaling.
“Does it hurt badly?”
“Wasn’t that the point?” I ask, still breathless.
“I don’t know what the point of that was.”
I stare down at his hand, watching as it slides closer to mine, whether he means it to or not.
“Why does it have to only be lessons?”
He pauses, tensing behind me. “Because you’re going to leave someday.”
It’s a punch to the chest, leaving me winded.
I want to look at him but know that if I do, I risk him putting an end to this conversation.
Shade might be open about almost everything in his life, but when it comes to this, to emotional intimacy, there’s a wall there that I haven’t been able to sneak around yet.
“You say that like I’ve already made that decision.”
“Have you made one to stay?” he asks, tone dropping in temperature.
I frown, staring up at the mirror as the fog clears. Shade’s looking at the shower, avoiding me despite how close we are.
“Not yet,” I whisper.
The answer shakes him out of his head. When his eyes meet mine in the mirror, they’re guarded.
“I told you I’d teach you how to shave a man’s face with a blade.”
Before I can ask why he’s bringing that up right now, he’s bringing his hands back to my waist and lifting me onto the counter. I swallow my frustration and push it back, searching for the comfort of our friendship instead. It’s safer on that side of the boundary anyway.
Even if the safest alternative would have been to leave this room and take a few minutes to gather ourselves instead. Yet here we are, still close, and pretending that when it comes time for me to choose where to go, I’m not going to be begging him to tell me to stay.