Miller
“Could you cut it out?” I asked, rubbing the furrow between my brows. I’d long since given up not getting my tuxedo dusty and resigned myself to sitting back on the dirty bench with my legs stretched out in front of me. Emma huffed this breathy, sexy little sound that escaped her lips and would probably smell like sweet wine if she’d come closer.
She refused to sit down, going between banging on the door, tugging uselessly on the handle, and calling for help. I shut up after referring to her as a damsel in distress—big mistake, that was—but it was time she took a break.
Would she listen? Doubtful.
When I suggested she sit down because she stumbled three times in those damnable silver heels, she gave me the finger.
Where’s a half-drunk bottle of bourbon stashed in a locker when you need it?
That imagined alcohol would calm the ache in my chest because there was a war inside me—my mind and body fought for control.
“No. I can’t cut it out. Not until we get out of here,” she said, pushing past me to pace across the small space again. Her hands clenched and released before rising to her neck and massaging the spot where it met her shoulder.
“Emma. You have to sit down. You’re going to give yourself blisters.”
“Blisters are the least of my concerns. I just want to get out of here.”
I watched her pass by me two more times before my hand darted out, and I grabbed her wrist. She tried to pull away, but I had her entire wrist between my fingers. She relented after a moment, and I tugged her closer, rubbing my thumb along the steady thump of her pulse. It raced under my touch, and I raised an eyebrow, keeping steady pressure on her until she sat beside me. The silky material of her dress clung to her curves and stretched across her gorgeous hips as she lowered herself down.
“Come here and talk to me, Emma.”
She crossed her arms and tilted her head in the opposite direction. Then, like the air had been sucked from her lungs, her shoulders deflated, and her head dropped to her chest.
I knew that look—it was the body language that gave it away. All night, she’d put up a hell of a wall, like a feral animal poised to attack with her tail puffed and her teeth bared. She’d rip me to shreds with her claws if I got too close—or said the wrong thing. But the way she tucked her arms close to her body, making herself smaller, shielding herself, told another tale.
With each passing moment, her fingers dug deeper into her palms, causing her knuckles to turn an eerie shade of white and her lips to tremble. Emma was holding on by a thread, using sheer stubborn pride to keep herself together. I was filled with a deep-seated respect for her fortitude and desperation to tug her into my arms and demand she forgive every transgression I’d ever committed.
“I thought that by showing up here tonight, I could make up for what happened on Friday.”
“You mean where you showed up in jeans, insulted me, then left?”
“You weren’t exactly a picture-perfect princess, babe.”
“I know that,” she said, throwing her arms in the air. Before she could start pacing again, I stood as well, wrapping my arms around her and tugging her onto the bench and into my lap. She froze but, after a moment, melted into my embrace. Her legs peeked out from the large slit in her dress—almost up to her waist—and I found myself transfixed by the amount of skin I’d revealed.
My hands skimmed over her on the unforgiving bench, and my brain short-circuited as I stared at her, not sure where to touch her first or if she’d even welcome it. Still, the need to set her skin ablaze with my hands and mouth, leaving small flames in my wake as I mapped her skin, was overwhelming.
“I didn’t want to go another day without you,” I said, pressing my face into her neck. I felt her body tighten and then relax as she breathed, unsure if that was the right thing to say.
Was it as effective as ‘I’m a jealous prick and want you all to myself?’
Probably not, but one of us had to open the line of communication. Neither of us would have been as defensive and hot-headed as we were the other night unless there were genuine feelings involved. Feelings I was tired of denying. With age came wisdom and all that bullshit, so I refused to be the guy who didn’t go leaping head-first into what he wanted.
So, it took me years to figure it out. It was like a lightning bolt to the heart. As soon as I said the words out loud—or to my brother—I knew I would do anything to make it a reality.
Of course, the first time I had the chance to tell her how I felt, I fucked it five ways to Sunday. I got defensive and jealous and every other descriptive word you could think of for my shit behavior. All because I couldn’t say the one thing I felt deep in my bones.
I’ve fallen in love with you.
“I deleted those dating apps, Miller,” she whispered, almost as if she was sharing some long-repressed secret and not words that had me purring like a goddamned tiger. “All of that is over.”
I roared, exhaling hard enough to see goose bumps appear on her neck. No more pathetic, limp-dick boys making her cry.
“Fuck, Emma. You couldn’t have told me that in a text message?” I asked before releasing a nervous chuckle. She curled her body into mine, sighing as she rested her head on my shoulder.
“No, something like that needed to be said in person.”
“Yeah. I guess I understand that. Thank you for telling me.”
Her hands came to my arms, and she wiggled, making it so I had to put my hands on her hips to steady her—this was not the time for my dick to want in on the action.
I watched her, knowing fate was forcing us to finally have an honest talk, but the harsh ball of tension lodged in my throat prevented any additional words from coming out.
Fuck it.
“I don’t know when it happened, exactly,” I said, removing one hand from her waist to rub my jaw.
“When what happened?”
Her head remained on my shoulder, but she arched so I could see her profile when I looked down. Hot puffs of air tickled my neck, and my body hunched forward, pulling in as close as I could.
“I’ve been trying to pinpoint the exact moment I wanted you, Emma. It started as a simple crush and never went away. Now, it’s grown into something all-encompassing, beautiful, obsessive, and perfect. Whether it’s with my mind or heart, I think about you constantly.”
I felt her head rise from my shoulder to meet my eyes full-on. It was heady—addictive to have her focused on me, and I used that motivation to push on.
“There was one moment of clarity, sweetheart.”
The word slipped, and she tilted her head, lowering her eyes as a beautiful bloom of crimson appeared on her cheeks. Yeah. I liked that too, babe.
“It was so many small things that built over time, you know? It built a fortress so high there was no chance of me denying it for a second longer.”
Her breath halted, and I removed my other hand from her waist and rubbed it along the length of her back. The dress she chose for tonight looked like it was made for her, flowing around her body like slowly undulating waves. For as beautiful as she was, the material was uncomfortable, snagging on the rough calluses of my hands as I stroked her. The zipper was so close—right there within my reach. One flick on my fingers, and I could tug it down slowly, exposing her smooth skin a centimeter at a time.
I wasn’t sure when it had happened—falling for her. Perhaps between her keeping my favorite creamer stocked in her fridge, and when I threw her legs over my shoulders, and she almost suffocated me with her sweet pussy.
Honestly, I knew it had happened long before that, but now there was no avoiding it. She was mine. Not my possession—I’d never claim something that asinine. My responsibility. Responsibility for her happiness. For her safety. Everything.
“Your turn.”
She sighed, running her hands along her hair and tugging free one of the pins securing her curls.
“Miller. That kiss. This. Us. I—”
She let out a small chuckle, tossing the pin on the floor and watching as it bounced once and came to rest beside her left heel.
“You had to have known, right? That things were escalating?”
She squirmed again, and both hands dropped to her waist to stop the movement. My cock was becoming painfully aware of his proximity to her core and didn’t like to be left wanting. “Do you know how horrible it was?” I hummed, inching my hand down farther until it reached the slit of her dress.
The delicious, soft skin of her knee called to me, and I let my hand slide between her legs, caressing her inner thighs. She swallowed and allowed me access, opening her legs several inches to accommodate my hand.
Good fucking girl.
“It was maddening. Listening to you complain about the boysyou’d date.” I stressed the word boys, hissing the syllable between my teeth. “Those imbeciles didn’t deserve you, and they’d never get to hear your sweet noises.”
One such moan began in her throat and slipped past her lips, causing my hand to still as I moved it closer to her center. “I could make you come right here, couldn’t I? Just with my fingers. Get you so fucking wet, the sounds they’d make stretching you would be obscene. Would you like that?”
She rested her back against my front, reaching one hand behind her to run her fingers through my hair. The movement bared her neck to me, and I leaned down, licking from her collarbone to her earlobe. I inhaled her scent, the breathtaking mix of peaches and the sweet alcohol she drank this evening, assaulting my senses as my fingers trailed higher.
“Holy fuck. Are you not wearing panties? Can I touch you? Feel this pussy come apart for me? Remind you what it’s like to have a man make you come?”
“Oh. Oh. Miller,” she cooed, widening her legs as much as she could in the ball gown.
“I’m right here. Been right here, Em. Wanting you. Needing you. Waiting for you to stop the foolish games you’ve been playing with other guys.”
Her body jolted like she’d touched an electric fence, and she scrambled off my lap, scooting to the far end of the bench, scowling.
“Games?” She shook her head, another pin falling to the floor with the movement. I reached for her, but as I did, she slapped my hand away and stood. Rising like a phoenix from the ashes, she kept her eyes on me and trailed her hands down her legs, slipping off each high-heeled shoe. The silver straps glistened in the low light like stars, and I watched her turn them back and forth—one in each hand.
“Games?” she repeated, tapping her heels against her thigh. “You think that me going on date after date, desperate to secure a future for myself, was playing games?”
Fuck.
“I finally, Miller, fucking finally, get the balls to tell the headmaster and my father to go pound sand, and you have the nerve to suggest that? Do you think this is some sick form of entertainment for me?”
Shit.
I reached again, standing to move closer, but she raised her hands in warning, causing me to sit back down as my shoulders slumped forward.
“I don’t think you were doing anything on purpose, but listening to the aftermath and seeing you with other guys would have sent me straight to the insane asylum if I had to endure it much longer.” I searched her face for something, hoping to see the look she gave me when I snaked my arms around her waist and pulled her to me.
I craved that look—the one I selfishly wanted to be all for me.
“The insane asylum? Really, Miller? Because not one time did you offer to help or tell me to stop.”
“I was trying to be supportive!” I snapped back, throwing my arms up before running one over my face. “I wanted to give you space. Maybe if you had enough shitty dates, you’d see me.” I pounded my fist to my chest, letting the sting center me. “Me, Emma. The man standing in front of you. I wanted you to see me.”
For one moment, I thought things would mend themselves and no more words were needed. She’d grip my shoulders, and I’d cup her face, molding our bodies together and allowing the rest of the pieces to fall into place.
“No. No. No. You don’t get to sit there and be jealous,” she said, relentlessly pacing again. She shook her head, mumbled, then turned and repeated the pattern.
“We’ve never dated. You’ve never asked me out. We’re friends.” Her arms darted between us, and I winced, expecting a shoe to fly off the end of her finger and hit me in the nose. “We’ve always been friends. You never said you wanted more until that kiss, and I would never intentionally do anything to ruin what we have.”
“Of course not. You just let me whisper filthy thoughts in your ear and bury my face between your legs.”
“Stop it. Don’t pretend like you wanted anything more than sex. Don’t throw what we do in the bedroom in my face because you have always been an eager and willing participant. It wasn’t until I agreed to that stupid condition the headmaster set that you gave two fucks about anything other than where to stick your dick.”
Those words cut deep—but no. I’d started caring for her long before the revolving door of dates started, right?
“Oh. I’m sorry. I thought you having eight inches of me down your throat meant something.”
My voice was panicked and desperate, shouting the words in a vain attempt to show her how I felt. Her eyes hardened, and she took one step toward me and then another. Her body flowed gracefully, arms hanging by her side and shoes dangling from her fingers. Walking was nothing more than controlled falling, but the way she moved conveyed so much more than those simple verbs.
“You better stop it, Miller. Stop talking before you say something that can’t be taken back. You know that meant something. It meant everything. You mean everything.”
I sneered. “All the things I’ve said, and you’re worried about me saying something I can’t take back. Shouldn’t you be more concerned that you left before your precious headmaster could parade me around like some prize stud?”
“That. You can’t take that back, Miller,” she cried, raising the shoe in her right hand and hurling it toward me. My fist flew in front of my face to stop the heel from piercing my eye, and I hissed when it hit my arm before falling to the floor. “Whatever happens next, it’s your fault. You selfish prick, Miller Hansen!”
She hurled the shoe in her left hand at me, and I raised my other arm as the heel caught me in the forearm just as the door opened.
A wide-eyed employee in a white button-down shirt and pressed maroon slacks stood in the doorframe with his mouth ajar.
We turned, mimicking one another’s movements, hands outstretched like we were debating between throttling and embracing.
“Is everything okay in here? A guest reported shouting coming from the hallway.”
Emma shook her head, smoothing the material along her stomach and grimacing at the employee. “Of course, our apologies. We were locked in. Thank you for opening the door.”
“Absolutely, ma’am. Please follow me.”
She rushed forward, not meeting my eyes and not grabbing her shoes. “Wait. Emma. Please,” I begged, calling to her as I struggled to grab the shoes from the floor.
“Do me a favor and don’t follow me, Hansen,” she growled, holding her head high and not looking back. The impressive figure she cut was circumvented by her lack of shoes, but to me, she was perfect.
“I’ll leave you to your night, sir,” the employee said, glancing between her retreating form and my frozen one. I held her shoes in one hand so I could shake his hand and murmured my thanks, glad he hadn’t bothered to stick around before heading back toward the lobby.
I leaned against the hallway wall, staring at the inside of the now open room for what felt like hours. Staring at the spot where I had Emma James on my lap, with her sexy-as-sin dress and fuck me heels, before I ruined it—again.
Maybe it was a good thing I never spilled the depth of my feelings—feelings that had been cropping up until it was impossible to ignore that I’d completely gone around the bend and fallen in love. I’d long since admitted I was an insecure dipstick who had daddy issues and clearly couldn’t control his emotions—but fuck!
Damn it.
The way she looked. So open and vulnerable. Biting that infernal bottom lip. She was everything. Fucking amazing. More than anything I’d ever wanted—and yet, the ease with which she walked away made it obvious she didn’t feel the same.
I was a stupid, pathetic, jealous man. Angry and stupid, reacting to the situation with the highest emotional duress because I wasn’t used to her making me feel so many damn things. I’d fucked myself over before I could even process stopping long enough to realize what I was doing. Instead, I pushed her away, sounding like a complete hotheaded wanker.
I really am a jackass.
My watch reflected off the lights in the closet, reminding me it was after nine. I pathetically stood by the door, clinging to the hope she would come back. The only way to move forward—the only way we could come back from this—was if I apologized.
I couldn’t lose her friendship.
It caused a physical pain in my chest to think about losing any part of her, but before we were anything, we were friends. I’d take that over nothing. I wouldn’t survive if we were mere acquaintances, giving each other barely a nod as we passed in the grocery store. I needed her in my life; she was such a large part of everything that was good. So good that I found it practically impossible to even imagine myself without her.
I fucked up. I fucked it all up.
I’m so sorry, Emma.
I made my way out of the hotel and to my truck, still holding her shoes. I whispered the apology to the dark night sky in the hopes she’d find it in her heart, regardless of our situation, to keep me in her life. I couldn’t lose her.
I refused to lose her.