Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Sienna
I wake slowly, every muscle still humming with the sweet afterglow of last night.
There’s a deep, satisfying ache between my thighs—a reminder of how completely Milo claimed me and how often he pushed me over the edge until I was trembling and boneless beneath him.
Stretching languidly, my toes curl into the sheets, a lazy, satisfied smile curving my lips before I even open my eyes.
This is dangerous.
Waking up smiling because the man who spent half the night buried inside me is already awake, making us breakfast… because I know him.
Swinging my legs off the bed, I walk into the living area wearing nothing but his oversized button-down. It skims my mid-thigh, and the fabric smells like him. I like it way too much.
Milo stands in the kitchenette with his back to me, mixing eggs in the pan. Fuck me sideways, this man could make scrambling eggs look like a damn photoshoot. The morning light catches the muscles of his shoulders and back, highlighting every shift as he works.
He turns at the sound of my footsteps, and his face lights up with that almost-smile that does ridiculous things to my chest—a flutter, a squeeze, a rush of warmth that spreads all the way down to my toes.
“Morning,” he says, his voice still rough from sleep and from all the ways he groaned my name last night. “Sleep okay?”
“Morning,” I reply, suddenly shy in a way I haven’t been since… ever. I tug nervously at the hem of his shirt. “I slept perfectly. You’re spoiling me by making breakfast every morning.”
“Someone has to,” he murmurs, plating the scrambled eggs.
Instead of handing me the plate, he steps close, leans in, and presses a soft, lingering kiss to my lips.
It feels like good morning, thank you, and I want every morning like this, all wrapped up in one.
When he pulls back, his eyes are warm and steady.
“Eat. You burned a lot of calories last night.”
“From the dancing or…”
I let the words hang in the air as I take a seat. Milo settles across from me, and his gaze slowly traces over me.
“You’re wearing my shirt,” he says, his voice low and pleased. “It looks good on you. You’ve got me wondering whether we should fake an illness so we can stay here all day and I can have you all to myself.”
A thrill runs through me at the thought of spending the day tangled in the sheets with him.
“Finders keepers,” I grin, taking a bite of the eggs and letting out a dramatic moan. “And don’t threaten me with a good time. I’m an expert at getting out of plans… especially when it involves you doing everything you did to me last night.”
His eyes darken. “Everything?”
“Everything,” I answer, heat pooling low in my belly as I hold his gaze.
His fork hovers in midair as he exhales slowly, like he’s trying to keep control. “We have to leave for the pavilion soon…”
I grin, loving how easily I can unravel him. “Then stop looking at me like you want to bend me over this table.”
“I do want to bend you over this table,” he says, taking a slow sip of coffee, his eyes never leaving mine. The intensity in his eyes sends another rush of heat through me.
The air between us crackles, as if we’ve been doing this back-and-forth for months instead of just days. My knee bounces lightly under the table, pure, excited energy, while my heart races with something deeper than lust—a warm, fluttering hope that this could be more.
Suddenly, Milo reaches across the table and picks up a juicy piece of pineapple from my plate with his fingers. Without a word, he leans forward and slowly rubs it against my lower lip, tracing the curve of it.
My breath catches as I part my lips for him, allowing him to slide the piece into my mouth. I close my lips around it—and around his fingers—my lashes fluttering as I suck gently, tasting the sweet juice mixed with his warm skin.
I swirl my tongue around his fingertips, savoring the moment, before slowly releasing them with a soft pop. A tiny drop of pineapple juice clings to the corner of my lip, and Milo’s gaze darkens as he watches me lick it away.
We finish the rest of breakfast with stolen glances and small talk. When we’re done, I stand to clear the dishes. I’ve barely picked up the first plate when Milo moves behind me, his arms sliding around my waist, and pulling me flush against his chest.
I let out a soft breath as he presses a kiss to the side of my neck, right where my pulse is fluttering wildly. He doesn’t rush but kisses me like he’s savoring the taste of my skin the same way I savored the pineapple on his fingers.
One hand splays across my stomach beneath his shirt, holding me close, while the other brushes my hair aside so he can trail open-mouthed kisses just beneath my ear.
“You’re going to be the death of me this morning,” he murmurs against my skin. His breath sends goosebumps racing down my spine.
I tilt my head to look at him. “You started it with the pineapple.”
He chuckles quietly, the sound vibrating through his chest and into my back. “Couldn’t help myself. You looked too pretty sitting there, all sleepy and glowing from last night.”
I melt a little, leaning back into his chest as my heart does that stupid fluttering thing again. “You’re getting dangerously romantic, Milo.”
“Maybe I just kept it hidden before,” he replies, kissing me again before reluctantly letting me go. “Now go shower before I bend you over this table and fuck every last bit of restraint out of you.”
I bite my lip, my gaze dropping shamelessly to the very obvious bulge in his sweatpants. “Want to shower with me?”
He grunts, his jaw clenching. “Sienna.”
I grin and step back, walking backward and teasing him with every step. “Take that as a no… which is a shame. But I do have three vibrators that’ll pleasure me just as much as you would.”
That does it.
His restraint snaps.
In three powerful strides, he’s on me, pinning me against the nearest wall. He grabs both my wrists in one large hand and pushes them above my head, trapping me effortlessly as his body presses flush against mine.
“You’re making it really fucking hard to keep myself in control right now, Sienna,” he growls, peppering my jaw and neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses, his teeth grazing just enough to make me shiver.
I hum softly, tilting my head to give him better access. “Maybe I don’t want you to control yourself when it comes to me.”
He pulls back just enough to lock eyes with me. The gray is almost entirely swallowed by black, raw hunger burning in his gaze. Then he crashes his mouth against mine in a devouring kiss.
What follows is a dizzying blur of hands, steam, and desperate need.
He fucks me hard against the shower tiles while somehow managing to wash my body and hair—his fingers massaging my scalp with surprising gentleness one moment, then gripping my wet strands tightly the next as he thrusts into me with deep, powerful strokes.
The contrast makes my head spin.
He spins me without warning, pressing my cheek against the cool tiles as he takes me from behind, one hand braced beside my head, the other gripping my hip. Hot water cascades over us, turning everything slick and steamy.
Each thrust pushes me higher. I cry out his name as my fingers scrape the grout, my orgasm crashing through me, leaving me shaking and gasping.
By the time we finally step out of the shower, my legs are trembling so badly I can barely stand.
Milo wraps a towel around me first, gentle despite the intensity of what we just did, then loosely ties one around his waist. He pulls me against his chest with a low, satisfied chuckle that sends a shiver through me.
“Still think your vibrators could do better?” he murmurs against my wet hair.
I can barely form words, but my head shakes as a lazy smile spreads across my lips, and I burrow deeper into his chest. We stay like that for what feels like a lifetime.
Eventually, with a reluctant groan, he presses one last kiss to my shoulder and murmurs, “We should get ready before Ethan and Aria send out another search party for us.”
I nod, though it takes every ounce of willpower to peel myself away from his heat. We go our separate ways to get ready. As I dry my hair and slip into my dress, I still feel him everywhere.
When I finally step out of the bedroom, Milo is already waiting in the entryway. The moment his eyes meet mine, they sweep over my body in quiet appreciation. It makes my stomach flutter.
“Beautiful.” He says simply, his voice low and rough around the edges, as if the word isn’t nearly enough.
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, suddenly shy under the intensity of his gaze. “We should get going. Aria’s been blowing up my phone, asking where we are.”
He nods, lacing our fingers together like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The simple touch sends a spark racing up my arm.
We leave the villa and take the short walk to the pavilion. Milo’s thumb strokes soothing circles over the back of my hand with each step, each gentle pass making my heart slam against my ribs. I can’t help but steal glances at him through the lenses of my sunglasses.
As we near the pavilion, I reluctantly let go of his hand, already missing the solid warmth of his palm against mine. Most of the wedding party is already here, laughing and chatting around the tables.
Mom pulls me into a tight hug the second I reach them. “Oh, honey,” she says, pulling back to study my face with soft eyes. “You’re glowing. The island air really does agree with you.”
Or it’s the fact that I got royally fucked before I came here.
The memory makes my thighs clench as I settle into my chair beside her.
Dad chuckles quietly beside her, his gaze flicking between Milo and me. “There’s something different about you both today… I just can’t quite figure out what it is.”
I feel my cheeks warm instantly.
Milo’s hand finds mine under the table and gives it a reassuring squeeze. I squeeze back, heart racing.