Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
When I opened my eyes, it was to find the bed next to me empty and the sun streaming in through the open sliders that lead out onto the bungalow’s deck.
The view is spectacular—sparkling, negative edge pool, nearly as blue as the ocean view beyond it, surrounded by lush, green landscape.
There’s a hot tub and chaise lounges. The table where we ate dinner together the night we got here.
That’s where Millie is now.
Wearing nothing but the T-shirt I gave her to sleep in, nibbling from a plate of fruit and cheese, a glass of orange juice and a cup of coffee beside it while she scrolls on her phone.
Bare legs tucked under her in her seat. Her dark blonde hair wrangled into a messy bun on top of her head.
Cheeks already pink from the sun while she absently gnaws on her lower lip. Forehead creased with concentration.
By the time I got back to the bungalow last night, I managed to convince myself that I was mistaken.
That I didn’t see Millie at the bar. That I conjured her up out of too many tequila shots and my own dirty imagination and when I found her in bed, curled up on the side of the mattress, hands tucked under her chin, same as always, I was sure of it.
But then I saw it.
A short length of white silk tossed on top of the bench at the foot of the bed, small and thin enough for me to wad up and put in my pocket if I wanted to.
A dress.
Picking it up, I see her in it, watching me talk to that woman by the bar.
Millie was there.
She came looking for me and when she saw me with another woman, she left.
Fuck.
Dropping it back where I found it, I went about my business. I did the same exact thing I’ve done every night since we got here. Only this time, instead of imagining that Millie is watching me, I know she is and when I said her name, I made sure I said it loud enough for her to hear me.
Then I got dressed and climbed into bed next to her with every intention of leaving it where it is. She saw me—watched me make myself come—and knows that I was thinking about her while I did it. That should’ve been enough but it wasn’t.
Still want to kiss me, Millie?
I didn’t expect an answer.
But that doesn’t mean I didn’t want one.
Seriously, Mercer? You had the sac to jerk off in front of her but you don’t have the sac to look her in the eye the next morning? Quit being a little bitch.
Shit.
Throwing on the pair of board shorts, I take my time before making my way out onto the deck. Someone moved the buffet outside, under a striped awning, and piled it high with enough food to feed a small army.
Loading my plate, I grab a cup of coffee, before carrying it to the table, setting it down before claiming the chair across from her.
Sitting, I unroll my silverware, placing my napkin in my lap to hide the fact that while my hard-on has relented a little, it’s not entirely gone. It never is when I’m around her.
That’s the problem—or at least one of them—when it comes to me and Millie Blackwell.
“Morning,” I say, barely sparing her a glance while I spread cream cheese on my bagel.
“Good morning.” No longer able to pretend I don’t exist because I’m suddenly back to invading her space and we promised to behave with civility, Millie offers me a quick, awkward smile before popping a fat blueberry into her mouth. “I’m surprised to see you. You’re usually gone when I wake up.”
Watching her roll it across her tongue, I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to feel it roll over the head of my cock.
Jesus Christ, Mercer. Is that all you think about?
When it comes to her?
Yeah. Basically.
“I’ve been drunk for four days straight, Minnesota Fats,” I inform her with a caustic chuckle.
“My liver is getting ready to jump ship.” Reaching for my coffee, I take a healthy swallow while contemplating dumping the scalding hot brew in my lap.
When she doesn’t follow it up with more pleasantries, I tell myself to let it go.
I was polite. I did my part. Now we can move on to the ignoring each other and the fact that you watched me jerk off in the shower last night while I thought about fucking you portion of the program.
Because I never fucking listen, my mouth is open and moving before I can stop it. “How’d you sleep?”
The question must remind her of what happened last night because her cheeks flush and her lips part just enough to make my cock ache.
Shit.
I’m going to have to ask Mateo for some duct tape and a pair of compression shorts.
Before I can grab my plate and run like a little bitch, Millie looks up at me, her clear hazel eyes finding mine, a slight smile lifting the corners of her generous mouth. “Well, I didn’t wake up to the sounds of my bedmate jerking off next to me, so I’d say I slept better than expected.”
I blink.
Once.
Twice.
Trying to reconcile the words I just heard with the woman who just said them, and I can’t.
I just can’t.
Finding my spoon on a chuckle, I look down to hide the fact that I’m on the verge of laughing.
“I’m at a loss, Milquetoast, so help me out—” Spooning some capers on to my smeared bagel, I cover them with Lox.
“Was that an insult?” Sitting back, I take my bagel with me.
“Because I think it might’ve been an insult. ”
“I don’t know?” She gives me a shrug while blowing a few strands of stray hair away from her flushed cheeks on a haughty huff. “Do you feel insulted?”
Thinking about all the things I could make her do as punishment for insulting me—all the things she couldn’t say no to. Wouldn’t say no to—I want to say yes. I really want to say yes because my cock isn’t aching anymore.
It’s throbbing so hard I can feel it in my toes.
“No.” Taking a bite of my bagel, I give her a shitty smirk to cover up the fact that the only thing I want to eat at this table is her. “I guess I don’t.”
“Then it wasn’t an insult,” she tells me with another shrug. Picking up another blueberry, she rolls it between her fingers, gaze dropping to her plate. “Look, about the other night…”
Heart hammering my chest, I think she’s talking about last night. That she’s decided to face what happened head on, instead of doing what we do, which is ignore the fact that we both very much want to fuck each other. “The other night?”
“Sunday night.” Lifting her gaze from her plate she frowns at me. “Our first night here. You—”
“I kissed you.” Forcing as much indifference into my tone as I can muster, I give her a shrug. “We’re both adults. Neither of us is currently attached. It doesn’t have to be a big deal unless we make it a big deal.”
“Okay.” She gives me a head bob, her gaze filled with equal parts confusion and relief. “No big deal.”
I think we both know that it’s not just the kiss we’re talking about.
“Great.” Setting my bagel down, I reach for my coffee.
“So, what’s on your phone that’s so interesting?
” When she doesn’t answer me right away, I set my cup down and lean into her across the table, jaw suddenly clenched so tight I can practically feel my teeth cracking.
“Is it Allister? Did he call you again? Did he—”
“No.” Eyes widened slightly by my tone, Millie shakes her head. “I mean, yes, he’s still calling and leaving messages, but I’m not listening to them. I want to forget about the mess I left in New York and I can’t do that if I don’t ignore him.”
“Alright.” Forcing myself to relax, I ease back in my chair. “So if it isn’t Allister…” I expect her to tell me it’s Paige or maybe her parents, but she doesn’t.
“It’s Gwen.” She tells me reluctantly. “My sister.”
“I know who Gwen is, Matlock,” I tell her on a laugh. “What is she saying?”
Millie’s mouth opens slightly, but she doesn’t say anything. Shaking her head, she looks away from me—something she does when she finds what she’s about to say particularly embarrassing. “Someone at the wedding recorded my… episode and posted it on TikTok.”
Episode?
Millie exposed their affair by reading the text messages between her fiancé and cousin out loud in front of three hundred wedding guests before she ran off to a tropical island with a tattooed bartender.
I wouldn’t exactly call that an episode.
“I see…” Tongue firmly in cheek, I flatten my mouth to keep from laughing out loud and give her a nod. “And you’re upset?”
“Well…” Her brow crumples slightly for a moment like she never really considered how her episode being recorded and put on display for the masses actually makes her feel. “No, I guess not.”
“Alright—not upset about the video.” Finally giving in to the urge to laugh a little, I shake my head when she doesn’t elaborate. “Then what? You’re gonna have to spell it out for me, Mills—I’m kinda dumb, remember?”
When I say it, her forehead crumples. “The comments. They’re saying—” Giving me a loud, exasperated sigh, Millie shakes her head. “Here.” Picking up her phone, she thrusts it at me from across the table. “See for yourself.”
Taking her phone on another low chuckle, I find the video already queued up and ready to go. It was posted Tuesday morning. Three days ago and it already has over fifty million views.
Tapping the screen, I watch while Millie exposes Allister and Paige for the slimy assholes they are before running down the aisle to stop where I’m standing in the middle of it.
I flick a quick look at her through my lashes and wonder how she can’t see it because watching it play back, it’s as clear to me as fucking day.
Swallowing hard, I force myself to focus on the video.
Watch while Millie looks up at me with her wide eyes and flushed cheeks and asks me if I want to run away with her.
Her father bellows her name, charging up the aisle after her, a split second before I grab her hand and drag her out of the church.
When it starts its automatic replay, I look down, at the bottom of the screen, and read the caption.
We love a Petty Queen! #HEA #BDE