Chapter 15 #2
“Right.” Rachel didn’t look convinced. “Anyway, I know you’re off the case, but you did the initial workup. If I have questions about the early documentation…?”
“I’m happy to help with anything that doesn’t create a conflict.”
Rachel studied her for a moment. “How are you doing with all of it?”
“Fine. I’m busy with the Stewart custody evaluation.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Miller made herself hold Rachel’s gaze. “I’m fine, Rachel. Really.” The lie tasted like copper in her mouth.
Rachel nodded slowly, the way she did when she was choosing not to push. “Alright, let me know if you need anything.”
She left. Miller sat in the silence of her office and listened to her own heartbeat.
She should end it. That was the smart, safe play. Walk away before anyone found out, before Valerie could confirm her suspicions, before Rachel’s careful looks turned into direct questions Miller couldn’t answer. She could text Astoria right now: We need to stop. This is too risky. I’m sorry.
But her phone sat face-down on her desk.
The truth was she didn't want anything to stop. Not the sex, though that was revelatory in ways she was still processing. Not the stolen hours in anonymous rooms. Not even the danger, if she was being honest with herself.
She didn’t want to stop seeing Astoria—hearing her laugh and watching the mask slip away to reveal the woman underneath, the one Valerie had called cold and broken. Valerie had been wrong about that, and Miller was starting to wonder what else she'd been wrong about.
If it were just physical, she could manage it. She could compartmentalize, keep it in its box until the divorce was final and they could figure out what came next. But it wasn't just physical, and Miller was starting to suspect she was in over her head in ways she couldn't control.
She picked up the Stewart motion and started reading the same paragraph for the fourth time.
Saturday took forever to arrive.
Miller had tried to keep busy—the Stewart filing, a consultation with a new client, laundry that had been piling up for two weeks—but the hours stretched like taffy, each one longer than the last. By the time she pulled into the parking garage of yet another hotel, her nerves were humming with something that felt less like anxiety and more like hunger.
Astoria was already there when Miller knocked. The door opened, and for a moment they just looked at each other. Astoria wore a simple silk blouse, untucked, and her feet were bare. Her hair was down, loose around her shoulders, and she looked softer than Miller had ever seen her in public.
“Hi,” Miller said.
“Hey.” Astoria reached for her hand and pulled her inside.
This time was different. Miller felt it immediately, something unhurried in the air, a mutual unspoken agreement to slow down.
They kissed at the door, but it didn't escalate the way it usually did.
Instead, Astoria pulled back and led her to the small sofa by the window, where a bottle of wine sat open on the table.
“I thought we could talk first,” Astoria said. “If that’s okay.”
“More than okay.”
They sat close, their knees touching, wine glasses in hand. The city glittered beyond the window, and the room was quiet except for the low hum of the air conditioning. Miller took a sip of wine she barely tasted and waited.
“Tell me something,” Astoria said. “Something I don’t know about you.”
Miller considered the request. There was so much Astoria didn’t know: her childhood, her failed relationships, the years she’d spent feeling like she was watching her own life from a distance. But those felt too heavy for tonight.
“I grew up with two moms,” she said instead. “Nadia and Harper. They’ve been together since before I was born.”
Astoria’s expression softened. “What was that like?”
“Normal, mostly. Phoenix Ridge isn’t exactly hostile territory for queer families.” Miller smiled. “I had friends with two dads, friends with single moms, friends being raised by grandparents. Nobody really batted an eye at my family.”
“That sounds nice.”
“It was. Is.” Miller traced the rim of her wine glass. “But here’s the strange part. Even with that, even growing up in a house where two women loving each other was just…ordinary, I never considered that I might not be straight. It just didn’t occur to me.”
Astoria tilted her head. “Why do you think that is?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because my moms never pushed. They let me figure things out on my own, and I just…didn’t figure it out. Until now.” Miller laughed quietly. “I dated boys because that’s what I thought I was supposed to do. And it was fine. Nice, even, but it was never…”
She trailed off, unsure how to finish.
“Never, what?” Astoria prompted gently.
“Never like this,” Miller said. “Not even close.”
Something flickered in Astoria’s eyes. She set her wine glass down and reached for Miller’s face, cupping her jaw with a gentleness that made Miller’s chest ache.
“I don’t know what this is,” Astoria murmured. “But it’s not like anything I’ve had before either.”
Miller turned her head to press a kiss to Astoria’s palm. “Good. I’d hate to be the only one who’s completely lost.”
Astoria laughed, low and warm, and then she was kissing her and the wine glasses were forgotten as they moved from the sofa to the bed in a tangle of limbs and soft sounds.
The kiss deepened as Astoria guided her backward, their bodies never breaking contact even as the back of Miller’s knees hit the edge of the bed.
She laughed against Astoria’s mouth, breathless, as they tumbled onto the mattress in a mess of limbs and half-done clothes.
The silk of Astoria’s blouse was cool against her fingers as she gripped the fabric, pulling her closer.
They’d done this enough times now that the urgency had softened into something slower, like savoring a favorite meal instead of devouring it.
Astoria’s hands were already working at the hem of Miller’s sweater, peeling it up and over her head with practiced ease.
The air in the room was warm, but goosebumps still prickled across her skin as Astoria’s fingers traced the freckles scattered over her collarbones, then lower, circling her nipples through the lace of her bra.
Miller arched into the touch, biting her lip as Astoria’s thumb flicked over the hardening peak.
“You’re so fucking responsive,” Astoria murmured, her voice rough, before capturing her mouth again in a kiss that left Miller dizzy.
She didn’t waste time returning the favor.
Her fingers found the buttons of Astoria’s blouse, undoing them one by one, revealing the smooth olive skin beneath.
The fabric slid off Astoria’s shoulders, pooling around her wrists before Miller tugged it free completely.
Astoria wasn’t wearing a bra, and Miller took full advantage as she palmed her breasts, her thumbs brushing over her dark, stiff nipples.
Astoria let out a ship breath, her back arching just slightly, and Miller grinned.
“You like that?”
“You know I do,” Astoria shot back, but her voice was already thickening, her hands busy unbuttoning Miller’s jeans.
The denim was tight, clinging to her thighs, and Astoria took her time dragging the zipper down, her knuckles grazing the damp heat between Miller’s legs.
Miller hissed, her hips jerking upward involuntarily.
Astoria chuckled, low and dark, before hooking her fingers into the waistband and pulling the jeans and panties down in one smooth motion.
The warm air hit her wet pussy, and Miller spread her thighs wider, unashamed. Astoria’s gaze dropped, hungry, before she leaned in, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of Miller’s thigh.
“Fuck,” Miller breathed, tangling her fingers in Astoria’s hair. She could feel Astoria’s breath, hot and teasing, just inches from where she needed it most. “Stop teasing.”
Astoria laughed, the vibration making Miller’s skin prickle. “Since when do you like it fast?”
“Since you’re being a fucking sadist.”
That earned another laugh, but finally, Astoria’s tongue dragged up her slit slowly.
Miller’s back bowed off the bed, a broken sound tearing from her throat.
Astoria’s hands gripped her thighs, holding her open, her mouth working in lazy, maddening circles around her clit before dipping lower, her tongue entering inside her with just the right amount of pressure.
Miller’s fingers tightened in her hair, her hips rolling in time with Astoria’s movements. “God, your mouth…”
Astoria pulled back just long enough to smirk up at her, her lips glistening. “You talk too much.”
Before Miller could retort, Astoria’s fingers joined in, two of them sliding inside her with ease.
Miller gasped, her nails scraping against Astoria’s scalp as she was fucked slow and deep, Astoria’s tongue never leaving her clit.
The coil of pleasure in her gut tightened, her thighs trembling.
She was close, so fucking close, but Astoria pulled away, leaving her empty and whimpering.
“Don’t you dare stop—”
Astoria cut her off by crawling up her body, capturing her mouth in a kiss. Miller could taste herself on Astoria’s lips and feel the wetness smeared across her chin. It was obscene; it was hot. She flipped them in one swift motion, pinning Astoria beneath her. “My turn.”
Astoria didn’t fight it, just sprawled back against the pillows, watching her with dark, hooded eyes as Miller kissed her way down her body.
She took her time, mapping every dip and curve with her mouth: the sharp angle of Astoria’s hipbones, the softness of her inner thighs, the way her breath hitched when Miller’s teeth grazed her skin.
By the time she reached Astoria’s pussy, she was already dripping, her clit swollen and begging for attention.