Miller’s cheeks flushed. “That’s…surprisingly romantic.”
“Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain.”
Miller laughed, and the sound filled something in Astoria that had been empty for longer than she wanted to admit.
She got dressed slowly, aware of Miller watching her from the bed. It felt intimate in a different way than undressing had—the return to the outside world, layer by layer. Blouse, skirt, heels. When she was done, she sat on the edge of the bed.
Miller reached up and straightened her collar, a small domestic gesture that made Astoria's throat tight.
“When will I see you again?” Miller asked.
“Soon.” The word wasn’t enough, but it was all Astoria had. “I don’t know how this works yet. We’ll have to be careful.”
“I know.”
“But I do want to see you again. I want—” Astoria stopped, not sure how to finish the sentence. She wanted so many things she couldn’t name yet.
“I know,” Miller said again, softer this time. “Me too.”
Astoria leaned down and kissed her one more time, a proper kiss, the kind that said goodbye but also promised hello.
“Get some sleep,” she said. “I’ll call you.”
“You’d better.”
Astoria smiled, and it felt unfamiliar on her face. Real in a way her smiles hadn’t been for years. She made herself walk to the door. Made herself open it, step into the hallway, and let it close behind her. The click of the latch felt final, but not in a bad way, like the end of one thing and the beginning of something else.
The drive home was quiet. She didn’t turn on the radio or fill the silence with anything, just sat with the feeling of Miller's skin against hers, the sound of her laugh, and the way she'd looked in the lamplight with her hair spread across the pillow.
Her house was dark when she pulled into the driveway. She sat in the car for a moment, her hands still on the steering wheel, not quite ready to go inside and be alone with all of this. She felt different. Not transformed or fixed, just…different, like something that had been clenched tight for years had finally loosened.
She wanted to see Miller again. She wanted to touch her, talk to her, learn all the things she didn’t know yet. She wanted to find out what this thing between them could become if they let it.
That wanting felt new. It felt real.
And for the first time in longer than she could remember, Astoria let herself want without bracing for the cost.
15
Chapter 15: Miller
The last tremors were still rolling through her when Astoria collapsed against her chest, breathing hard.
Miller kept her eyes closed, one hand tangled in Astoria's hair, the other pressed flat against the damp curve of her lower back. She could feel Astoria's heartbeat pounding against her own ribs and the small aftershocks still rippling through both of them, and she didn't want to move. She didn't want to break whatever spell had settled over this anonymous hotel room with its generic art and its sheets that probably had a higher thread count than she knew existed.
Third time. This was only the third time, and already Miller's body knew Astoria's like a map she'd been studying for years.
Astoria lifted her head, her hair falling across Miller's shoulder, and pressed a lazy kiss to her collarbone. Then another, slightly higher. Then the hollow of her throat.
"You're going to start something again," Miller murmured.
"Would that be a problem?"
“We’ve already started something twice tonight.”
Astoria’s laugh was a warm huff against her skin. “I’m aware.”
She shifted, propping herself up on one elbow so she could look down at Miller. Her makeup had smudged slightly, her hair was a disaster, and there was a flush still high on her cheeks. She looked nothing like the ice queen Miller had met across a conference table three months ago. She looked soft and satisfied.
