Doing the same, I lay down. Head on my pillow, body turned away from him, a million miles of bed between us. But it’s a very long time before I finally fall asleep.
TWENTY-SIX
Still want to kiss me, Millie?
It was a mistake.
One I regretted the second I made it but she said yes and there was no turning back. The moment I felt how easily her lips parted when I skimmed the seam of them with my tongue, I was lost. I had every intention of pushing my way inside. Fucking her mouth with my tongue until it wasn’t enough for either of us. Until I had her naked. Stretched out under me, my face buried her between her thighs. Her hands fisted in my hair, moaning for me while I wrung every last drop of cum from her hot, quivering?—
Quit it, asshole. I mean, so she let you kiss her. Big fucking deal. You really think that means something? Youreally think that after all these years—years of watching you fuck her cousin and just about anything else with two legs and the mental fortitude to say yes—that Millie Blackwell is going to fall to her knees and thank her lucky stars because you kissed her? It’s never gonna happen. You had your chance and you blew it.
Fuck.
Right.
Which is why I didn’t.
Why I pulled the brakes before the runaway train I was on jumped its tracks and went over the cliff. Because I was back there, teetering on the edge, the second I felt her mouth on mine. Back in that room with her, tumbling, headlong, into something that scares the absolute shit out of me.
Something I’m not sure I’m ready for, but like I said, there was no going back, so I did the next best thing.
I ran.
I woke up that first morning so hard it hurt, Millie’s soft, sleep warmed body wrapped around mine. Her leg thrown across my hips. Her arm hooked around my neck. Face buried in my chest. Slightly parted mouth pressed against my pec and I panicked. Somehow, I managed to extricate myself without waking her up, got dressed and left. It’s been my routine ever since.
I wake up, well before she does, and before I can sayfuck itand do something even stupider than I already have, I get up and pull on one of the ridiculously expensive outfits Millie bought for Allister, complete my hygiene routine as quickly as possible with the supplies Mateo left for me with the clothes, before scribbling her a quick note.
Took the golf cart. Be back later.
Dean
And then I run like hell and don’t come back until it’s late and I can be relatively certain she’s asleep. After a day of too many drinks at the beachside bar, I grab dinner at the hotel’s buffet, before more drinks. Once I’m sufficiently numb, Mateo pops up out of nowhere like a goddamnedjinnand drives me back to the bungalow while someone else follows behind in the golf cart I’ve been taking every day because while I’m not completely shitfaced, I’m still too drunk to drive it.
Doesn’t matter though.
No matter how much I’ve had to drink or the fact that it’s beyond fucked up, I’m hard before I even get the door open because I know Millie is inside. She’s in bed, wearing nothing but a pair of panties and the T-shirt I gave her the first night we got here.
Because I lied.
I’m a total fucking creep.
Limping my way in, I head straight for the bathroom so I can take a shower and jerk off until my ears are ringing and my dick is as numb as I am. Afterward, I brush my teeth while reminding myself that I already did the smart thing. I managed to stay away from her all goddamned day—now all I have to do iskeepdoing the smart thing.
It shouldn’t be that fucking hard, should it?
Resolved to sleep on the couch, I leave the bathroom.
And then I climb into bed beside her and do it all over again.
Because I can’t.
I can’t stay away from her.
This morning, I woke up with a mouthful of hair and my dick, hard enough to hammer nails, wedged between her perfectly round ass cheeks.
And I don’t have anyone but myself to blame for it because when I finally ease myself into bed, she’s already asleep. Facedaway from my side of it, huddled as close to the edge as she can get without taking a header off the mattress. Mirroring her, I do the same. Lay down, facing away from her with my eyes closed, wishing to god I was drunk enough to pass out… and when I can’t stand it anymore, when it’s late enough and I can blame it on being asleep, I roll over and I reach for her. I don’t touch her. I don’t kiss her. I just pull her into my arms, and she comes willingly. Wraps herself around me and buries her face in my neck with one of those soft little sighs of hers like she’s been waiting for me to find her.
So, in conclusion, I’m slowly being driven crazy by my own selfish stupidity. Because no matter how much I’ve had to drink or how numb my brain or my dick is, I can’t fall asleep until I feel the warm weight of her against me and no matter how resolved I am to stay away from her, when I open my eyes and find her face, inches from mine, all I want to do is kiss her again. Find the hem of her shirt and push my hand under it so I can touch her. Feel her nipple stiffen against my palm. Roll her onto her back. Pull off her panties so I can bury my face between her thighs and make her come in her sleep.
