Or rather Dean inexplicably feeling like there’s some sort of comparison between the two of them.
There isn’t.
It isn’t even close.
If I’m completely honest with myself, there never has been.
“Allister didn’t buy my engagement ring, Dean,” I confess quietly. “He picked it out,yes—but he charged it to my account.” Giving him a wobbly smile because saying it out loud makes me realize just how pathetic I really am, I shake my head. “For the record, I hated it. The stone was entirely too big for my finger. It made daily tasks almost impossible.”
Foot still planted on his chest, Dean’s forehead creases while he puzzles together what I’m telling him. “You bought your own engagement ring?”
Swallowing hard, I nod up at him. “Birthdays. Anniversaries. Christmas. I bought it all. He never spent a dime of his own money on me. It’s not like he didn’t have any. He works for my father, so I know…” shaking my head, I give him a shrug. “He’d present me with a lavish, perfectly wrapped gift, making a big show of it in front of my family on special occasions, and then the charge for it would show up on my credit card statements a month later. I tried to tell myself that it didn’t matter. That it was the thought that counts but…” Giving him another wobbly smile, I let out a sigh. “I paid for everything. Pretty pathetic, huh?”
“He’s the pathetic one, Mills.” The hand anchoring my foot to his chest tightens while outside, a trio of resort security guards in matching tropical print shirts, give a brief, quiet lecture to the group of people clustered around our cabana. Within seconds, their phones disappear and they all slink away with their tails tucked between their legs. Even though our immediate audience is gone, the security guards remain, creating a perimeter around the cabana and forcing people to give it a wide berth.
“Are we finished fighting now?” Hearing the shift in his tone relaxes the stiff set of my shoulders.
“You tell me,” he tells me with a one shoulder shrug while nudging the anklet with the pad of his thumb. “Are you going to take this off again?”
“No.” I shake my head, my elbows wobbling underneath me when he makes one of those deep, rough noises in the back of his throat again. “I won’t take it off and I won’t mention reimbursing you for it again. It was a gift and it was rude of me to treat it like it wasn’t,” I finish with a sigh. “Can we go back to being civil now?” Maybe if we can put this behind us, we can still salvage our dinner reservation. I’m sure if I call the restaurant, they’d be willing to accommodate us.
“Is that what you want?” he asks, cocking his head slightly while sweeping his thumb across my anklebone again. “You want me to becivil,Millie?”
Heart taking off at a gallop, I feel the bed I’m lying on start to tilt. My mouth goes dry. The curtains on the cabana are still open. Even though our audience has been chased away by security, people are undoubtedly still watching us.
I don’t care.
I don’t care about anything right now.
“No, Dean,” I confess quietly because suddenly, making our dinner reservations is the last thing I want to do. “I don’t want you to be civil.”
THIRTY-FOUR
After our near miss at the breakfast table afew days ago, I promised myself I’d behave. That while, yes, I’d committed to playing the part of her rebound fling in public, I was going to keep it clean behind closed doors. I was going to build my wall and I was going to hide behind it like a little bitch because fucking Millie Blackwell isn’t a complication I can afford.
My resolve went out the fucking window the second I spotted her on the beach, getting manhandled by the same dickhead I saw stalking her at the bar when she came looking for me the other night. After that, fucking Millie Blackwell became a foregone conclusion.
Lowering her foot to the bed, I turn away from her to makemy way to the open side of the cabana. Drawing the mesh curtains along their tracks, I close them on about a dozen people on the beach who are pretending not to watch us. Our fight is going to be public knowledge by nightfall. That’s okay. So is what’s about to happen next.
When I turn back around, Millie is kneeling on the bed, watching me, so goddamned beautiful, I can feel it in my chest. “Are you ready for your mission?”
When I say it, her forehead crumples slightly. “My mission?”
“Mission… consequence… whatever you want to call it.” Making my way back to her, I stop at the foot of the bed. “You insulted me, Princess—you’re gonna have to pay for that.”
“You said I didn’t.” She runs the tip of her tongue along the curve of her lower lip while she shakes her head. “Last night, you said?—”
“I lied.” Lifting a hand, I point at the center of the bed. “I want you on your knees—right there.”
She hesitates—eyes wide. Cheeks flushed. Nipples pebbled against the thin fabric of her bikini top—but only for a moment before she’s moving across the bed to kneel in the spot I’m pointing at. “Dean—” She turns her head to watch me as I move to the side of the bed.
“They can’t see us,” I assure her while I crawl onto the bed. “But they’ll hear everything so you’re going to have to be quiet.” Kneeling behind her, her calves bracketed by mine, I lean in close to press a kiss against the slope of her bare shoulder. “Do you think you can do that for me?”
“Yes…” She nods, breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. “I can do that.”
“It’s not a big deal,” I remind her quietly, fingers skimming along the length of her spine. Finding the ties holding her bikini top together, I give one set a pull and then the other. Letting itfall away, I lift my hands, cupping her bare breasts from behind, the weight of them in my palms going straight to my cock. “Not if we don’t make it a big deal—say it.”
Like I gave her permission, Millie’s entire body relaxes into mine. Her hips press back, head falling against my shoulder on a soft, desperate whimper while I fondle her breasts, teasing her stiff, swollen nipples. Turning her head to look at me, Millie’s gaze falls to my mouth. “It’s not a big deal,” she whispers, her breath shallow and ragged against my neck. “Not if we don’t make it a big deal.”
