I flit my gaze at Miller and he grins. "Ah, come on."
The shoes fit perfectly and only make me continue to wonder how he knows everything he does about me. Shit that normal people don't know. Like my legal name and my food allergies. It's like he did an extensive background check to learn all the little and big details that aren't quite common knowledge.
I should probably think it's creepy but it's weirdly romantic.
"We'll take those, too." Miller leans into his chair and crosses one leg over the other.
I make my way back to the dressing room and hope the dress I haven't tried on yet is uglier than it appears. Because if I walk out there and it's remotely cute, he's going to insist on getting it and I don't feel comfortable leaving here with clothing that expensive. I don't own anything that costs as much as any of this, by itself or even added completely up. My entire life is worth less than the stuff he wants to buy me in this store.
And I have a feeling if I wanted to go anywhere else after this, he wouldn't protest in the slightest, and would probably encourage it.
But the second I slip into the dress and glance in the mirror, I know he and I are both a goner.
I tiptoe out of the dressing room and Miller's eyes light up like a kid on Christmas morning.
"Zip me up?" I ask him and he rushes over, practically shoving the clerk out of the way to do it himself.
His fingers brush my skin and send a chill over my entire body. Goddamn, I want him to touch me in more places but this is not the time or place for that.
I've wanted him for so long but thought he was out of reach, and now that the feeling is mutual, I can barely contain myself.
"Should I add the dress?" The clerk stands there and waits for a response.
"And shoes to match it," he tells her, not blinking an eye at how the bill keeps going up and up.
"I know a pump that would go quite well with this dress." She leaves the dressing room area and goes into an employee-only area, leaving us alone.
"You look fucking stunning," Miller says, his breath on my back. He grazes his knuckles against my flesh, and it pebbles with goosebumps.
I turn toward him and sigh. "You don't have to do all of this, you know? I thought you just wanted to get me a bag."
He cups my chin between his thumb and finger. "I'd get you the world if you wanted it, Cora."
"Why?"
"Because you deserve it."
"You don't know that. I could be a bad person."
"Being a bad person has nothing to do with whether you deserve it or not."
"You think I'm a bad person?"
Miller meets my gaze, his eyes darting to my lips briefly. "Don't put words in my mouth."
"That didn't answer my question."
"I don't think you're a bad person, Cora." He pauses and then adds, "But that doesn't matter, does it? You already think what you want about yourself. My opinion isn't going to change that."
"It might."
"So if I told you I thought you were the most special person I've ever met, that you're beautiful and kind and intelligent, and that no man is good enough for you, would you believe that?"
My heart stutters. "Probably not."
"See."
I avert my gaze. "Do you mean it, though?"
