Fuck it.
“I don’t know when it happened, exactly,” I said, removing one hand from her waist to rub my jaw.
“When what happened?”
Her head remained on my shoulder, but she arched so I could see her profile when I looked down. Hot puffs of air tickled my neck, and my body hunched forward, pulling in as close as I could.
“I’ve been trying to pinpoint the exact moment I wanted you, Emma. It started as a simple crush and never went away. Now, it’s grown into something all-encompassing, beautiful, obsessive, and perfect. Whether it’s with my mind or heart, I think about you constantly.”
I felt her head rise from my shoulder to meet my eyes full-on. It was heady—addictive to have her focused on me, and I used that motivation to push on.
“There was one moment of clarity, sweetheart.”
The word slipped, and she tilted her head, lowering her eyes as a beautiful bloom of crimson appeared on her cheeks.Yeah. I liked that too, babe.
“It was so many small things that built over time, you know? It built a fortress so high there was no chance of me denying it for a second longer.”
Her breath halted, and I removed my other hand from her waist and rubbed it along the length of her back. The dress she chose for tonight looked like it was made for her, flowing around her body like slowly undulating waves. For as beautiful as she was, the material was uncomfortable, snagging on the rough calluses of my hands as I stroked her. The zipper was so close—right there within my reach. One flick on my fingers, and I couldtug it down slowly, exposing her smooth skin a centimeter at a time.
I wasn’t sure when it had happened—falling for her. Perhaps between her keeping my favorite creamer stocked in her fridge, and when I threw her legs over my shoulders, and she almost suffocated me with her sweet pussy.
Honestly, I knew it had happened long before that, but now there was no avoiding it. She was mine. Not my possession—I’d never claim something that asinine. My responsibility. Responsibility for her happiness. For her safety. Everything.
“Your turn.”
She sighed, running her hands along her hair and tugging free one of the pins securing her curls.
“Miller. That kiss. This. Us. I—”
She let out a small chuckle, tossing the pin on the floor and watching as it bounced once and came to rest beside her left heel.
“You had to have known, right? That things were escalating?”
She squirmed again, and both hands dropped to her waist to stop the movement. My cock was becoming painfully aware of his proximity to her core and didn’t like to be left wanting. “Do you know how horrible it was?” I hummed, inching my hand down farther until it reached the slit of her dress.
The delicious, soft skin of her knee called to me, and I let my hand slide between her legs, caressing her inner thighs. She swallowed and allowed me access, opening her legs several inches to accommodate my hand.
Good fucking girl.
“It was maddening. Listening to you complain about the boysyou’d date.” I stressed the wordboys, hissing the syllable between my teeth. “Those imbeciles didn’t deserve you, and they’d never get to hear your sweet noises.”
One such moan began in her throat and slipped past her lips, causing my hand to still as I moved it closer to her center. “I could make you come right here, couldn’t I? Just with my fingers. Get you so fucking wet, the sounds they’d make stretching you would be obscene. Would you like that?”
She rested her back against my front, reaching one hand behind her to run her fingers through my hair. The movement bared her neck to me, and I leaned down, licking from her collarbone to her earlobe. I inhaled her scent, the breathtaking mix of peaches and the sweet alcohol she drank this evening, assaulting my senses as my fingers trailed higher.
“Holy fuck. Are you not wearing panties? Can I touch you? Feel this pussy come apart for me? Remind you what it’s like to have a man make you come?”
“Oh. Oh. Miller,” she cooed, widening her legs as much as she could in the ball gown.
“I’m right here. Been right here, Em. Wanting you. Needing you. Waiting for you to stop the foolish games you’ve been playing with other guys.”
Her body jolted like she’d touched an electric fence, and she scrambled off my lap, scooting to the far end of the bench, scowling.
“Games?” She shook her head, another pin falling to the floor with the movement. I reached for her, but as I did, she slapped my hand away and stood. Rising like a phoenix from the ashes, she kept her eyes on me and trailed her hands down her legs, slipping off each high-heeled shoe. The silver straps glistened in the low light like stars, and I watched her turn them back and forth—one in each hand.
“Games?” she repeated, tapping her heels against her thigh. “You think that me going on date after date, desperate to secure a future for myself, was playing games?”
Fuck.
