“Better this morning.” I take a deep breath through my nose. “Is that espresso?”
Millie nods as she leads the way into the kitchen. “Full disclosure, I had to watch a YouTube video for the espresso contraption. You’ll have to tell me how I did.” She starts to reach for a cup in the cabinet but pauses. “Should you have some after not feeling well?”
My stomach is still unsettled, so maybe it’s not the best idea. “I’ll just inhale it for now and look for something safer first.” I glance at the clock on the stove. “Is it really noon?” I ask, shocked that I’ve slept that long and that she has been able to keep the girls quiet for me.
Millie takes a seat on her barstool. “You needed the sleep, and we’ve been fine. We made pancakes for breakfast and have been coloring and playing games since then.”
“Can I get you anything?” Opening the fridge to look for something safe for my stomach, I find a large container that wasn’t there yesterday and turn to Millie. “Did you make me soup?”
“I did.”
“Do you want some?” I set the container on the counter and take out a pot to heat it up.
“Yes, please.” Millie watches me as I start the soup and put some bread in the toaster.
While it heats up, I lean my elbows on the island across from Millie. “You took care of me, made sure the girls were well, and made me soup.”
She shrugs. “We’re friends, right? That’s what friends do.”
I let my eyes trace over her, let them memorize every detail. From the dusting of freckles across her cheeks, to her plump bottom lip, to her glowing, bright eyes.
Fuck being friends with this woman. I want so much more.
I want her here every day. I want to finally run my fingers through her waves like I’ve been fantasizing about. Wrap my hands around her hips and feel how perfectly they fit in my grip.
I exhale a deep breath and shake my head. “Oh, Millie. I don’t want what friends do. I want much more than that with you.”
Her eyes flare and her cheeks pinken before she looks down at her lap. Her focus stays there for a beat, and I watch the flicker of emotions play across her face as she tries to decide how to respond.
I fully expect her to lift her gaze and tell me firmly not to say things like that.
It’s the right thing to do.
But instead, when her eyes meet mine, they’re a fiery green, and she watches me through her lashes as she whispers, “Like what?”
The floor is ripped out from under me with those two syllables. My throat goes dry, and I swallow a few times, trying to wet it.
Her teeth drag over her bottom lip, and I don’t know if she’s doing it on purpose, but it’s fucking torture.
I wait for her to take the words back, but she doesn’t. She just lets them land between us like a ticking bomb.
Tick-tick-tick.
She wants to know what I want to do to her?
Fuckingeverything.
The words tumble from my lips. “I want to sink my fingers into your hair and kiss you. Taste your lips after months of wishing I could.”
She leans in, setting her forearms on the counter. Her throat bobs as she swallows, and her eyes drift closed slowly like she’s savoring the idea.
When she opens them again, they’re glossy and heavy with arousal as she whispers, “I want that too.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
My fingers twitch like they have a mind of their own. Like they’re about to follow through with my words.
I clench my fists and force myself to stay on this side of the counter.
