“Miller, they think the special someone isme.”
She didn’t mean to hiss it like that. She had intended to ease him into it, maybe lead him over to figuring it out for himself. But now she had done it, and there was no going back. Even if he immediately tried to sort of laugh and shake his head.
“What the hell are you talking about? No fucking way do they think that,” he said, but she noticed something when he did. His voice cracked on the last word. And he was leaning forward now. He was in the shelter of the menu with her.
All she had to do was nudge.
“Oh, they very much fucking do. Open your eyes. Look around you,” she said.
And he did. He lifted his head a little and peered over the barrier between them and everyone else. Clearly saw the three girls sat two empty tables away, giggling and pointing. Then his eyes slid back to her, while his face stayed turned toward them. Like most of him had frozen as this new knowledge sunk in.
“But the interviewer said you were just my assistant.”
“And you think the general public listens to things like facts, do you.”
“Well, even if they don’t they have eyes. They could see you were seething at me. You had hold of my lapels and were on your tiptoes, what else could that mean but intense and incredible loathing?”
“Don’t make me spell it out for you.”
That got him. He jerked back, as if seeing what she was suggesting. What they had imagined. Though as soon as he did, incredulity took over. He leant back in,half rolling his eyes. “There is no spelling it out. You wouldnever,” he said—so now it was time to go hard. Harder than she really wanted to, honestly.
“Of course I would never, but they don’t know that. They see someone about to heave a man into something and they don’t thinkoff the stage like a sack of fucking garbage. They thinkinto getting his face fucked by her mouth,” she said, cheeks heating even with the caveat she’d set at the start.
But thankfully he didn’t seem to notice that.
He was too busy blushing, too.
And his voice when he answered was hoarse. “Good god, don’t say things like that to me. That cannot be true,” he said, but she could see he was starting to believe it. All she had to do was underline what he already knew—and she had a good idea how to do it.
In fact she was already getting out her phone.
Searching a few keywords, flicking to a few images.
Though even she didn’t realize just how bad they were until she was in the middle of showing him. She got to a picture taken by millerverse369, almost gasped, and tried to take it back. But it was too late for that now. It was there in 4K, enormous looking even though it was only on her tiny iPhone screen, and somehow so well lit it looked like a still from a movie.Romancing the Loathed, she found herself thinking—though if that was the title the shot had to have been from the end.
It looked like they were trying to merge with each other.
She could hardly see where his jeans ended and hers began.
One of her legs was somehow behind his, so obscured that it genuinely seemed as if she’d hooked it around his hip. If they’d been naked, nobody would have been in any doubt that he was right up in her guts. Hell, it kind of looked as if he was anyway. His cock had transcended the laws of four layers of fabric somehow.
But that wasn’t even the most harrowing thing about the image.
No, there were about three other more pressing matters. Like the fact that the knuckles on her hands were white. And her back was really, really super arched. And her face was tilted right up to his, eyes inexplicably half closed, lips bizarrely parted.You must have been in the middle of narrowing them and spitting insults, she told herself. Yet it couldn’t change how a split-second capture of that looked.
It was humiliating in the extreme.
Or at least itwouldhave been.
If he hadn’t lookedsignificantlyworse. One of his hands seemed to be on the nape of her neck, even though she didn’t remember that happening. And it felt like she should remember, because it wasn’t a slight or unpleasant sort of thing at all. His thumb was in her hair; he almost appeared to be gently cupping her there.
Urging her face up, so he could dothe thing.
The one she didn’t want to think about, but had to. Because he’d also almost tilted his head down to her in that singular moment. The way someone would, if they wanted to go ahead. If they were past considering it, and into something else. If they were on thecuspof it.
Though it was his eyes that really hit her hard.
The way they lay on her, heavy and soft as winter eiderdown. Transfixed, it almost looked like, as if nothing else in the world mattered. Onlyshefelt important, only doing whatever this was felt important. Onlykissingher did, because she had to admit thatkissingwas the right word for it. And so much so that it made her heart start beating hard and slow in her chest.
