“I have nothing to hide, Mills.”
I open the tracking app and give him the location, which is met with a sigh and a “thank god.”
We trade places in the bathroom, and when I’m finished, I find him already in my bed. He looks right at home against mymountain of decorative pillows, with his hands behind his head and his elbows out. A wicked grin peeks out from beneath his almost unruly beard, making my skin tingle with anticipation.
“Strip, baby,” he commands.
My heart trips over itself. “Where are your manners, Mr. Miller?” I tease, loving this tug-of-war game we often play. “Or should I call youPrincipalMiller?”
“Don’t brat me unless you’re serious, sweetheart,” he warns.
I cross my arms, standing my ground. For now.
All the wind is knocked out of me, though, when he hoists me up and tosses me onto the bed. A giggle bursts out of me, but he smothers the sound with his mouth. But not with a kiss. No. He bites my bottom lip before licking the sting away.
I lightly push back on his chest. “I’m so proud of you.”
“I know, baby.”
I’ve only told him a million times since he was offered the principal position two days ago. “Will you let me throw you a party?”
“Absolutely not. You know I don’t like celebrating myself.”
With a harrumph, I push my lower lip out. “How can I show you how proud I am, then?”
“I can think of a few ways…” He drags his fingers down my silhouette and stops at the hem of my skirt. “Do you know what these fucking boots do to me?”
Excitement flashes through me. I thought he might like my thigh-high black leather boots.
“These stay.” He smirks.
He fumbles at my waist to pull down my skirt without success, so I reach behind my back and undo the zipper for him.
“Thanks,” he mumbles.
“Oh, so hedoeshave manners.”
That earns me a pinch to the nipplethrough my top.
He slides my skirt down my thighs, groaning when my lacy black G-string is revealed. “Fuck, Mills, are these new too?”
Biting my bottom lip, I nod. “Do you like?”
The noise he makes at the back of his throat rumbles through me, followed by a wave of heat.
“Sit up,” he demands.
I oblige, letting my legs hang off the bed.
With his breath tickling the shell of my ear, he unties my top. As the fabric gives, I raise my arms. Painstakingly, Ezra guides the material up my body until my breasts fall, heavy in their escape.
He takes a step back, wiping a hand down his face, his brows pinched in concentration.
“Your turn,” I urge, my breaths coming quicker.
He shakes his head. “I’m just getting started. Lay back and spread those legs for me. And if you sass me, Amelia, I won’t let you come.”
“Yes, sir.” I scramble back to the top of the mattress. As much as I love being bossed around in the bedroom, I really don’t want to be edged right now.
