After brushing my hair, I throw on one of Ezra’s shirts rather than digging through my suitcase for clean clothes. Something tells me he won’t mind.
His bed is made, but there’s a pile of sheets in a basket on the floor. One sniff confirms they’re freshly laundered, so I fold them while I wait for his therapy session to end. It’s a turn-on, how proactive he is about his mental health. The world would be a much better place if more men thought the way he does. He’sconcerned about screwing things up with Kane, but he’s a sensational father figure. Every time I think about the way he stepped up immediately, I swear I ovulate. Not many women get to preview how their partner will be as a parent, but seeing Ezra with Kane reassures me that if we ever have kids together, he’ll be the world’s best dad.
Exhausted from my travels but too antsy to rest, I lie on the bed and read through the contract and rehearsal schedule Diane has already sent. She was kind enough to give me a few days to get situated before diving in. Though she warned it will be a lot of work, the vibe she gave off during our call set me at ease. I fire off a few texts—one to let my parents know I’m back in the city and I’ll explain later, one to Joey to thank her for not spoiling the surprise for Ezra, and another to my understudy, telling her to break a leg tonight.
I remove the lid from the container of slime on Ezra’s bedside table and mindlessly play with it while I wait for his appointment to end, and when he appears in the doorway, I give him a smirk. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think this was some kind of new sex toy.”
“Honey, I don’t wanna know where you think that might go.” With a laugh, he closes the door behind him.
The gooey texture mixed with tiny pieces of foam is satisfying between my fingers. “What scent is this?”
He lies next to me, his athletic shorts bunching. His thighs look more muscular than when I saw him last; I can’t wait to find out whether it feels different when he holds me down with them.
“Blue Hawaiian,” he answers.
I scrunch my face. “But it’s orange.”
“Orange is my favorite color.”
I turn on my side and study him. “I didn’t know that. Do you know my favorite color?”
“Mmm…” He feigns contemplation. “Pink?”
“Okay, fine. But there are other things you don’t know about me.”
His face is so close to mine I can almost taste the chai on his breath. “I want to learn new things about you every day for the rest of my life.”
“Are you proposing, Mr. Miller?”
With the most stoic of expressions, he says, “Not today, baby.”
Not today?
I clear my throat, ignoring the way the air between us has thickened. “You know what we haven’t done in a while?”
“Fucked.”
I cackle. “Okay,that. But also… would you rather walk on slime or walk on marshmallows, barefoot, for the rest of your life?” I hold the slippery substance up between us.
His face contorts in disgust. “Ugh, neither.”
“C’mon.” I play punch him. “You have to answer.”
He takes the slime from me and squishes it between his fingers a few times before returning it to the container. “Slime, I guess. I still have nightmares from Bea and those marshmallows,” he teases, pulling at the ends of his hair. “Okay, my turn. Would you rather keep playing this game or let me eat you out?”
Stunned by his provocative question, though I really shouldn’t be, I gasp. “You don’t have any patience, do you?”
He trails a finger up my leg. “You’re wearing my fucking shirt, Mills, and I haven’t seen you in forever,” he says, his voice pure grit. “What do you expect?”
Throat tightening and core heating, I snuggle close, my hard nipples pressed to his chest. “Last one,” I breathe. “Would you rather wash the dishes or take out the trash when I move in?”
“Wash the—What?” His smile shines brighter than spotlights on a stage. “You’re moving in?”
Biting back a grin, I nod, barely able to contain myexcitement. In the time we’ve spent apart, I’ve realized that I’m ready for more.
He brushes his lips against my ear, eliciting a trail of goose bumps down my arm. “Would you rather have my cum all over your tits or my cum in your pussy?”
“P-pussy. Definitely.”
