6
RYA
The safe house hums with the quiet intensity of two people focused on a single mission. For hours, Miller hasn't moved from his command center in the office nook. His brow is furrowed, his jaw set in that hard, uncompromising line I've come to crave. He's a machine when he's working, his fingers flying over the keyboard in a rhythmic dance of code and counter-encryption.
I've been helping where I can, digging through digital backdoors he points me toward, but mostly, I've been watching him. Every few hours, I force myself to stand, to stretch the kinks out of my back, and to make sure we both actually eat. I brought him a sandwich an hour ago, and he ate it without ever taking his eyes off the monitor, his hand occasionally reaching out to squeeze mine in a silent, grounding thank you.
Now, the sun is beginning to dip, casting long, orange shadows across the sterile living room. My eyes are burning from the glare of the screen. I push my chair back, the legs scraping softly against the floor. Miller's typing doesn't falter, but I feel his awareness shift toward me instantly.
I stand up and reach my arms high above my head, arching my back. My t-shirt hitches up, and the leggings I'm wearingpull tight across my hips and thighs. It's a simple, mundane movement, but the air in the room suddenly feels heavy, charged with a sudden, localized storm of electricity.
The clicking of the keyboard stops. Dead.
I lower my arms and turn, finding Miller staring at me. He isn't just looking; he's devouring. His blue eyes are dark, the pupils blown wide until there's only a thin rim of sapphire left. There's a hunger there that should terrify me, a primitive, raw need that says he wants to peel me apart and learn every secret I'm hiding.
For so long, I've tried to make myself smaller. My mother’s flighty comments about "watching what I eat" or "finding more flattering clothes" echoed in my head for years.
I've spent my life hiding behind oversized cardigans and digital screens, convinced that my curves were something to be managed, a flaw in the code of who I was supposed to be. I've felt the sting of being 'too much' in a world that wants women to be 'less.'
But as Miller looks at me, those old insecurities don't just fade; they incinerate.
He doesn't look at me like I'm a problem to be solved. He looks at me like I'm a masterpiece he's finally found. His gaze lingers on the swell of my breasts, the curve of my waist, and the fullness of my hips with a savage, possessive adoration that makes my skin tingle. He loves this. He lovesme. Every soft inch, every curve I once tried to hide. To him, I'm not 'too much'; I'm everything.
“Rya,” he grunts, the sound vibrating in the small space. He stands, his massive frame dwarfing the room as he moves toward me with that predatory grace.
I don't back away. I can't. I'm drawn to him like a moth to a beautiful, dangerous flame. When he reaches me, he doesn't hesitate. His hands, rough and scarred and large enough to spanmy entire waist, slide around me, pulling me flush against the hard, unyielding planes of his body.
“You have no idea,” he whispers against my temple, his voice thick with a desperate, crushing intensity. “No idea what you do to me. You're so fucking beautiful, baby girl. Mine. All of this is mine.”
He cups my face, his thumbs tracing my cheekbones with a reverence that brings tears to my eyes. This is more than just desire; it's a soul-deep connection, a claiming that defies logic. I see my entire future in his eyes—a life where I'm never alone again, where I'm protected, cherished, and loved for exactly who I am.
I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him down. When his lips meet mine, the world outside the safe house ceases to exist. There is only the heat of him, the possessive strength of his embrace, and the overwhelming emotion of being found by the one person who was made to hold me.
“Miller,” I breathe out, my fingers curling into his shirt in a desperate attempt to rip it off his sculpted body. “I need more.”
My beastly bodyguard tilts his head up toward the ceiling and groans as his grip around my waist tightens. “Are you sure you know what you’re asking for, Rya?” His fierce blue eyes find mine, searching intensely for my truth.
I nod, giving him what I hope is a seductive smile. “I want to feel all of you,” I murmur as I lean even closer. My lips brush the shell of his ear, making his breath hitch. “I want you inside of me. I want you to be my first.”
Miller exhales on a growl, his arms hooking under my legs as he lifts and carries me to the bedroom. He lays me down on the mattress, his eyes roaming over my body as if he’s not sure where to start. I wiggle against the bed and hook my thumbs in my leggings, but Miller jumps into action. His hands take over, peeling away my clothing piece by piece, followed by reverentkisses. This enormous, lethal, devastatingly sexy man wants me. I don't know if I’ll ever get used to that.
My skin hums with awareness of every place he’s touching me. Miller slides off the bed, sinking to his knees and sliding my socks off. He massages my feet so tenderly while giving me a fierce look. The combination of his sweet touch and feral eyes has me twisting in his grip, trying to relieve the ache threatening to take over my body.
Sensing my need, he grips my thighs in his massive hands and pries my legs apart. I cry out and bow my back off the bed when Miller presses his thumb over my clit. A sudden powerful burst of pleasure slices through me and rattles me to my core.
Before I can recover, his tongue is on my dripping wet cunt, licking me and nipping at my sensitive flesh. He nudges my clit with his nose and then spears his tongue into my little hole, scooping out my juices and drinking them down.
Then he drags his tongue lower, lower, lower, until it’s teasing my back entrance. I gasp at the filthiness of it all, but the forbidden nature makes me even wetter. He licks around the tight ring of muscles and growls.
“Holy fuck,” I whisper. “Holy fuck, fuck, fuck,” my whisper turning into a loud moan when the very tip of his tongue pushes inside. Miller rubs my clit in furious circles, and I grip the sheets, twisting them in my fists as my body expands and contracts. “Miller, I’m…”
I shatter before I even finish my sentence. My orgasm rushes through me with such intensity, I shoot up off the bed, trying to escape the overwhelming pleasure. Miller shoves me back down with a hand spread out over my stomach. He holds me there, making me feel all of it, every last drop of bliss.
I lay on the bed, an absolute puddle. I’m vaguely aware of Miller standing up and tearing his clothes off. When he doesn’t return to me right away, I manage to sit up on my elbows,though it takes considerable effort. I pry my eyes open and see him standing in front of me, pinching the head of his cock as he tilts his head back and takes a deep breath.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he grits out. “You gotta stop looking at me like that or I’m gonna come right this second.”
