Hot-as-hell dry-humping and nipple play, might I add.
When he feels my body tense with an orgasm, Kai’s hold on me tightens, keeping himself right where I need him. Lifting his head from my neck, he watches me fall apart.
“Fuck yes,” he whispers, mesmerized.
Utterly fascinated, his attention never leaves me as I moan and shutter my way through it. He watches so intently, as if he’ll never see me come again and needs to commit it to memory, but fuck, if this is how my body responds to his with our clothes on, I need to know what it feels like to touch him without.
Chest heaving, my entire body slumps as I come down, tired muscles falling limp and thankful that he’s holding me upright. Catching my breath, I fall onto his shoulder, mindlessly playing with the dark hair on the nape of his neck. My body absent-mindedly rubs against his, still on edge from my high when I feel his erection slide against my inner thigh.
I cup him, stroking my hand over his length and ready for everything else.
“Miller.” His voice is ragged, desperate. “Stop.”
What?
Lifting from his shoulder, my breaths are still labored when my eyes find the bulge in his briefs that I know has got to be borderline painful at this point. “But—”
“Please.” His ice-blue eyes are pleading with me. “All I can think about is fucking you right now, but you’re out of your goddamn mind if you think any of this could be easily forgettable for me.” He shakes his head, running a palm over his disbelieving face. “I think I’m ruined by simply watching you come, so please, do me a favor and go to bed.” Fixing my shirt, he gives me one last quick kiss. “And for the love of God . . . lock the fucking door.”
Chapter 22
Kai
My start this week is tomorrow night in Boston. We got into the city this afternoon and Isaiah immediately took Max and all his stuff, declaring he was having a sleepover with his nephew tonight.
Even though I strive to spend as much of my time off with my son, it’s good for us both that he creates his own relationships, especially with the people who will be in his life forever.
So, with my evening free, I knock on the door between my hotel room and Miller’s. Bouncing on my toes, nerves rattle through me because it’s been a couple of days since we’ve really spoken.
Well, other than the night following our moment in the kitchen. I hadn’t talked to her all day, so she snuck back into her van that night to sleep. Ten minutes later, I barged in, threw her over my shoulder, and put her ass right back in my guest room, reminding her she wasn’t allowed to sleep outside anymore.
For once, I had someone there to celebrate the good moments with me. When Max took his first steps, she was there. And then that evening, with my friends, she fit in seamlessly. And sure, there were some ulterior motives to that dinner.
When the time comes, I want it to be hard for Miller to leave and not just because I’ve enjoyed having her here, but because it’s one of the most important parts of life. Finding people that make your heart ache when they’re not around. Having a place to call home.
Instead of Miller being the one to get lost in the fantasy of her sticking around Chicago, I was the one who did. In what world am I supposed to simply be okay with her leaving?
How the hell am I supposed to forget what her laugh sounds like? What her lips taste like?
I want her. Fuck, do I want her. Any sane, straight man would jump at the opportunity of having her as an unattached fuck buddy the way she wants, but my brain forgot how to do casual all the while my dick is praying I’ll remember.
So yeah, I’m mad at myself because I don’t understand how to have her while knowing that one day soon, I’ll have to let her leave. And instead of growing up and telling her that, I’ve resorted to avoidance.
I knock on our adjoining door once again, but she still doesn’t answer.
I try her phone with no luck.
Finding both Monty and Kennedy’s contacts, I individually shoot them the same text.
Kennedy and Miller seem on the brink of becoming friends regardless that she likes to assume she doesn’t have any. I can see how excited Miller gets anytime Kennedy is around. She’s the only other woman on the road with us, so maybe they’re hanging out now?
Me: Happen to know where Miller is?
Kennedy: No, but your brother won’t stop sending me selfies of him and Max, asking if I want to come over and play house with him.
She forwards me a couple of the images of my brother and son on the floor, playing with toys. The pictures are clearly Isaiah’s newest form of a thirst trap. His playboy thing has never done it for Kennedy, so I guess he’s going with the family man route and seeing if that lands.
Me: Want me to tell him to leave you alone?
Kennedy: I’ve got it handled. I’ve been dealing with your brother for years. When it comes to Isaiah Rhodes, my favorite thing to do is to humble him.
Me: Have fun with that.
Kennedy: I always do.
In a separate text thread, Monty responds.
Monty: Why?
Me: Weird answer. Is she with you?
Monty: What are your intentions with my daughter?
Okay, he’s definitely with Miller. Grabbing my hotel key, I leave my room and head towards his.
Me: This new overprotective dad thing doesn’t track. She lives in a van, and you’re cool with it. She travels all over the country alone for work. No way are my intentions your greatest concern when it comes to her.
Monty: I’m asking a simple question here. So defensive, Ace. I’ve already caught you in bed with her once. Anything else I should know?
Fucking hell.
Taking a few turns down the hallway on our floor, I find Monty’s room and knock.
“Yes?” he asks, cracking the door only slightly.
“Miller here?”
“Anything you’re wanting to tell me?”
“Dad, stop,” I hear Miller scold from the background. With her hand around the door, she opens it fully, exposing her pretty brunette hair and olive-green overalls. “He’s been like this all day.”
“That’s because you two have been acting like strangers. Something clearly happened.”
Well . . . shit.
Miller ignores him, her eyes tracing my clothes, fully dressed and ready to leave the hotel. “What’s up? Need help with Max?”
“No, he’s with Isaiah tonight, but I was wondering . . .” My eyes flit to Monty standing behind his daughter, big arms crossed over his chest. He uses two fingers to point to his eyes before directing them my way, telling me he’s watching me. “Can you fucking stop? This is weird, Monty.”
Miller whips around, but he plays it completely cool. “I have no idea what he’s talking about.”
I roll my eyes, redirecting them towards the tattooed beauty. “I was wondering if you wanted to go somewhere with me.”
“Where?”
“It’s a surprise.”
Her greens sparkle. “Baseball Daddy, are you propositioning me to have some fun?”
“Something like that.”
Miller turns back to her dad. “Do you mind?”
“Have her back by curfew.”
Her eyes narrow. “In what fucking world would I have a curfew? I wasn’t asking for permission. Stop being weird. I was just asking if you mind if I don’t finish our movie.”
“Nine p.m. sharp,” is Monty’s only response.
We’re both exhausted of him. “It’s already nine-thirty.”
Grabbing her denim jacket from the couch, Miller pats her dad’s arm. “You should probably rehearse that for next time. I’m sure you could do better.”
The typical smile he wears around his daughter finally cracks through. “I’ve always wanted to play the overbearing dad watching his daughter leave for a date. What would make it more believable next time?”
“I’m not sure, I’ve never had one.” Leaving the hotel room, she offers her dad a quick wave. “See you tomorrow.”
“Love you, Millie.”
“Love you.”