“I’ve waited years for this moment, I’m not going to rush it,” he said.
“You’re going to kill me,” I said, frustrated.
“I’ll give you this,” he replied, as his mouth trailed down my stomach.
His fingers hooked under the side of my panties and pulled them down. His mouth followed. As his tongue swiped over my clitoris, I lost control. I cried out his name, and I let my tears flow. The release was overwhelming. Not just the release of an orgasm but the pent-up frustration, anger, and sadness, it all flowed from inside me in that moment.
Chapter Twenty-Four
We lay together wrapped in the blankets for warmth for a while without speaking.
“What happens now?” I asked, eventually breaking the silence.
“I read your last letter to Lincoln. And then we decide what we want from each other.”
“I want you, Miller. I want a relationship, if that’s what you want, too.” Uncertainly washed over me.
“Would we be here right now if I didn’t?” He chuckled. “Dani, I want you to live with me, where we live, we’ll have to decide. However, I want you to give me a couple of weeks to deal with some shit in my head. Will you do that for me?”
I propped myself up on one elbow. “I’ll give you all the time you need, as long as you don’t shut me out, you let me help you.”
“Deal. I want to start a relationship with you without any baggage. I want to be totally honest with you and to do that I need to reconcile some things. I love you, Dani; I respect you enough to know that I need to sort myself out before I give you my all. I don’t want to do this half-arsed.”
I smiled in appreciation.
“I’m not sure after that taster, I can keep away for two weeks,” I said.
“Just think how much sweeter it will be,” he winked at me.
“When do we start?” I asked, trailing my fingers around the waistband of his jeans.
“Baby, I’m only just holding on to my control here, as it is. But I want to do this right. For the first time in my life, I want to get it right, from the beginning. You’re my future and I need to clear some things so that future can’t be disturbed.”
I nodded, disappointed, but accepting his reasoning. What was two weeks anyway? I’d waited a long time for Miller, as he had for me. I could do that.
I drove Miller back to his cottage and his kiss goodbye had me in tears.
“Just two weeks, that’s all. I’ll call you every day, and if I need you, or you need me, then fuck the two weeks, okay?”
I walked to my car and tried my hardest not to look back. I didn’t need to ask what he had to do in those two weeks. I guessed he wanted to deal with his relationship with Daniel, with his father. I imagined he wanted closure for Annabelle and his mother.
The first three days were awful. Miller called me twice a day, but the temptation to ring him hourly was so strong. He told me that he’d sat with his father and told him how he’d come to be put in prison. He was protecting Daniel. Although he confessed he knew it wasn’t long before he’d be put away, anyway, and he welcomed it. He told me that had he not been convicted, he didn’t think he’d have been able to break away from that lifestyle.
He also told me that he talked to his doctor about some counselling. I was pleased that he had decided to do that; his past was obviously of concern to him, not that it was to me. I didn’t care about prison, or the lifestyle he’d chosen, because I knew the man I was in love with was a far cry from that person.
We never made it to the full two weeks apart, and I didn’t think we would. Miller arrived at my house one morning, and although I told him off for driving one-handed, he placed his fingers over my lips and took my hand to walk me to his car.
“I can’t wait any longer, and I don’t think your dad will appreciate me fucking you in his house.”
I laughed at his coarseness but allowed myself to be led to the passenger door. I climbed in, ignoring that he struggled to drive with one arm in plaster. In silence, we drove back to his cottage.
Before we’d even got the front door closed, he gently pushed me against the wall and he kissed me hard. His hand fisted in my hair and he pushed his body against mine. His breathing was ragged and his moan caused my core to tighten. I could feel the wetness between my thighs as my desire for him escalated.
When he took a step back, I grabbed the front of his shirt. My shaking hands fumbled to undo his buttons. Before I’d managed to unbutton it fully, he pulled it over his head and wrenched it past the plaster cast on his arm.
He took hold of the hem of my jumper and pulled it over my head. The urgency caused me to stumble a little. I undid my jeans and let them slide to my feet; I kicked off my Converse and stepped out of them. He lowered his head to my chest, and his tongue ran over the lace of my bra until he bit down on my puckered nipple. He sucked on it through the material. I gripped his head, tangling my fingers in his hair, and holding him to me.
“Not here,” he whispered into my skin.
He stepped away and led me to his bedroom. “We do this right. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll fuck you against that wall, I’ll fuck you everywhere in this house. But I want you in my bed first.”
He led me upstairs and to his bedroom. I slipped off my socks and then stood in front of him. He reached behind to unclip my bra and slowly crouched as he pulled my panties to my ankles. All the while he kept looking straight in my eyes. His gaze was intense, his intention so obvious. He held my hips as his gently kissed my lower stomach and across the scar that blighted my skin. When he stood, he walked me backwards until my legs hit the bed and I sat. I watched him remove his jeans and then his underwear. I shuffled on the bed as he crawled towards me. I saw his brow furrow in pain, at the weight of him on his broken arm, but he brushed away my concern.
I lay and he held himself above me. He didn’t speak at all, just stared. I parted my legs and wrapped my heels around the back of his legs. When Miller pushed inside me and then stilled, he took my breath away. Not from pain, but the connection I felt to him. A lone tear ran down the side of my face as he made love to me. Not once did he stop looking at me, not once did he close his eyes. Every movement of his body was slow and measured.
When he lowered his head to kiss me, I wrapped my arms around his back. I dug my fingers into his skin and tightened my legs around his. He let go then. The slow and measured was replaced with fast and furious. He slammed into me over and over, deeper with each thrust. He bit down on my shoulder and groaned out my name. I screamed out his as my orgasm built. My body convulsed and I raked my nails down his sweaty back.
Miller’s body stiffened under my touch, he raised his head, and with his eyes closed, he bit down on his lower lip as he came. I felt him pulse inside me and I didn’t care. I wanted everything he gave me. I wanted his cum to run down my thighs and for his sweat to drip onto my skin.
When Miller rolled to one side, I turned to face him. I placed my hand on his chest and felt his heart. He extended his arm and pulled me into him.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
We slept for an hour or so, and then when we woke, we made love again. In fact, we didn’t leave the bed for the rest of the day. The sheets were tangled around us, the room smelled of our arousal; it was musky and intoxicating.
At some point during the night, while I was dozing, Miller stirred. I opened my eyes to see him staring at me. He smiled.
“Marry me, Dani,” he said.
“Marry you?”
“Yes. I know we agreed we’d live together but I’m an old-fashioned kind of guy. Marry me.” It wasn’t so much of a question, more a statement.
“Mr. Copeland, I’ve know you what, a year, if that?”
“So?”
He climbed from the bed and walked naked around to my side. He lowered himself to one knee.