Exit Stage Left Page 14

  Miller turns me in a circle, dips me carefully while a few passing pedestrians applaud and laugh, our particular magic infecting them with smiles.

  When he straightens up, I step away. “How can I ever thank you for not letting me quit?”

  He shakes his head, hands in his pockets, smiling at me with a sexy little grin I want to kiss suddenly. My stomach tingles, skin rushing with heat as he speaks.

  “You did it,” he says. “Like I knew you would.”

  I approach, poke him in the chest with one finger. “Maybe,” I say. “Maybe not. Probably not.”

  Miller’s blue eyes darken. “You would have,” he says. “If you never met me. Because you wouldn’t have met Bianca.”

  No way is she ruining this moment.

  “It’s worth it,” I say. “Because I met you.” And Aleah. And Piper.

  Miller doesn’t answer, though the clouds leave his face and he’s smiling again.

  I need to change the subject. If I don’t, I’m going to pounce on him and kiss him right here on the street. Unfortunately, my mind is on the possibilities and my question comes out in a low tone, private, inviting. “I didn’t know Aleah and Dae were a couple.”

  Because talking about couples is exactly where my head is right now. I feel like I’m drunk, though I’m completely in control of myself. Not my hormones, no. But of me, yes.

  I really am kidding myself.

  Miller’s hand finds mine, sparking heat between us as we turn and begin our stroll home.

  “They aren’t,” Miller says. “Or, they weren’t. Aleah’s been in love with Dae for over a year, but Dae just came out of a really horrible relationship and she’s been focusing on her writing. They’ve both been playing cat and mouse for ages. So it’s nice to see Dae finally opening up again.” He sighs. “Aleah deserves to be happy. And so does Dae.”

  “And so does Miller?” I don’t know why I frame it as a question.

  He nods. “And so does Miller,” he says, fingers tightening on mine.

  We’re at the corner where we can either turn toward Aunt Vonda’s or to his place. And I impulsively steer him toward his loft.

  “I’m not ready for tonight to end yet,” I say. “If that’s okay?”

  Miller squeezes my hand, blue eyes full of sweet tenderness and soft joy. “It’s way more than okay,” he says.

  I’m surprised to find the loft is actually empty for once, just the two of us.

  “Show tonight,” Miller says. “Everyone will be back after midnight or so, probably.” He goes to the kitchen, pulls open the fridge. Offers me a cooler. I wave him off, dumping my purse on the counter.

  “I’m already drunk,” I say, laughing.

  He laughs with me, puts the cooler back, leans against the door. “You had one glass of wine.”

  “I'm drunk on happy,” I say. This moment feels endless, all soft around the edges. I feel like my impulse control has been cut, my need to hold back from Miller severed by the absolute joy buzzing through my veins. I kick off my shoes as I cross to him. Hesitate only a moment before running my hands up his chest, starting at his stomach, feeling his abs tighten under my touch. “You know what it feels like, Miller?” I lean in to him, slipping one leg between his, resting my cheek on his shoulder as my hands descend again, sliding around his waist to his back, fingers hooking in the waistband of his jeans. “I thought I’d never find it again, this feeling.”

  I’ve only ever touched one other guy this way. Miller is an entirely different experience from Ian. Where my lost boyfriend was bony, his muscles soft from illness, Miller’s chest is all ridges, firm skin over his ribcage, hard pecs flexing under my touch. Maybe I should be feeling guilty right now, but I’m far too deep into these new sensations to let myself go there.

  Far too into Miller.

  I hear him clear his throat, look up to see his nostrils flare, his cheeks pink, pupils dilated.

  “I know exactly what you mean,” he says. His hands rise, slip over my back, one coiling in my hair, tangling there. “But it gets better.”

  I can’t imagine. I press closer, the tight, hard heat under his zipper pressing against my lower abdomen. It’s been over a year since I had sex, since Ian was able and had the strength. I miss it, with a burning desire I used to wonder if I imagined those times we were able to sleep together.

  My fingers act without my permission, though I would have granted them absolute freedom if I’d known their intent. His shirt-tail pulls free in a single tug, my hands under his clothes, stroking the smooth, warm skin of his lower back as he arches away from the fridge so my touch can roam.

  He feels amazing. Alive and real, solid. Healthy. So strange not to encounter a shunt at his side, old scars from a tube to open a lung after it collapsed. Just smooth, hot skin quivering when I stroke it.

  Miller watches me with his blue eyes, jaw clenching once as I lightly trace my nails down the full length of his back from his shoulders to his waist.

  “Riley,” he half whispers, half moans my name.

  “Miller,” I say. “How could the worst of nights turn into something so magical?” I know I should leave, that it’s too soon. I really barely know him. And Ian… no. I won’t think of Ian. Not with Miller so close to me, with his trembling hands holding me, the need in his eyes.

  For me. And I need him, too. More than I’ve ever needed anyone.

  He kisses me without warning, mouth descending, lips parted. The instant he moves, I rise on my toes to meet him, one arm free of his shirt to wrap around his neck.

  Miller’s hands lift me, set me on the counter. My legs slid around his hips, my dress tangling as he brushes it firmly aside, hands sliding up my thighs as he breaths into me, mouth hot, breath hot, tongue dancing with mine as I fight to get closer to him.

  I’m moaning soft, panting breaths when he pulls away. I jerk him back, forehead pressed to his.

  “I don’t want to ruin this,” he says, anguish in his voice, panic in his beautiful blue eyes. “Riley…”

  “You can’t,” I say, kissing his cheek, his temple, tongue exploring his ear as he leans into me again, hands climbing higher up my thighs, fingers sliding over the curve of skin. I wiggle so the hardness of him rubs against me, making me shiver, moan louder, my head tossing back before I can stop it. He’s a craving I need to satisfy suddenly, my mind no longer my own. I will not run.

  Miller’s mouth closes on my throat, travels with haste down my neck to my shoulder as I slip one hand between us and cup him through his jeans. His hips thrust toward me, my fingers closing around him, my knuckles wet from my own moisture as they rub with his rhythm against me. Another moan, my free hand tightening on his back, nails digging into his skin through his shirt as Miller grinds himself against me.

  My fingers fumble for his zipper, the button, jerk them aside. The thin band of his underwear hugs my hand as my fingers descend into curly hair and grasps the thick heat of soft flesh eagerly waiting for me. It’s Miller’s turn to groan, head down, forehead on my shoulder.

  “Riley.” He whispers my name before looking up, meeting my eyes.

  Lifts me from the counter and carries me to his bedroom door.

  ***

  Chapter Twenty Four

  It slams shut behind us when my toes eagerly hook the edge and shove it closed. I’m laughing, breathless as he lays me on the bed, body hovering over me. I release him long enough to run my fingers through his hair, to stroke his cheeks in a sudden lull of passion. I just want to look at him, admire his beauty.

  And then he kisses me and the lull surges into need so powerful I feel an animal rising inside me.

  My feet hook his waistband and shove his jeans from his hips, catching the edge of his underwear with my right big toe. Miller wriggles, the tip of him eager and quivering as he shakes himself loose from the confining fabric. I stroke him softly once before he bends to nip at my ear.

  Leaves me a moment. I’m panting, jerking off my underwear, pulling my dres
s over my head, just wanting him back with me. On top of me.

  Inside me.

  Miller brings a black square with him as he reappears. “You or me?”

  I grab it from him, tear it savagely with my teeth. Slip the cool circle of latex from the packet and guide my hands down his stomach, eyes locked on his. My other hand braces against his chest. I want to watch his face, see his reaction. I love this part, did with Ian—

  I won’t think of Ian. Not while I’m slipping the condom over Miller’s pulsing tip, the skin flaming hot, tight and already wet with his own moisture. Miller’s lips quiver as I slide the silky latex down toward his thick base, my head rising, my tongue licking across the beads of moisture now standing on his lip.

  My hand retreats from the heartbeat pulsing through his thick heat, grasps his hair when I slide my heels up the backs of his calves and pull him toward me. Lick his lip, bite the edge.

  Miller leans in slowly, so slowly, teasing me as I’ve done him. Now it’s my turn to quiver and anticipate as he braces himself on one hand, left one sliding between my thighs, tracing over my skin toward my passion, waiting, anticipating his touch with almost painful tension.

  His thumb skims my clit, exposed and jumping, and I gasp his name. Miller’s jaw grinds as he bends, still slowly, hips dropping, the head of him brushing across me. The slippery latex makes a smooth track over my wetness, clinging as it passes, sending shivers of need through my lower body. I can feel my climax rising before I even know what he feels like inside me, I’m so deep into him.

  I can’t stand it anymore, though I know when I grasp his firm ass in one hand neither of us will last very long once his straining, vibrating heat finds a home where it belongs. But it doesn’t matter, not now. And he seems to agree as his body follows my lead.

  He’s still going easy, going slow. I’m done with slow. My hips lift, demanding, and when Miller slides inside me, his pelvis hitting mine in a single surge, he gasps into my hair and thrusts harder.

  I’m floating, flying, better than any time on stage, better than the greatest dream I’ve ever had. He is perfect, his shape, his size, thrumming inside me to the pulse of his heart and the strength of his passion. I arch from the bed, pulling him closer, needing all of him with me, our lips chasing each other as the thudding beat of my own body burns and rises and races down to our connection, until the giant waves takes over.

  Crest.

  Break across me in their pounding rhythm.

  I don’t want it to end, cling to him as he shudders on top of me, within me, feel the crashing surf turn to ripples and fade away again as Miller sinks to the bed, cheek against mine, panting breath in my ear.

  He pulls back and kisses me, sweet and soft before nuzzling my neck. “Riley James,” he whispers. “You astonish me.”

  I kiss him, okay with slow now as my body sinks into contentment. Until he moves, slipping free, the condom’s velvet surface sliding loose and I feel stirring. Know I’m far from done with him.

  His mouth explores my neck another moment before he retreats to the bathroom. Returns to sink down next to me and cuddle me against his chest. My fingers drift down to stroke his now soft flesh, though I can feel him beginning to stiffen again at my touch and giggle, knowing I’m not the only one who isn’t quite ready to call it a night.

  Miller’s teeth nibble my ear. “I don’t know why,” he says, “but I assumed you were a virgin.”

  I laugh, frowning through it. “Why?”

  “When you talked about Ian,” Miller says. “I assumed he wasn’t strong enough.”

  I’m suddenly sad, nodding into his chest. Only then do I accept this is totally different. “He wasn’t always weak from the drugs,” I say. “And I think if it had been up to him, we would have never slept together. He was so sweet, he didn’t want me to regret anything about us after he died.”

  Miller nods into my hair, fingers stroking over my arm, tracing across my shoulder to the strap of my bra. I didn’t even think to take it off.

  Probably because he drove thinking away the moment he kissed me.

  “I had to buy the condoms our first night,” I say, smiling at the memory of Ian sitting in the front seat of the car, blushing and smiling. It makes me happy to think I can talk about Ian with Miller and not feel any guilt. “I think I shocked him, but he agreed to it. He was in remission at the time. We thought maybe it was a good sign.” I swallow a little harder than I expected to. “It was really the only time we let ourselves believe he might be okay. But the cancer came back, just like always.” That is very difficult to say, making my voice rough, my eyes burn, but I push on. “Over the few years or so we did have sex, I was mostly the aggressor.” At this, I do feel a pang of guilt. “Sometimes he couldn’t.” I shook my head against Miller’s chest. “But I loved him and I wanted him to know what it could be like for us, in case we could have a normal life together.”

  “In case he lived?” Miller’s voice sounds sad.

  I shrug. “We talked about it sometimes. What if’s. But neither of us really believed he’d survive.” Does that make me a bad person? Ian didn’t seem to think so.

  Miller’s fingers slip my bra strap from my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Riley.”

  I shake my head, look up into his eyes. “I’m not,” I say. “I had a great love early. So many people don’t even get one. And I…”

  Miller doesn’t say anything, but his eyes are smiling. Hopeful.

  And I force myself to speak even as my heart acknowledges what I’ve been trying to silence . “And I think I get two.”

  Miller crushes me to him suddenly, kissing me, rough and a little wild. I dive into it, welcome his desperation, drive my tongue into his mouth, my hands pulling at his hair to seal him against me.

  We part, panting, the heat between my legs sending tingles from my hips to my toes. He must see it in my eyes and I know I see renewed passion in his.

  I’m done being careful and cautious and guilty.

  And then my phone vibrates. I jerk upright, stare at my purse.

  “Damn it,” I say, realizing what the alarm means.

  Miller lets me go as I nab my bag and check my phone. I groan. Fall back beside him, the offending device between us.

  “I have to go,” I say. Show him the alarm. “I have to work at 7am.”

  Miller laughs, strokes my hair back from my cheek. “So responsible,” he says. But it’s kind, warm and full of humor.

  I toss the phone aside, hook my leg over his hip. “Who needs sleep?”

  And kiss him.

  Except now I can hear the front door open, the sound of voices, laughter, someone singing. The gang has arrived, or is beginning to. I find myself blushing even as Miller sighs and rolls his eyes.

  “I promise,” he says, leaning in to kiss my shoulder, “tomorrow night, I’ll make sure we have the place to ourselves. All night.” His eyebrows wiggle suggestively and I laugh.

  Kiss his nose. His lips. So tempted to just say screw it.

  Someone knocks on the door, but doesn’t open it, thankfully. “Miller, where’s the beer?”

  Laughter.

  “I have to go.” I retrieve my underwear, slip them on as Miller stands, still naked, and hands me my dress. My eyes rove over him as I toss it over my head, wriggling into it as he watches with hungry eyes.

  I grab my purse, dump in my phone while he pulls on his jeans, no underwear, follows me to the door. Kisses me deeply, arm around my waist, pushing me into the knob. I don’t care, because I’m kissing him back.

  I wait, heart fluttering as he jerks on a t-shirt, reaches for his fly. My fingers do the duty, tucking his hardening heat inside before I carefully do up the zipper and button the top, fingers lingering over the line of soft skin just below his waistband. Miller groans, kisses me again.

  “You’d better go,” he growls in my ear, “or you’re not going anywhere.”

  So tempting. Until a familiar voice comes calling to the sound of another knock
.

  I pull the door open, grin at Piper who stares with huge eyes as Miller and I stroll out of his room. Piper’s gaze settles into narrowed humor as he slaps Miller’s ass.

  “About time,” he sniffs and walks away.

  I don’t meet anyone’s eyes, now slightly embarrassed, though not by what I’ve just done. Only that everyone is watching and has to know we just slept together. Miller holds my hand all the way to the door. One twitch of my gaze falls on Piper sitting with Ruben. Then I’m looking at the elevator, eyes straight ahead, shoulders back while Miller laughs softly in my ear.

  He kisses me as we wait for the door to open, follows me with his hands and his lips into the elevator. “I’m walking you home.”

  I shake my head, knowing I need to make a clean break if I’m going to say goodbye to him at all tonight. “I’ll grab a cab.”

  Miller hesitates. Kisses me again. He really has to stop doing that.

  “I love you.” The doors grind, closing and he’s forced to back away as the panel slides shut. I blow him a kiss, no time to tell him I think I love him too, because I’m already on the way down. I sink back against the far wall as the elevator sinks to the bottom floor, my heart soaring.

  I bounce to the corner, hail a cab. Bounce in the back seat all the way home, singing and laughing, my heart so full I feel like my life can’t get any better.

  I’m still humming when I pay the smiling cabby, when I climb the stairs to the front door of Aunt Vonda’s building. All the way up to her floor and into the hall, unable to quell the tune escaping me and not wanting to anyway. My purse swings in my hand, my feet light and barely touching the floor. When I catch the sound of loud voices, my head comes up at last, clears me from the fog I’ve been in. I catch sight of a neighbor peeking out before she slams her door in my face.

  Aunt Vonda’s is just ahead. A thin stream of light escapes through the partially opened entrance and I panic. I rush toward it, imagining the absolute worst.

  Someone broke in.