Page 71 of My Favorite Bad Decision
As much as I’d just wanted to remain in bed, being in public with him like this reminds me how much I justenjoyhim, whether he’s touching me or not. That I like the way he treats other people and the way he treats me too. His protectiveness on Kilimanjaro wasn’t an isolated thing. His hand is ready to catch me as I walk down a dock, as I climb into a boat.
We talk about his sisters and his mom’s family in Greece and his best friend, Gray, who sounds like a total asshole but the kind of asshole I’d enjoy. I tell him about Roger, my current and favorite stepfather, and my shock that he and my mother have made it as long as they have. “Your dad loves Roger,” Miller says. “You don’t really think your mom will leave him, do you?”
I shrug. “I think she might have, but she knows that Maren and I would go with Roger and Charlie in the divorce.”
He grins. “It’s kind of cute that you like them so much. I’ve only met Charlie a few times, but he seems like a good guy.”
This is still so weird. That he’sbudswith my dad. That he knows Charlie.
“The Douchiest Man in Manhattan. That’s our nickname for Charlie, because he’s always sleeping with at least two women at the same time, but aside from that aspect of his personality, he’s wonderful.”
He raises a brow. “Marencalls him The Douchiest Man in Manhattan?”
I laugh. “She’s surprisingly mean to him, for Maren, although I guess it’s me and Roger who call him a douche. She calls him The Handsomest Man in Manhattan behind his back but never to his face.”
“I wouldn’t want my wife calling another guy the handsomest, even if it were true,” he says, and my thighs clench. I know exactly how Miller would be as a spouse: equal parts loyal and possessive. He’d demand everything of you, but he’d give you everything in return.
I want that. And with every minute we spend together, I’m wondering how the hell I’m ever going to give it up.
* * *
I donone of the two nice dressesElitesent along, paired with flip-flops, to go out to dinner that night. I barely recognize the girl I see in the mirror, the one with bright eyes and wild hair and kiss-swollen lips.
I walk out of my room to find him waiting in a fitted polo and khaki shorts. “Damn,” he says, rising, his eyes falling to the V of my dress. “Maybe continue lettingElitepick out clothes for you. This is way hotter than what you wore at the summit.”
I laugh, tucking my index finger into the collar of his shirt. “I sort of like the way they’re dressing you too.”
“Kitten, you’re looking at me in a way that will definitely result in you not getting fed,” he says, running his thumb over my lower lip.
I grin. “We can’t have that. Idefinitelywant to be fed.”
He groans and reaches down to adjust himself. “God, you’re impossible. Get in the fucking golf cart before I bend you over that table.”
Which sounds pretty good too, but if I’m famished, Iknowhe is.
As hungry as I am, even after we’re sitting at the restaurant with our plates before us, all I really want to do is stare across the table at him. He has the loveliest nose. I have a childish impulse to say it aloud, but it would sound too ridiculous, too infatuated, for something with such a limited shelf life, and something that is probably a lot more one-sided than I want to admit.
He reaches across the table and runs his thumb over my lower lip. “Have I ever told you how much I love your mouth? It’s like this little rosebud when you’re mad, and it’s like a peony when you’re thinking about something.”
I smile as my cheeks heat. Maybe it’s not so one-sided after all.
The water refills our wine. Miller feeds me a bite of his steak; I feed him several bites of my pasta. Somehow it’s already as if we’ve been together forever.
I smile. “I sure didn’t picture any of this while we were sharing a tent.”
He gives me a filthy smile. “I did. Repeatedly.”
I suck in a breath. “What did you imagine?”
His eyes are heavy-lidded. “A lot of things, although the one where I’m standing and you’re on your knees would have been hard to pull off in a tent.”
I raise a brow. “I’ve tried to offer that several times over the past two days and you turned me down. I sort of assumed you weren’t into it.”
His laughter is hoarse. “I’m into it. I just suspected it would, uh, be over too quickly.”
I take a sip of my wine and sweep my tongue over my lips. “The next time we’re alone,” I say, my voice suddenly husky, “I’m not taking no for an answer.”
He exhales, pressing his palms flat to the table. “I think we’d better get the check.”
