Page 88 of My Favorite Bad Decision
“That was ridiculous,” I say as we step onto the elevator.
He pushes my back to the wall and kisses me hard, as if we were apart for a very long time.
The elevator arrives on my floor, and he ushers me off. “Buck looked down your dress the whole fucking night, and you never tried to stop him.”
“I didn’t realize you and I were at the stage where I stopped letting other men get a good look at my tits,” I reply as I open the door.
He doesn’t even give me time to turn on the lights. His hand fists my hair as he leads me to the counter, guided by moonlight.
“Bend over, Kitten,” he growls.
I do as I’m told, now slippery and swollen with want. He could demand anything of me and I’d agree to it.
“Whose ponytail holder was on your nightstand?” I demand.
He stiffens for a millisecond. “You’re bothered by a fucking ponytail holder? You’re carrying a guy’s ashes in yourpurse.”
His hand slides between my thighs, pushing my panties to the side so he can play there for a moment, sliding down my center—torturously slow—before he presses two fingers inside me, and then does it again.
“Please,” I whisper. “Please.Fuck.” He’s using both hands now. My palms press flat to the counter, needing to hold onto something.
“You look so good like this, Kitten,” he hisses. “With that perfect ass in the air and your legs shaking.”
“Fuck me,” I plead.
He laughs. “Oh no—you ran your smart little mouth once too often tonight. I’m going to take my time with this. You’re going to drench my hand before I finally give you what you want.”
My knees wobble. “Miller,” I beg. And then it hits me and all I can do is whimper, biting my lower lip to keep my sounds in as I come.
I’m still coming when the sound of a zipper lowering hits my ears. “Spread,” he demands, forcing me to widen my legs, and then he slams into me. There’s nothing gentle about it—nothing considerate. He’s barely begun and I already feel as if I’m going to come again.
I gasp and he bends low, his mouth against my ear, his left hand covering mine, his right hand between my legs. “You love baiting me, don’t you, Kit?”
“You love it too,” I gasp. “Don’t act like it’s all me.”
“Yeah,” he grunts. “I always have.”
* * *
I’ve comethree times before we’re finally at the cuddling-in-bed stage of the evening. I sort of feel like we just had our first fight, but I’m not even sure what it was about. The ponytail holder? The ashes? Buck looking down my shirt? I really have no idea. But I was mad, and I think he was mad, and now neither of us are.
“So, how much does my dad know?” I ask.
Miller’s arms tighten, as if he suspects the answer will make me bolt. “He hasn’t heard anything from me,” Miller says. “But Kit…you did go away with me for four days. He’s a smart guy. I imagine he’s made some assumptions.”
“Well, I don’t know what he thought that dinner would accomplish, but it definitely didn’t?—”
I’m interrupted by my ringing phone. I don’t know why I jump out of bed to grab it. Perhaps because this whole situation feels like a grenade is in our hands, and Miller’s appearance at dinner was the slow slide of the pin.
Or perhaps it’s because there’s a fifty percent chance that at least one member of my family watched me and Miller tonight and figured us out.
“Kit, I’m coming up,” sobs Maren. I hear thedingof an elevator.
“You’re coming uphere? Inmybuilding?” I shout, looking toward Miller.
His eyes widen and he jumps from the bed, pulling on his khakis.
“I’m going to ask Harvey for a divorce,” she sobs.
