The drive to Millen’s place is a quiet one. I imagine his father’s words are on constant repeat in his head. Similarly, my mind is reeling from the revelation that Lana pushed for the agreement to go ahead and also the fact that there are legal contracts in place. Ones that—if broken—could cost the business a lot of money.
He’s doing this for me. He’s risking his financial future and that of his family business to have a shot at a future with me.
I’m not sure how I feel about that. Not that he’s willing to turn his back on his obligations, but the pressure I now feel to make this work between us. I love him and he loves me, but as we pull into the driveway of a beautiful two-story Victorian house, I wonder if that’s enough. Is love enough to overcome a huge pile of crap that’s inevitably going to be dumped in our lap?
A gentle squeeze of my leg grabs my attention. “We’re here.”
I turn my head and meet Millen’s concerned eyes. “Sorry, I’m a million miles away.”
“Let’s get inside. We can have some dinner and relax.” He reaches out and links his fingers with mine, his voice dropping to a soft whisper. “I want you in my house. I want to feel you in my space whenever you’re not there.”
“You can feel me anywhere.”
He flexes his hand, tightening his grip. “Keep talking like that and we’ll end up giving my neighbors a show.”
“Hey, I’m all for a little exhibitionism if need be.”
He growls and I beam at him. “You’re trouble,” he says with a grin as I shrug nonchalantly.
“And we’re still in the car.” I lean forward and lightly press my lips to his. “Take me to your space. I want you to feel me in more than just your house, and I’d rather have more room to move than your car allows.”
“Would hate to keep you waiting,” he replies with a salacious grin, and after grabbing our bags from the trunk, he leads me up the front stairs and into his home.
Half an hour later I’m curled up on the couch, watching Millen move around his state-of-the-art kitchen. When he offered to cook me dinner I realized that there is still a lot we don’t know about each other. We’ve shared our hopes and dreams, we’ve said I love you, but he’s never cooked for me. At the lake house, we ordered in other than the one night at the restaurant.
So over a glass of wine and plates of lemon chicken, I decide to launch into a well overdue deep interrogation of the gorgeous man sitting opposite me. “First girlfriend?”
His eyes light with amusement. “Are we talking about Jacqui Grey in kindergarten who I kicked sand at because I liked her hair, or do you mean my fifth-grade kiss with Shayna in the janitor’s closet at school because of a dare?”
Grinning, I tilt my head and bring my glass to my lips. “Do you still kick sand at girls you like?”
“I win them over with my charm and stunning personality now. It works every time,” he says with a sexy wink.
“Does it now?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
He stretches out his leg under the table and trails his foot along the length of mine sending tingles to good places. I will not be distracted, though; I want to know the little things about this man. The ins and outs, the ups and the downs—although right now, it feels as if we’ve both been through a lot of those lately—and what makes him him.
“How about you then?” he asks, still slowly gliding his foot back and forth against my leg. “Who was your first girlfriend?”
He gets me with that question, the wine in my throat catching in surprise as he throws his head back and laughs, all the while I’m choking on my drink.
After getting myself under control, I reply, “First boyfriend was when I was aged seven and his name was Kyle. He had nice, kind eyes, and he helped me clean up the yogurt I’d spilled at recess. First kiss was Tyson Newman at summer camp when I was thirteen.”
“And where is the great Tyson Newman now?”
“Last I heard he was a professional stuntman working in LA.” Millen’s head jerks back and his eyes go wide.
“Well I didn’t see that coming,” he says, making me giggle.
“Me either. My turn now. Favorite color?”
“Guess…” he says, his jovial mood helping to silence the uneasy roar whirling around inside of me.
I look around the living and dining area, taking in the charcoal back feature wall running the length of the room and the American Oak furniture clocking it that is obviously custom designed. I take in the big soft grey sofa and the large glass and chrome coffee table. Everything I’m seeing is grey or some form of it.
“Grey like your eyes, the same ones I love to look at.” My words are meant to make him smile; instead they turn his gaze to molten slate.
His foot that was behaving begins to move north up my calf, my breath catching when he does.
“Your favorite color is blue.”
“How did you know?”
“Because the first night I got you naked, your lingerie was an electric blue.”
I find myself subconsciously slumping in my seat, wanting more of his touch, but thankfully—or maybe not, who knows—the rational part of my brain kicks back into action, reminding me of the need to actually talk to Millen rather than succumb to his lustful charms.
“And your house is a cacophony of blue shades from your towels to your sheets to the throw pillows on your blue couch.” His attention to detail and the fact he remembers all of that is endearing.
“Favorite vacation spot?”
“It’s a tie between Côte d’Azur in the south of France or Bermuda,” he replies. “And you?”
“Since I’ve never been farther than Mexico, I’d have to say Cabo.”
His eyes are now soft and warm, melty even, and of all the looks he’s given me, this is a definite favorite. He’s free and easy, relaxed and comfortable—one could almost say happy.
It’s unfortunate that I’m about to kill the mood with a necessary admission.
I drink the last of my wine and return my glass to the table. “I need to tell you something,” I say quietly.
His expression straightens, his shoulders tensing. “Is this a sit-opposite-you kind of thing or a let’s-move-to-the-couch-so-we-can-be-close one?”
I push my chair back and stand, watching him closely as he does the same. Reaching out, he grabs the bottle of wine and pours me another half-glass. He gives the glass to me and grabbing his own, he leads me hand in hand over to his couch.
Once we’re settled, his legs stretched out in front of him with his feet resting on the coffee table and mine crossed over his lap, I take a drink for courage, and with his attention set, I come clean. “I overheard you today, in your dad’s office.”
His eyes widen while his head jerks back. “What did you hear?” he asks tersely, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he clenches his teeth together.
I reach out and put my glass on the table before moving back into Millen’s side, resting my head on his shoulder and looking up at him. His arm wraps around my waist, holding me in place, and cocooned in his arms, I take a deep, fortifying breath. “About the contract, the legal side of things.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to know about that.”
Now it’s my turn to tense, my eyes narrowing on him. “Why not? If we’re going to get through this and thrive on the other side of it, we have to be honest with each other about everything. And I mean everything, Millen. I don’t want there to be any doubt or regret between us and that includes regretting things we should’ve said but didn’t because we didn’t want to make it harder than it already was.”
The arm around my waist tightens, his appreciation of my words evident. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I should’ve told you everything about it.”
“To be fair,” I say with a tight smile. “You did say there was a business contract. I just didn’t think about the ramifications of you breaking that contract.”
“I’ll handle it, Kenz. There is nothing—nothing—that will stop me from moving toward my future with you. I can promise you that.”
“I don’t want you to say that if you’re not sure.” I know I’m putting myself out there. I’m opening myself up and showing him that Millen-sized soft spot I’ve admittedly been shielding since he came back into my life. It may have only been a week and a half, but a girl has to be one hundred percent sure of the man she’s letting all the way in there and that’s exactly what I’m doing.
Gliding his hand up my back, he cups the nape of my neck, pinning me in place, and everything in me says he’s about to rock my entire world.
“Kenzie Sharp, I’d never say anything like that unless I was resolute in my decision. When I left you lying in that bed, all I could think about was you. Your taste, your smell, the feel of your body cradled against mine, the way you made me feel something so intense, so unreal after one weekend. Even though I chose not to come back, everything that’s happened in the time we were apart is all on me. I missed out on three months with you. I’m the one that put us in this position so it’s going to be me that gets us free and clear.”
“Millen—” I whisper, my next words catching in my throat.
“You’re so steady. It’s like nothing can shake you, and even right now when I should be so far from relaxed, you’re here being honest and open and showing me everything that makes you you, wanting to make me feel better when it’s me who should be comforting you.”
He lifts his head. Hooded eyes roam my face. “Just having you with me is all the comfort I need. You make me feel invincible.” He takes a deep breath, and it’s his next words that sink me once and for all. “Loving you makes me the luckiest damn man in the world and I promise you, there won’t be a day goes by that I’ll ever forget it.”
“You make it seem like I’m perfect,” I reply with a small sardonic smile. “I just wanted you to know what I’d heard and although I didn’t understand how hard it would be before, I definitely get it now and I want you to know I’m mindful of that and I’m with you all the way.” I release a big sigh and lean into him, resting my forehead against his. “I love you more right now than I thought I could… or would.”
His lips twitch. “It’s because of the wine, right?”
“No…” I say with a smile. I curve my hand around his neck and hold him in place. “It helps, but no. It’s just you.”
“And it’ll always be just you, too.”