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CHAPTER 8
Denise
After the day I spent,mostly in my bedroom with Miller, I had a full day ahead of me. I went to my morning classes and daydreamed of Miller’s lips on mine. Then went into the diner, and went through the motions, all the while recalling how amazing it felt to have the weight of his body on mine.
I called him and asked if he wanted to catch a bite after my shift.
As the evening draws to a close, Miller and I linger outside The French Table, the restaurant where we had a pseudo date after one of my shifts. The air is cool and crisp, a gentle breeze rustles through the trees, carrying with it the faint scent of flowers in bloom.
For a moment, we stand in comfortable silence, our laughter from dinner tonight lingering in the surrounding air. There’s also a sense of warmth between us as our connection has grown stronger with each passing moment that we’ve shared.
With a shy smile, I break the silence, my voice soft and hesitant.
“Thank you for tonight,” I say. “I had a wonderful time.”
He returns my smile. “The pleasure was all mine,” he replies. “I’m glad we could get together before I have to head out of town for work.”
We stand there, bathed in the soft glow of the streetlights, a sense of anticipation hanging in the air between us.
With a burst of courage, I move into him, making the first move with my heart pounding in my chest.
“I don’t want the night to end,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.
His breath catches in his throat as he looks into my eyes. Without a word, he reaches out, his hand finding mine. Without a word spoken between us, he leans in and wraps me in his arms. Our lips meet and time stands still, the people on the street walking around us falling away as we lose ourselves in the intoxicating taste of one another.
The sleek black town car smoothly moves through the city streets, while an unmistakable sexual tension fills the air inside. I sit beside him, my heart racing with anticipation, my mind whirling with a mix of excitement and nervousness.
I’m not sure why. We’ve been alone together before, except this time, we’re going back to his place with the intent of something more.
His hand is on my knee, tracing imaginary lines. I steal a glance at Miller out of the corner of my eye, and my cheeks flush as I catch his gaze. Desire fills his dark eyes, while restraint tightens his clenched jaw, concealing the simmering passion within.
I turn my head, and our eyes lock. Silent communication speaks volumes as we refrain from jumping one another in this backseat.
The hum of the car’s engine is the only sound in the darkness, a steady rhythm that seems to echo the pounding of my heart. I can feel the heat radiating off of him beside me. His presence is a magnetic force that draws me in, leaving me breathless and dizzy with desire.
As we draw closer to his building, the tension reaches its breaking point, teetering on the edge of something explosive and uncontrollable. As soon as the car comes to a stop outside of the entrance to his building, he opens grabs my hand, opens the door, and pulls me out of the car.
My body falls into his.
With a shaky breath, and parted lips, my eyes search his and I find raw, unbridled desire, burning bright in the depths of his gaze.
This is the moment that we both know that there’s no turning back, as he leads me to the elevator and pushes in his code.
As we step inside the penthouse together, the tension that has been simmering between us, finally explodes, engulfing us in a blaze of desire that will burn bright as we make our way down the hallway to his bedroom with the four-poster bed takes center stage.
We kiss. And while we kiss, we make haste by removing our clothing down to our underwear and breaking it apart for mere seconds at a time. The back of his knees hit the bed, and I push him down and climb atop him.
Underneath me, I feel how hard he is and press my body into him while his hand reaches us and pulls me down, our mouths crashing. Our tongues meet, dance, and suckle on the passion that has been building up between us all night.
I could spend the entire night kissing him. The way he kisses me, it feels like it’s the only thing on his mind. Except, it’s not.
“Who taught you how to kiss?” I pull away and smile.
“Kissers aren’t made. They’re born.” He grins.
His hand moves down from cradling my head to down grazing my body, cupping my breast, before he reaches around it and unsnaps my bra. He pulls my body against his, our bare chests pressed against one another, as he rolls us, so he is hovering over me. My nails dig into the skin of his back and drag down to his sides.
“Rushing is not my intention. We can stop now if you want,” he whispers.
