‘Correct, but I can’t promise I won’t make the most of your inviting condition while we prepare breakfast.’ He circles around my clitoris slowly, accelerating the dulling pulse.
Oh God, help me!
‘Miller,’ I squeeze my eyes shut briefly, retreating, my body folding in on itself to escape his inconceivably skilful touch.
He pushes his mouth to my ear. ‘I might make a habit of preparing our meals with my habit stuck to my chest.’
If he does that, then we might not ever eat. My need for him is my undoing and I make to turn.
And go nowhere.
‘Nuh-uh-uh.’ His hand pushes into the soft flesh of my tummy and his fingers walk up my front slowly until they are resting at the corner of my mouth. Our eyes hold as he wipes my wetness across my lips. ‘Lick.’
When his order should probably make me decline shyly, it has my craving multiplying instead. I follow through on his demand, lapping slowly at his fingers while he holds me in place, more with his thirsty eyes than with the firm clamp of his hand.
‘Good, wouldn’t you agree?’
I nod, but I’m more inclined to think that the flesh beneath the wetness is tastier.
‘Enough for now.’ He withdraws his fingers and slides his palms down my arms until he’s at my hands. ‘This could take some time.’
‘Only if you can’t keep your hands to yourself,’ I reply quietly, wishing I didn’t have to go to work so we could prepare breakfast all day.
He lifts our hands and threads our fingers so we can open the fridge door together. ‘You wouldn’t want me to, so this will be a pointless discussion.’
‘Agreed.’ I’m confronted by the contents of Miller’s fridge, noting shelves of neatly stored food – mostly fruit or something equally healthy, and bottled water. He takes our hands to the basket of strawberries, and I smile. ‘Chocolate for breakfast?’
‘That would be extremely unhealthy.’
‘So?’
He nips at my earlobe as he takes the fruit out of the fridge. ‘For breakfast we have strawberries with Greek yogurt.’
‘Doesn’t sound as tasty,’ I grumble, and I bet it’s fat-free, too.
I’m ignored, the slight straightening of his lips telling me to quit complaining without the need for a verbal warning. A gentle nudge of his h*ps into my lower back followed by his backward steps has my feet shifting, mirroring his steps and taking us away from the reflection of the fridge doors. His eyes are glued to mine, scorching my na**d flesh, and remain that way until he’s forced to turn us. We move across the kitchen as one, collect a chopping board from one cupboard, two bowls from another, a colander from another, and finally a paring knife from a drawer before everything is placed neatly on the work surface. Our hands work together, although every motion is instigated by Miller, me happy to let that happen because then I can’t do anything wrong. He’s humming his sweet melody in my ear absent-mindedly, seeming so peaceful, which warms me to the core and beyond. He’s happy and content, like me preparing breakfast to his standards and following his way could possibly be the most fulfilling thing in the world. To Miller, it might just be. He helps me lift the knife and covers my hand with his while collecting a strawberry and placing it on the chopping board. Then he guides my hand to lift the knife and directs the blade across the top, removing the stem. He pushes the discarded piece to one corner, halves the red, plump fruit, and places a loving kiss on my cheek before he pops the pieces in the colander.
‘Perfect,’ he praises, like he hasn’t just influenced the string of accurate motions we’ve undertaken, down to the handling of the knife. But if it keeps Miller’s perfect world turning on its perfect axis, then I’ll happily comply. He collects another strawberry, keeping his chin on my shoulder. The nearness of his steady breathing in my ear as he hums is past comforting. This must be the closest one can come to heaven while still on earth.
‘I thought you could stay with me today,’ he says quietly, guiding my hand to the strawberry. A gentle pressure on my hand splits the flesh, revealing its juicy, mouth-watering centre. I wouldn’t dare do something as silly as sneak a piece, not under my finicky Miller’s watch, so I’m utterly gobsmacked when he collects one of the halves and brings it to his mouth. Frowning, I follow its path, momentarily distracted by the slow parting of his lips before he slips it between them. Only momentarily, though. Displeasure soon snuffs it.
‘That’s—’ I get no further into my objection, Miller’s mouth silencing me. He bites down and juice bursts between our kiss, truly making it the tastiest kiss ever. Miller and strawberry. ‘Hmmm,’ I hum in pleasure, juice dribbling down my chin.
‘I concur,’ he whispers, breaking our kiss and licking a delicate wet stroke up my chin, fulfilling his self-appointed role of cleaning up our mess. It might be pleasurable for him, but it’s still tidying of some nature, so it figures Miller would jump at the role.
‘I have to go to work today,’ I murmur under his penetrative gaze. My body is on fire and a whole day locked in Miller’s apartment, the world shut safely outside, is almost impossible to resist, but I can’t shirk work again.
He kisses my nose on an accepting sigh. Too accepting. ‘I understand, but promise me you won’t venture off on your own.’ His plea drags my contentment and comfort into worry. I’m being followed. ‘I’ll take you and collect you.’
‘How long do you expect to have to chaperone me?’ I ask. While I’m more than concerned by the revelations of an unwanted shadow, I also appreciate that Miller can’t babysit me for ever.