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“Storm’s getting bad,” he says.
I’m beginning to think that conversation isn’t Miller’s strong suit. Which I guess is fine, since I’m talkative enough for the both of us. I ended up opening up to him about stuff with my dad, the way he’s overbearing, how unhappy he was when I went into nursing instead of joining him selling cars or renting properties. For some reason, I even told him how I disagreed with my dad over the way he treated Miller in the Lathrup Park condo deal that went sideways last year.
Miller, throughout the entire conversation, said about two words.
“Yeah,” I agree. “If I don’t get home soon, I may end up spending the night in my car.” I laugh, but his eyes turn serious.
A moment passes between us, and I almost open my mouth to ask if I can stay, when suddenly there’s a huge flash of lightning, right outside the cabin, lighting up the whole sky. The crack of thunder is loud enough to wake the dead, and the lights in the cabin flicker once before going out, and it’s then that I hear a mewl from the kitchen doorway.
I can’t say I’m not scared. I hate storms. Thunder and lightning make me hide in the bathroom, but I don’t want Miller to think I’m a child. But seeing Little Miss Muffet standing there shaking with fear over the storm breaks my heart and gives me the courage for both of us.
Pushing my chair back, I rush to Miss Muffet as Miller goes to the window. Once I’ve got her in my arms, I turn back to find him staring out, shaking his head.
“No fire, by the looks of it, but that big old Cottonwood has fallen. It’s blocking the driveway. I can clear it in the morning, but no way you’re getting out of here tonight.”
Miller huffs out of the living room and down the back hall, as the rain and wind whip against the small cabin and Miss Muffet clings to my chest as I cradle her.
When he comes back a few minutes later, he’s carrying a blanket and pillow, which he throws in a heap on the sofa.
“You can have my bedroom. I put clean sheets on the bed.” He’s half-grunting the words my way, sounding angry, and I’m embarrassed because it feels like he’s pissed I have to stay. “There’s a t-shirt on the bed for you to sleep in. I lit some candles.”
“Oh, it’s okay. I’ll take the couch…” I start, trying to keep my voice from shaking as a clap of thunder and a flash of lightning make me wince.
“No.” He barks. “You take the bedroom. Good night.” He turns away and my eyes start to burn. I thought things were going well, but he’s so hard and short with me clearly I misread whatever my lust-addled brain imagined.
“Good night then.” I whisper as he stands looking out the window.
“Night.” He grunts and my cheeks burn as I work my way down the dark hallway toward the flickering candlelight coming from the open door.
Once inside, I throw myself onto the bed and let the tears come.
Chapter Seven
Miller
SLEEP IS IN-FUCKING-possible.
She’s in my house.
In my god-damn bed.
And I’m laying here on the couch with a hard on even though I’ve jerked off twice in the last hour since, like an asshole, I sent her down the hall.
Why am I always waiting?
“Fuck.” I grit under my breath, fighting the urge but losing, and reach into my boxers again, running my fingers around my shaft, giving it a death grip as I imagine how her opening would feel around me.
My balls draw tight and if I could only tell her how I felt. What a maniac I am when it comes to her. I mean, I finally fucking get her here—
There’s a window-shaking clap of thunder that cuts off my thoughts and lightning so bright the entire living room is lit like daylight.
Another ground shaking thunder boomer, and then I hear it…
Low screaming.
Crying.
Coming from the bedroom.
I’m on my feet, tearing down the short hall and strong-arming the door open when I see her.
She’s in the corner of the bedroom, surrounded by the pillows from the bed, using them like shields with her head on her knees and her hands behind her neck, looking like she’s ready for a bomb raid.
“Baby. Kitten.” I launch myself across the room, down onto my knees next to her. “Hey…it’s okay.”
Another clap of thunder, and she turns into me, throwing her arms around me like she’s drowning, her body shaking as I slip my arms around and tug her tighter.
“I’m here. Nothing is going to hurt you. Ever.”
Jesus, yeah, so again, I finally get her in my fucking house and she’s crying.
Not just crying, terrified.
“I’m sorry.” Her muffled voice quivers into my shoulder. “I know it’s stupid, I can’t help it.”
