by RC Boldt
Miller didn’t miss the fact that these weren’t spoken as questions but as statements. And it was all true. Which didn’t make it sting any less.
Letting out a long sigh, his voice was quiet when he replied, “Yeah.”
The two of them sat there in silence for a long moment as Miller was lost in his own thoughts.
Finally, Kane broke the silence. “So what’s your plan for overcoming that?”
Pressing his lips together firmly, Miller stared down at the photo on his phone screen long after it had timed out, the screen going dim.
He never answered Kane. Because the truth was, he had no fucking clue.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
MILLER WAS PICKING HER Up from the airport and she couldn’t wait to see him. As cheesy as it was, she’d always wanted to have that special person waiting for her in the airport. The stereotypical girl went running into the arms of the guy and he scooped her up in an embrace and promptly kissed the hell out of her.
Regardless, it didn’t make her heartbeat speed up any less when she spotted him waiting for her at the baggage claim. And, holy hell, the man looked good enough to eat. Standing against one of the pillars, hands stuffed in the pockets of a pair of worn, light denim jeans, he was wearing a plain, black cotton shirt which accentuated his strong, muscular torso and biceps that she was itching to get her hands on. As if feeling her gaze on him, he glanced over and caught her eyes, lips turning up into a smile.
But it wasn’t just any smile. No. Tate swore it was a private, sexy smile. One reserved for her. The way his eyes canvassed over her before returning to meet her gaze, those blue eyes darkening with heat, made her feet quicken in haste to reach him. When she finally stopped before him, nearly toe to toe, she suddenly felt a hint of hesitance paired with nervousness. Miller, however, extinguished that instantly as he swept her up, arms wrapping around her securely. And she felt like she was … home.
“I missed you, T.” His voice was husky, intimate.
“I missed you more.” She grinned up at him. “Now, where’s my kiss?” She barely got the last word out before his lips crashed down on hers. And, God, was it a kiss. So sweet, tender, and hot all at once. His lips hovered over hers as he broke the kiss to speak quietly, his hot, minty breath washing over. “You need to hurry up and get your bag so we can head home.”
Home.
There was nothing that could detract from the joy brought on from Miller saying that one word.
Home.
Because that was one thing she had always wanted—and dreamed of having—with Miller Vaughn.
* * *
“Hey, uh, you just missed the turn for my place.” Miller felt Tate’s confused gaze upon him but he couldn’t look over at her. Had to concentrate on getting them back to his place. Because hell, when he’d looked over and had seen her walking toward him, he’d felt like he’d been sucker punched in the gut.
She wasn’t wearing anything special; just a pair of black yoga pants and a zip up hoodie over a fitted T-shirt and plain black flip flops on her feet. He figured she must have changed at some point into the lighter clothes before her connecting flight from Charleston to Jacksonville. She wasn’t dressed much different from any of the other travelers who had passed by him as he’d waited. Except that it was Tate Donnelly. And the moment their eyes had met, her smile had lit up her entire face, making her look even more gorgeous than usual. And he swore that his heart began to beat even faster as if to try and tell him, She’s the one. She’s the one, Vaughn.
“Miller?” Her question drew him from his thoughts.
“I’m taking you home with me.” He tossed a quick glance her way before returning his attention to the road. “If that’s okay, of course.” Shit. He should’ve asked beforehand.
“Okay,” came her soft spoken response before she added, “I get to have my way with you, right?”
A laugh burst forth. “Hell yes, T.” He reached over to hold her hand, linking their fingers. “Hell yes.”
As he pulled the Jeep into the driveway, what he saw there made him release a curse. Tate glanced over at him.
“What’s wrong?”
Grimacing, he shook his head. “Kane was supposed to be gone. He knew I wanted to bring you home.”
She studied him for a moment before amusement lit up her eyes. “And we can’t be quiet?”
Miller looked at her before exiting the vehicle, walking around to open her door, pulling her out to stand before him. With an arm on each side of her, palms against the Jeep, he caged her in. When he leaned in, bringing his lips close enough to brush against hers as he spoke, there was scorching heat in his gaze.
“With what I had planned for you … for us? No. I don’t think we’ll be able to be quiet.” He brushed the lightest, faintest kiss against her lips. “I’ll be disappointed as hell if we’re able to be quiet.”
Catching the huff of breath against his lips from her laugh, he smiled. “Ready to head on up?”
Her light blue eyes met his and the warmth of affection combined with heated lust made his heart leap. “I’m ready.”
After hurriedly getting her bags, they walked up the stairs to his house. Unlocking the door, they both kicked off their flip flops on the mat and entered. Stopping short, he saw Kane sprawled out on the couch looking terrible.
“What’s wrong, man?”
Kane’s hand immediately shot out, palm facing as if to stop him. His friend’s voice came out in the barest whisper. “Please. Don’t yell. Migraine.”
Oh, hell. Miller felt like an absolute ass. He knew the migraines hit Kane out of the blue at times, figured they had been due to whatever had made the former Green Beret leave the military.
Miller whispered back, “Sorry, man. Anything I can get you?”
“Nah. I took some of the stuff Raine gave me and it’s starting to help. Slowly.”
Miller inwardly laughed. Raine was like their own witch doctor of sorts. He’d seen her pull out her “anti-inflammatory enzyme capsules” for anyone who had a headache or inflammation in their muscles. And the one time Zach had somehow gotten the start of an ear ache from water trapped in his ear from surfing, she’d cured it by putting some drops of garlic oil in it. Zach had sworn it was better the next day.
“Okay. Well, let us know if you need anything.”
Kane grunted and it sounded like it was part laugh part groan. “Yeah, I won’t be doing that.” Eyes closed, he added, “Go get your groove on.”
Shaking his head, Miller led Tate down the hallway to his bedroom, closing the door quietly. As soon as he dropped her bags onto the floor, he turned to face her, backing her up against the door—watching as her eyes widened when he slowly lowered the zipper of her hoodie. He bent his head to press his lips to the side of her neck, tongue darting out to taste her, and hearing her quick intake of breath, he smiled.
“I’ve really missed you.” Taking one of her hands in his, he pressed it to the front of his jeans, to where he was already hardening, pressing against the zipper. Hearing Tate’s slow exhaled sigh, he felt himself groan when her hand began to stroke the hard ridge of his cock through his jeans. He was unable to resist thrusting slightly, pushing into her touch.
“Miller,” she whispered.
Trailing kisses up along the column of her neck and along her jawline, he took his time in meeting her lips. Apparently, that wasn’t acceptable to Tate because her hands reached up to thread through his hair, steering his lips to hers in a deep kiss, fingers tightening in his hair. Her tongue sparred with his and he decided to let her have control. For a moment.
However, that moment ended when she arched against him, felt her hard, pebbled nipples pressing through her thin T-shirt. With a groan, he nearly ripped the hoodie off of her, Tate quickly lifting her shirt over her head, tossing it to the floor as he rid her of her bra. Miller felt his breathing falter as he looked at her standing before him clad only in yoga pants. Reaching out to cup her breasts in his large hands, he brus
hed his thumbs over the hardened tips, loving the way she arched into his touch, her head against the door, eyes closed. Dipping his head, he rasped his tongue over a nipple, lavishing it, and she let out a soft moan.
“If I slide a finger inside of you right now, how wet will you be?”
She let out a tiny groan as he gently sucked her nipple in his mouth. “Very.”
Miller couldn’t restrain the feeling of pride at reducing her to one word utterances. He released her nipple and used both hands to simultaneously slide her thong and pants down over her hips, helping her step out of them.
Lifting her in his arms, he turned toward the bed and laid her down, allowing himself to gaze upon her, noticing her flush of arousal, the darkened eyes full of lust along with something resembling—
“Miller,” her voice jerked him from his thoughts, “I need you. Now.”
He wasn’t sure what it was, but the tone of her voice combined with the look in her eyes made him decide not to torture her any longer. Ridding himself of his shirt, he slid off his jeans and boxer briefs, grabbing a condom from the nightstand and sliding it on before he joined her on the bed.
Bracing himself on his forearms above her, his chest met hers, letting out a low hiss at the contact. Her hands glided down his back to grasp his ass in an attempt to pull him closer.
“I need you. Right now.” Her words came out nearly breathless.
“But I haven’t even— fuck,” he breathed out when she’d bucked just enough to have the tip of his cock touch her hot core.
“I need you. Now.” Her voice was hoarse, words demanding.
Well. Someone didn’t want any foreplay, apparently.
Palms pressed flat against his chest, she said, “On your back, Vaughn.” Warring amusement and lust flowed through him as he slid off of Tate, lying on his back, holding out a hand. She let him help her as she swung her leg over to straddle him. Grasping his hardness in her hand, a smug look crossed her face when he let out a husky growl. Rubbing the tip against her entrance, her eyes watched him, gauging his expression.
“You’re playing with fire, Donnelly.”
Sliding herself over him, eliciting a loud gasp from both of them, her eyes were molten. “I love playing with fire.”
I love you.
He felt his body jolt as the words ran through his mind. Ignoring the emotion brought on by them, he took her hips in his firm grasp, pulling her down just as he gave a strong upward thrust. Hearing her gasp, watching as her head tipped back, eyes closed, back arched, he began to lose himself in her.
“Miller.”
God, he loved hearing her say his name. Tate rocked her hips against him and it was pure bliss, the way he felt her get slicker, her snug heat surrounding him. She leaned forward, mouth fusing to his when they kissed, tongues warring as she worked herself over him while he continued to thrust upward.
Tearing her mouth from his, she panted before pressing her lips to his neck and, damn, if that didn’t send a delicious shiver through him. When she latched her lips onto his earlobe and sucked, barely grazing her teeth over it, it nearly pushed him over the edge.
His arms moved up so that one hand cupped the back of her head, the other at the base of her spine as he rolled her onto her back.
“That was pretty slick,” she said huskily.
He smirked. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”
Raising one of her legs over his shoulder, giving her a moment to adjust to him sliding even deeper, he raised her other leg to rest upon his shoulder, as well.
“Oh, my God,” she whisper-groaned. He would have uttered his own agreement … if the breath hadn’t been robbed from him. Because he swore he was so deep inside of Tate that he could barely take it. It felt beyond words.
He began moving, only thrusting in and out a few times before he felt her inner muscles clench around him. That was when he knew he was a goner.
“Tate, baby.” He could barely speak, basically panting syllables. Hell, he wasn’t even sure what he was trying to tell her. His brain had short-circuited. And it only intensified when he felt her hand slide between their bodies to rub her clit.
“Come with me,” she breathed out, just as he felt her inner muscles begin contracting around his cock. Nothing could have stopped him from thrusting deep, the feel of her orgasm sending him straight to his own as he pulsed inside of her, moaning her name.
Lowering her legs from his shoulders, she bent them at the knee, surrounding his hips. He leaned forward to press small kisses along her collarbone and shoulder as they both allowed their breathing to calm. Finally, he raised up, gazing down into her eyes.
“Think we were quiet enough that Kane didn’t hear us?”
She laughed, shaking her head. “Not a chance.” Grinning up at him, she added, “You were pretty loud.”
With a groan, he moved off of Tate to dispose of the condom in the wastebasket by the bed. “Maybe he didn’t hear anything.”
Just then, they heard Kane call out, “I feel like I need a damn cigarette! Damn, boy!”
Tate looked like she was trying hard to restrain a laugh. “I think that just went out the window.”
Falling back upon the bed, he laid an arm across his eyes, hearing her snicker beside him.
Fucking thin ass walls.
Tate,
I’ve been killing myself trying to learn to play some Jack Johnson songs on my new guitar. While we were stateside for a brief time before heading back to this shithole over here, Hendy took me to get a good guitar of my own. He told me to try them out, that I’d know which one I wanted by the way it felt in my hands, beneath my fingers. That I’d know it was “the one” by touch alone. You want to know what my first thought of was when he’d said that? I thought of you, T. Because, damn it, you’re the only one who has ever felt right. Felt like “the one”.
But I guess I wasn’t “the one” for you, huh?
I wish I could stop loving you. I need to.
M.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
THEY WERE FINALLY GETTING DRESSED, after showering and getting “distracted” by each other. With a dreamy sigh, Tate pulled her shirt over her head, thinking about the way Miller had pinned her against his shower wall, had thrust in and out as the water cascaded over them. She swore the way he had looked at her, the way he had kissed her since he’d brought her home with him, had been different. Not in a bad way. Not at all. But different in that she felt there was more emotion behind it. Like maybe he was feeling what she was feeling.
Taking a deep breath, she decided she was going to broach the subject. She felt like they had lost out on so much, been robbed of so much time, and she wanted to be with Miller. She’d had time to think, especially on the trip back from Cassie’s. She knew Miller had always had her heart … and still did. He was the only man she’d ever imagined—or wanted—to be with. Forever.
“Miller? Can I ask you … er, say something?” He had his back to her, standing unabashedly and beautifully naked at his dresser, pulling out a shirt and underwear.
“Sure,” came his quick response as he yanked on his boxer briefs and began tugging the shirt over his head, turning to face her.
Inhaling a fortifying breath, she spoke, her words rushed, “I love you. I always have. I want to be with you. I want us to move forward. The question is,” her eyes searched his own, “do you want that?”
He froze, shirt around his neck and a flash of what could only be described as panic washed across his face. “I don’t really … I guess I never really thought about it?” His response came out as a question.
“You haven’t thought about any of that?” She tried to keep her tone calm, but it hurt. The idea of them not being on the same page after all they’d been through. The idea that none of that had even crossed his mind.
Letting out a long sigh, she averted her eyes in an attempt to choose her words carefully before meeting his gaze again. “Look, Miller. If you don’t want to be with me, then just say it—
”
“That’s not it.” He spoke quickly, defensively, hurriedly pushing his arms through his shirt and tugging it down over his torso.
She waved her hand in exasperation. “Then what is it?”
“I just … I don’t …”
Tate looked up at Miller, at the man she had loved, the man whom she’d never stopped loving. “I can’t be the only one fighting for this—for us. I mean …” she stopped, running her hands over her hair in apparent frustration. “You gave up on me, on us, all those years ago. Without a word. That was it. Right? It didn’t faze you, at all? Because I wrote to you for nearly a year before I gave up. And you, what? Just figured,” she changed to make her tone casual, “Oh, well. She’s gone. I’m over it. It’s—”
“I wrote to you.”
Tate visibly faltered at Miller’s quietly spoken words.
“What?”
Looking away, focusing on a point above her shoulder, his gaze was distant. “I wrote to you, off and on for a few years. But, after a while, I finally got rid of the letters. Burned them all, one night.”
Tate flinched at his admission.
Miller’s gaze finally met hers. “I was tempted to look you up, to see where you were, what you were doing with your life. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I didn’t want to find out that you were happily married to some guy. Had kids.” His eyes held pain as he added, “I didn’t want to know that. Couldn’t risk it.”
Her voice was subdued when she said, “Years ago, losing you broke my heart. Hell, it pretty much broke me. And the only way it feels like it’s back together again is when I’m with you. But if you don’t want to be with me, Miller, then you need to decide now. I can’t be the only one fighting for you to remember us … to remember our love.” Her voice cracked with emotion before growing softer. “I’m at the point where if I need to get over you, it needs to happen now.”
There was pain in his eyes but he still said nothing. Tate felt as though there were an ice pick stabbing her directly in the heart.
