by Ella Miles
26
Millie
Last night was…it was…holy fuck.
I can’t describe how I felt. I can’t describe how I feel now. I just can’t…
It was beyond incredible. No man has ever fucked me like that—in a way that was both about fucking and, dare I say it, lovemaking.
Sebastian King fucked me hard and fast, but he also made love to my body, caressing and stroking it until I bent to his will. Until I wasn’t in my head anymore. Until all I could feel were the thousands of tiny explosions dancing all over my body as I came.
I came—during sex with a man.
I thought I was incapable. I thought I just couldn’t. I thought…well, I thought I wasn’t worthy of an orgasm. That Mother Nature decided that because of all the fucked up things I’ve done that I would never orgasm with a man. It was the world’s way of keeping me away from men because I wasn’t good for them, and they weren’t good for me.
But what if I was wrong?
What if I just hadn’t found the right man?
There is a loud knock at our door. I squint my eyes open. I’m exhausted after our round of fucking last night.
The pounding doesn’t stop. Sebastian must be a heavy sleeper because his naked ass doesn’t stir at all.
I sigh and then grab one of the hotel’s white robes before slugging to the door and opening it.
“Mrs. King, I’m here to take your bags down. The car is here to take you to the airport.”
“Shit!”
“Mrs. King?” the young bellhop says.
“Um…give us five minutes.”
“But the car—“
“Tell the car to wait.”
I close the door gently in his face and then run back to the bedroom. I stop abruptly when I see Sebastian sleeping so peacefully stretched out on his stomach, completely naked in all his glory.
I bite my nails as I smile at him, remembering everything. I may not ever remember our real first time together, but there is no way I’ll ever forget last night. I’ll file it away to relive over and over and over and over again.
And hopefully, Sebastian is up for breaking his little rule—it’s the least I can do to thank him for staying married to me a little longer.
But that’s for later, right now we have to get to the car and to the airport.
“Sebastian,” I grab his ankle and shake it, but it does nothing. He doesn’t move.
“Sebastian!” I holler louder as I round the bed.
“Sebastian!” I yell even louder as I shake his back.
He turns and smacks me right in the nose.
“Jesus,” I curse as my eyes water, and I see stars.
“Oh my god, Millie. I’m so sorry!” Sebastian jumps out of bed, and tries to access my nose, but I don’t lower my arms.
“I’m fine. We have to go, though.” My words are muffled as my hands cover my mouth and nose.
“Let me see,” Sebastian says, gently touching my wrists.
Slowly, I lower my hands, and the look of concern on Sebastian’s face intensifies. His eyes darken, his jaw twitches, his forehead wrinkles as his thumb traces the bridge of my nose.
“The good news is it doesn’t look broken. The bad news is it’s bleeding and most likely going to bruise.”
“We have to pack. Our car to the airport is here,” I say, sounding nasally, the taste of iron spilling onto my lip.
“First, you need to put some ice on your nose and eye.” Sebastian heads to the kitchenette, hobbling on his cast, and I follow after, tilting my head back to keep the blood from dripping everywhere.
“Sit,” he says.
I do, and then he hands me a bag of ice to hold against my face. I move to get up. “Stay,” he says, blocking me from getting up.
“But we have to go.”
“I’ll take care of the packing. You take care of that nose.”
I nod as a sneaking smile spreads. I don’t know how Sebastian thinks he won’t make a good husband someday. He’s such a sweetheart.
After that moment, though, the rest of the day goes to hell. Our car leaves, assuming that we changed our flight, so we have to take a crowded bus that only had two seats left on opposite ends of the bus. We were late for our flight and had to change to a flight that flew through Seattle and then on to Los Angeles, which meant we didn’t have first-class seats together anymore. Instead, we both sat in two middle economy seats on opposite sides of the plane.
By the time we landed, we had barely spoken to each other all day. We were crabby. And we hadn’t talked about the future at all.
We had an agreement that we’d learn all there was to learn about each other as we flew back home. We’d tell each other the truth about ourselves.
Instead, we weren’t even close enough to talk. And as we ride back in the back of a cab to Sebastian’s house with his crutches between us, I feel like the high we were on before we left is gone.
The world is back to being against us.
The truths we are supposed to share, stay hidden.
I think back to the other part of the night—the part that was equally as special and memorable as the sex part. The part that was tender and kind and intimate. Sebastian looked into my soul and found the darkness.
He thinks the guys I’ve been with are the problems.
My phone buzzes, and I stare down at the text message from my ex.
Sebastian thinks the stalker is my problem.
“We’re here,” Sebastian says.
He climbs out and wheels his suitcase up to the elevator. I follow with my backpack. Once inside the elevator, there is no spark. Nothing moves us from the misery we feel. When the doors open onto the top floor and Sebastian leads me to a door, I hope everything will change once we get inside.
And it does, but not because Sebastian suddenly starts talking to me, but because I learn one truth about Sebastian. He’s fucking rich. Like billionaire, I own half the town, rich. My mouth gapes as I follow him inside his apartment.
Now we are going to talk. Now is the time to discuss if we are going to have a conversation about who we are, if we are going to fuck again.
Which better be yes, because there is no way I’m going to survive living under the same roof as him if we don’t.
“I’m beat, and I have a meeting at six in the morning I have to get to. There are two spare bedrooms, choose either, and if there is any food in the fridge, you’re welcome to it. I’ll give you the grand tour tomorrow after I get off work.”
My mouth falls wider. Is he serious? Are we seriously not going to talk? About anything?
“Um…sure, I get it. I have to be up early, too,” I lie. In fact, other than packing up a few items to bring over from my old apartment, I have nothing to do tomorrow.
“Goodnight, Millie,” Sebastian says, not even looking back at me.
He’s back to being the asshole that I thought was all a lie. In reality, this is who he is. The man who doesn’t care once he’s fucked a woman. The man who is now done with me.
I stomp down the hall to one of the spare bedrooms and collapse on the bed. My face is swollen, along with my feet from being in an airplane all day. My stomach rumbles, and my face is oily. I should shower, and eat, but the only strength I have now is barely enough to lift the comforter up and crawl under.
Sebastian’s right to stay away from me, though. He thinks the men in my life were the problem in my relationships. He doesn’t realize the truth—I’m the problem.
27
Sebastian
My alarm wakes me up at five-thirty. Like a robot, I go through my normal routine.
I put on my workout clothes and guzzle a glass of water. I meditate for fifteen minutes on my balcony before heading to my workout room. I spend ten minutes stretching, before forty-five minutes on the bike instead of the treadmill, the only change to my routine due to my fucked up ankle, and thirty minutes lifting weights.
I grab a second glass of water.
I show
er.
I get dressed.
I make a cup of coffee and a protein smoothie.
Then I head out the door, using one crutch as I hobble along.
When I park at my office, I take a deep breath. My routine is so ingrained into my life that I didn’t even stop to think about Millie.
Millie—my heart lurches in my chest, begging me to turn the car around and go after her. To find out how she slept last night. To feed her breakfast. To find out everything about her.
To fuck my routine.
Blow off work and just spend every waking second with her.
I want to learn what she does for a living. I want to tell her what I do. I want to ask all the questions I’ve been avoiding.
For a moment, I let the desire grow. I let myself think about that night. Was that really only two nights ago that I was fucking her in a resort suite in Hawaii?
Why didn’t I fuck her every night? Now reality is going to get in the way.
Who am I kidding? Reality already got in the way the second we left for the airport yesterday. Everything that could go wrong, did. Maybe that was for the best, because if I’d sat with her in first-class and talked all the way home, I would have fallen for her. Just a little. Just enough that I wouldn’t be able to push her out my head. Just enough that I would actually turn the car around and head back to her.
Instead, I’ve become an asshole again. I ignored her all night and didn’t even wake her before I left. She’s going to hate me, but it’s for the best.
Just like it’s for the best that I get back into my routine and go inside my office like nothing’s changed. I’m the same man. I’ll go to work and continue on with my normal life. I’m just helping a friend away from her ex—that’s all.
I climb out of my car and grab my crutch—cursing it to hell as I use it to walk inside. I can mostly walk without the need of the crutch the way the cast was done, but the doctor told me to keep off my foot as much as possible would help it heal, so I’m trying to behave.
I hobble on my crutch inside the healing and rehab center where my office is.
“Oh my god, Sebastian, what happened?” Shelly, the receptionist, asks as I walk inside.
“Just a small accident while I was in Hawaii. I should be able to get the cast off in a few weeks.”
“That must have ruined your honeymoon.”
I pause. It should have completely ruined it, but after that night, everything changed.
“How is Mrs. King doing? Are you going to have a reception or a big wedding to celebrate?”
Jesus, what’s with all the questions? I run my hand through my hair, the back of my neck perspiring a little as I think about how to answer her question.
“No, we liked the spontaneousness of the wedding. I don’t think we will have a big reception or anything.”
Shelly pouts. “You should. I’m sure your wife would love to have a big wedding to celebrate. And I want a chance to hook up with a sexy groomsman.” She bats her eyes seductively at me. I know she doesn’t mean anything by it; Shelly is like another sister to me.
“We’ll think about it,” I say to get away.
I frown as I hobble along to my office. The rest of my day will go better. Shelly is nosy, that’s all.
However, news of my wedding and ankle spreads around the office until even patients are coming up to me congratulating me and wanting to hear the story of how I broke my ankle rescuing my wife.
Eventually, Shelly got me to spill, and then she blabbed to everyone until I eventually had to lock myself in my office to get any work done. My day is usually about answering emails, taking meetings, ensuring the staff has everything they need and are up to date about the latest techniques to help our patients.
I also handle the financials. We’re a non-profit that helps people. My salary barely covers my car payment, not that I need it. My family owns a restaurant chain, several bars, and a few hotels. Money isn’t an issue. And money wouldn’t get me out of bed every morning anyway.
But by lunch, I’ve had enough. When another loud knock raps my door, I decide it’s time to work from home the rest of the day. I can’t handle any more questions about Millie. How did we meet? How did I propose? How did I break my ankle? What does she do for a living?
The questions are endless.
I hop on my one good foot to the door to turn away whoever is at the door. When I throw it open, I realize that I shouldn’t have opened it.
Kade and Larkyn are smiling at me with knowing expressions on their faces.
“What are you two doing here?” I ask my brother and sister-in-law. Kade works in an office building uptown, taking care of the part of the business that makes money. And although Larkyn runs the non-profit with me, she doesn’t usually come into the office but a couple of times a week, usually preferring to work from home where she can be near her kids.
“Taking you out to lunch.”
“I was going to skip lunch and head home.”
“To Millie?” Larkyn’s eyes light up.
“No, my ankle is just killing me,” I lie.
Larkyn frowns. “You should invite Millie to meet us for lunch. Where does she work? We can pick a spot where she can meet us.”
“No,” Kade says suddenly.
Both Larkyn and I snap our heads to him.
“We need to talk with just Sebastian,” Kade says.
My brother and I exchange icy glances. Of all the people that I have to convince that my marriage is real, Kade is the toughest. He knows me better than anyone. He knows that all I’ve talked about for years is never wanting to get married.
And then all of a sudden, bam, I’m married. I know it’s going to lead to some suspicions, and I’d rather be anywhere but at lunch with them.
“When did you and Millie start dating?” Kade asks me.
“Six months ago,” I answer, lying through my teeth.
“Oh, it’s so romantic. Why didn’t you tell us you were dating and getting serious?” Larkyn asks.
“Because I knew you’d do this.” I stare at my brother as I pop a bite of my salad into my mouth, challenging him to be different. To not criticize me, or say that my marriage is going to fail. That I’m not cut out for marriage. I already know all of this. I don’t need my brother telling me.
Larkyn looks from me to Kade, completely oblivious to our battle of wills.
“We just want to know because we love you. Now, tell us about the honeymoon and the romantic way you saved her and ended up breaking your ankle,” Larkyn asks.
I sigh and then go into the story of us hiking and how I ended up hurting my ankle before carrying her to safety.
Larkyn swoons, but Kade looks at me like he isn’t buying it. He’s not buying that I’m spontaneous, or adventurous, or married for that matter.
“Excuse me, I need to go the bathroom before we leave,” Larkyn says, getting up from her wicker seat where we are sitting on the terrace of an upscale restaurant. She squeezes my shoulder. “You have no idea how happy I am that you found someone. I was worried about you, but you look so happy now. We need to plan a get together soon so we can get to know her better.”
I nod.
“I’ll meet you in the lobby in a second,” Kade says to Larkyn before she leaves. And then he turns to me, and I know he’s about to give me a big brother speech.
“Alright, let’s hear it. I’m not cut out for marriage. I’m making a big mistake. I jumped into marriage too early.”
Kade just stares at me.
“Out with it.”
He reaches into the pocket of his suit and pulls out a stack of papers. His life could have been my life. If I was normal. If I wasn’t addicted to drugs and alcohol. I could have worked in a big office in a suit and gone to client meetings where I drank fine whiskey and made deals like him.
Instead, I wear jeans and a company T-shirt every day. My office is surrounded by patients who are detoxing and cursing and vomiting. Trust me, detoxing isn’t a pretty
sight. There is nothing fancy about my life. The only part of my life that is anything like I expected as a kid is the high-rise apartment. And that is just because of my inheritance.
I may not be trusted or want to work in the family business, but that doesn’t mean that I haven’t earned every drop of money that I inherited. I just earn mine by staying sober and keeping out of the newspapers, while Kade earns it by working hard in a fancy office.
If Kade only knew the truth, that technically I’m not sober anymore. I broke my ten-year sobriety, and that’s what led to me making a stupid decision and getting married to Millie in the first place.
Kade tosses the papers on the table without a word. I glance down.
“What’s this?”
“Your prenup.”
I frown as I pick up the papers that he had drawn up for me. I don’t read them over, but I see mine and Millie’s full name on them. Rose—her middle name is Rose. Beautiful.
“Hey,” Kade snaps his fingers in front of my eyes. I dazed off thinking of Millie.
“We don’t have much time to talk before Larkyn comes looking for us.”
“Why are you handing me a prenup? We’re already married. And what are you doing getting involved in my business anyway?”
“The prenup is to protect you. It doesn’t matter that you are married, you can still sign a prenup after, especially since you got married so fast. That, or you can get it annulled now before things get messy.” He tosses a second set of papers in front of me—annulment papers.
That pisses me off. “That’s all Millie and I are to you, a big joke? One you can just toss some papers at and make go away?”
“No, actually. I don’t think you are a big joke. That’s why I want to protect you. Because when this fails, and it will because you haven’t known her long enough, you will be protected.”
“I don’t need a prenup!” I stand up.
Kade does, too, in his incredibly calm way. “If she truly loves you, she’ll sign the prenup. It’s incredibly generous and just protects the family assets you wouldn’t want to give up anyway.”
