* * *
He really liked her.
No, he didn’t just really like her, Will really, really liked Mila. He liked the way she couldn’t seem to meet his eyes when she smiled, the way she would chew her bottom lip when she was nervous or flustered or simply at a loss for words. He even liked how clumsy she was, a trait he could only attribute to how shy she truly was.
It was all so…goddamn adorable. And refreshing. Utterly refreshing.
Of course it helped that she was strikingly beautiful as well, and not in some overly manicured, caked-with-makeup-and-covered-in-fine-clothing sort of way. She was naturally beautiful, and not at all overdone. And he couldn’t stress enough how immensely he appreciated that about her.
Dinner had been a bumbling mess: Mila had spilled her drink, dropped her fork, and blushed at both him and the waiter more times than he could count, and then yet again, she’d insisted on paying for half the tab. Of course he hadn’t allowed her to do so, but for a moment there he’d thought she’d been about to make a scene about it. And even if she had, he would have thoroughly enjoyed it.
Now, standing on the stoop just outside her apartment building, he was delighting in watching her look anywhere but at him, obviously completely at a loss of what to do next.
He knew what he wanted to do. Of course he wanted to kiss her—kiss her long and hard and then drag her up those ridiculously exhausting four flights of stairs and into her apartment, where he would promptly undress her and bury himself inside her.
Except…he’d already done that. They’d skipped the torturous buildup and jumped straight into bed together and now… now what, exactly? He wanted her. He wanted to get to know her. He wanted something more substantial for once in life, and despite hardly knowing this woman, he felt comfortable with her—not at all floating along a stream of flimsy air and feeling like at any moment he was going to fall, but grounded. Real. Goddamn substantial.
And for those reasons, he wasn’t going to sleep with her again. At least, not yet anyway.
“I had a great time,” she said softly, finally looking at him. “A really, really great time.”
He took a step forward, reaching for her cheek, surprised again at how comfortable he truly felt with her. Cupping the side of her face, he brushed the pad of his thumb along one perfectly sculpted cheekbone.
“I like your hair curly,” he said absentmindedly.
Her bottom lip trembled, but her gaze didn’t waver. Silent, they stared at one another, Will for the first time in his life truly at a loss for words but at the same time feeling like words weren’t even needed. Also another first for him.
“Do you want to come inside? I have ice cream,” she eventually asked, giving a gentle reminder of the earlier promise of dessert.
He could hear the uncertainty in her voice, and knew if he told her no she might not understand his reasoning. Dropping his hand from her face, he smiled at her. “Yes,” he said, “I would.”
Shoving his hands into his pants pockets, he watched while she fumbled with her keys, and smiled when, wrestling to get the door open, she practically fell straight through it. And then still watched as she headed up the stairs, admiring the way her firm backside swayed lightly back and forth with her movements.
Before long he was feeling the stirrings of an erection, finding himself wanting to reach out and touch her, and he quickly adverted his gaze to her shoulders. Her bare, tan skin glowing under the poor lighting in the hall, he found it wasn’t much better and did little to dissuade what his body was craving.
By the time they reached her apartment door, he was hoping Nikki was home to serve as a much-needed…well, cockblock. When it came to Mila, his cock needed blocking—there really was no other way to put it. He wanted this, whatever it was, to be different. For the first time in his life, he wanted to take it slowly, to make whatever was between them more than just lust. To have it mean something.
Mila cracked open the door and stuck her head inside the small opening. “Nikki?” she whispered loudly. “Nikki?”
After waiting a moment and getting no response, Mila peered over her shoulder. “I think she’s sleeping,” she said, and smiled broadly.
He smiled back—how could he not in the face of her adorable accent and all those dimples bursting forth and aimed in his direction?—though he internally groaned. No Nikki meant no chaperone.
“Coffee?” Mila suggested, gesturing him inside the darkened hall.
“Please,” he said, deciding to drink an entire pot. Coffee breath would have to serve as his much-needed sex deterrent.
Dropping her purse and keys atop a small table near the entrance to the kitchen, Mila kicked off her shoes and padded barefoot onto the linoleum. Though he’d been here before, he hadn’t paid much attention to his surroundings the first time, and took his time, while Mila puttered around the kitchen, to really look around her home. The kitchen was more of a kitchenette, the appliances all scaled smaller than normal-sized, everything quite cramped in appearance but also incredibly homey.
Someone—Mila or Nikki—had a penchant for pink, and it seemed had bought everything kitchen-related in exactly that color. There was a pink blender, a pink toaster, pink refrigerator magnets, and pink dish towels. Even the coffeemaker was accented with…pink. All that pink aside, what he found to be most endearing was the small bulletin board hanging beside a row of wall cupboards, littered with little multi-colored Post-Its pinned in every available space—all notes between the two women.
“Be home tomorrow morning. Don’t wait up.”
“Working the late shift, made you dinner”
“Did you steal my purple T-shirt!”
“I can’t find my phone. If you find my phone bring it to me ASAP!”
“I found my phone, it was under the bed! Panic over!”
“So,” Mila said, drawing him out of his musings. “You haven’t told me almost anything about yourself, and I feel as if I’ve told you everything.”
Her back was to him as she went up on her tiptoes, reaching for a pair of mugs nestled upon the highest shelf. Watching her, he wondered exactly how much to tell her about himself, as he’d done for most of the evening already. Knowing she had a college education but was only able to find work as a waitress, and Nikki as a hotel clerk, he knew their income was meager compared to his own, and he also got the sense that Mila was a relatively proud woman when it came to getting by. Proud in the sense that she took great pride in making it on her own. The last thing he wanted to do, especially this early on, was scare her away by throwing his upbringing and current financial circumstances at her.
Yet if he were truly going to be honest with himself, his reluctance also stemmed from the fact that he didn’t want her to know his net worth just yet. He wanted her to like and appreciate him for…him. And nothing else. Every woman he’d ever met had known him and what he was worth; the fact that he wasn’t bad-looking was a bonus for them, but it had always been the wealth and importance that they had been after. With Mila, it was like having a blank slate.
“Infinity,” he said before he let the silence hang too long between them. “I manage it.”
It wasn’t exactly a lie, but neither was it the entire truth. He did manage most of his properties, albeit with the help of several others. The fact that he owned the club was merely a minor detail. At least, that’s what he was telling himself.
Pausing in her task, Mila turned around, her forehead creased with lines. “The nightclub?” she asked. “Where we met?”
He nodded.
“Wow,” she breathed. “It’s such a popular place, you must do really well.”
He smiled at her awed expression; she was just so magnificently innocent. “I do okay,” he said, shrugging. “I enjoy meeting people, that’s what I love about it.”
Another small lie. At first he’d loved it. Now, he disliked most of the people he met. They were all shallow and self-obsessed.
“I majored in business,” he
continued, wanting to move the subject on from what he did for a living. “I live on the Upper East Side, I have six pairs of the same sneakers, and I like playing basketball…despite the fact that I’m horrible at it.”
“Six pairs of the exact same sneakers?” she asked, laughing.
Will breathed an imperceptible sigh of relief that she entirely dismissed his place of residence, which was unquestionably one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in the city, in favor of his sneaker comment—a fact that only proved to him, once again, that she was perfect in every way.
“Six,” he said, taking a small step in her direction. “When I find something that works for me, I tend to be a bit excessive.”
Her smile turned into a grin. “Women too?” she asked, smirking.
The question caught him off guard and he snorted softly. She was warming up to him, of that he was certain, and he was getting a glimpse of the woman behind all the blushing and lip-biting. And he liked what he was seeing. He liked shy Mila, but confident Mila was something to be reckoned with, and he had a feeling that she surprised even herself sometimes.
“Mila,” he said, taking another step toward her. “I have to tell you something.” He purposefully schooled his expression, taking on a very serious look.
Mila’s brow lifted in question. “You don’t want coffee?” she joked softly, a blush quickly spreading across her cheeks.
He shook his head as he closed the distance between them. “I don’t want coffee.”
Mila took a step backwards, her back now pressed against the countertop, her breathing hard.
“I promised myself I wouldn’t kiss you tonight,” he admitted, placing his hands on her hips. “I wanted to take this slow, I wanted to get to know you more before…”
Mila’s lips twitched. “Before what?” she whispered. “Before ice cream?”
He stared down at her, taking in her features, focusing on her lips, watching them part as her breathing increased.
“Before ice cream…” He paused before continuing. “…and before we ended up in bed again,” he answered honestly.
Her throat convulsed as she swallowed, her tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip, and how he wanted to be that lip right now—to feel her tongue gliding across him. His body tensed, his nostrils flared; he wanted to kiss her. He was going to kiss her. There was no doubt about it.
“I feel the same way,” she whispered, her gaze leaving his. “This is incredibly fast for me. I’ve never done this before. I’ve never had a one-night stand or slept with a man I hardly knew. And it’s been so long since…since I’ve been with anyone, I’m not even sure how to go about dating.”
“Mila,” he started.
“And honestly,” she continued, “now that you’re here, I really don’t care. I want you to kiss me. I mean, only if you want to kiss me…” She trailed off, still refusing to look at him.
He gripped her hips more firmly, an attempt to jolt her into looking at him.
Her eyes lifted, meeting his, and he moved in. “But I really want you to kiss me, Will.”
His breathing hitched; hearing his name on that delectable mouth was all-consuming. He placed hands on either side of the counter, trapping her within the confines of his arms.
“Maybe we should just have coffee,” she said suddenly, her breathing coming fast. “I mean, if that’s what you want. We could watch a movie, or talk more, or—”
“Mila.”
She blinked, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth again. “Hmm?”
“Shut up,” he whispered, lowering his mouth to hers, “and kiss me.”
Chapter Eight
The kiss was breathtaking. So perfect, so mouth-wateringly perfect that it made my toes curl and my heart hammer wildly in my chest. Will pressed his body against mine, forcing my back against the countertop, his hard length jutting against me. But I didn’t mind—I didn’t care; he took my breath away with that kiss and the very apparent desire he had for me. Wrapping my arms around his middle, I held him tight against me, kissing him back, relishing the taste of him, the feel of his lips on mine, the heady scent of his cologne washing over me.
His hands moved under the slinky material of my camisole and brushed along the skin on my back, his fingers tracing seductive lines and making me tremble for more. He kissed me harder, his hands gripping my waist as he lifted me up and onto the countertop, knocking me straight into our coffee mugs.
As the cups fell, clattering to the ground, Will spread my legs apart and pushed himself between my thighs, his erection pressing impressively against me. I gasped against his mouth, lust rolling through me in a tidal wave. Arching my back, pressing my breast into his waiting hand, wanting to feel more of him, I moaned as he palmed me through my bra, my moan turning quickly into a groan as he suddenly broke away from me.
“Mila,” he started to say.
“Hmm?” I hummed.
“I’ve got a knife,” Nikki yelled as she stormed down the hallway and barged into the kitchen. “Don’t think I won’t use it.”
Will pulled away abruptly and my eyes shot open. Nikki was standing in the hall, smirking as she took in the scene before her: me, sitting atop the counter with my arms and legs wrapped around Will, coffee mugs lying on the floor and sugar scattered across the countertop. Blushing, I pressed my face into Will’s chest.
“Not trying to steal anything are you, Will?” Nikki asked, laughing harder.
“It depends on what you feel is stealing.” Pulling away, Will grinned down at me and winked.
“Taking something that isn’t yours,” Nikki prompted.
“Then no, I wouldn’t classify this as stealing—would you, Mila?” he said, his attention solely on me.
I shook my head, still not able to look at Nikki, knowing that if she hadn’t interrupted us, we would most definitely be having sex right now. And here, in the kitchen—where I make coffee, no less.
“Definitely not stolen,” I whispered hoarsely.
“Cheesy, but whatever,” Nikki said, shaking her head and smiling.
Slipping down off the counter, I turned toward the mess we’d made and sighed. “Do you want a coffee, Nikki?” I asked.
Part of me prayed that she said yes, because I wanted the interruption, needed her distraction. Because I wanted to take things slowly with Will; I didn’t want whatever this was to be based on cheap, meaningless sex—no matter how good that sex may have been. Yet another part of me begged that she said no and went back to her room, because I wanted Will all to myself. I wanted to continue with what we had been doing and where it had been leading only moments ago. But when she didn’t answer me right away, I glanced over to find her linking an arm through Will’s and pulling him into the hallway.
“Yes please,” she called over her shoulder.
Scowling, I turned back to the coffee, listening intently as Nikki plied him with random, nonsensical questions that, despite my frustration, were making me giggle.
“Do you have siblings, Will?” she asked.
“Unfortunately,” he replied. “Two brothers and a sister.”
“Mmhmm,” Nikki murmured. “And do think that having a higher ratio of brothers versus sisters has made you crave femininity?”
Will began to laugh, and by the time I finished preparing our coffees, Nikki’s questions had become so incredibly ridiculous that I was laughing too. Nikki was just…so very Nikki.
Passing out the drinks, I took the seat beside Will on the couch, greedily pressing myself up against him, eager for his warmth and the feel of his body beside mine.
“Reality TV, anyone?” Nikki asked, waving the remote in the air. “Ohh! A housewives marathon!”
Settling my head against Will’s arm, I let out a silent sigh. I was grateful for the cold shower Nikki had supplied us with—we both wanted to take this slowly—but that didn’t mean I was happy about it.
Hours later, when Nikki was snoring softly in her armchair, I glanced nervously up at Will. The feelings had
n’t abated, even after coffee and several hours of bad late night television. I wanted him every bit as badly. And the fact that he shared my feelings, had the same hungry look in his eyes, wasn’t helping.
“Do you want another coffee?” I asked softly.
He stared at me for a moment before nodding resolutely. Sighing, I pushed myself off the couch and headed to the kitchen, acutely aware that Will was following me.
Grabbing hold of the coffee pot, I was stilled when Will’s hands found my waist and his lips pressed against my neck. Moaning quietly, I closed my eyes and tipped my head to one side, allowing him better access.
“I really want to take you to bed,” he muttered.
“Yes,” I whispered, releasing the coffee pot. I reached up and slid my fingers into his hair.
Tugging gently on my earlobe with his teeth, he pressed himself against my backside, eliciting a sigh from me.
“I can’t, Mila. I like you.”
“That’s a good thing,” I murmured.
I felt him chuckle against me. “I don’t want to fuck this up.”
Opening my eyes, I released his hair and turned to face him. Sucking my bottom lip beneath my teeth, I tried to compose my thoughts, but facing him now, looking into his eyes and seeing the same feelings I had mirrored there…
Sighing, Will took a step backwards. Rubbing a hand across the back of his neck, he glanced down at me through hooded eyes. “I’m going to go,” he eventually said, and stared down to his feet. It was the first time I’d seen him look unsure of himself, and I found it absolutely endearing.
I took a steadying breath before speaking. “But we didn’t have dessert,” I stammered out nervously.
“No, we didn’t, did we?” He laughed lightly, though his brow was pinched.
“I mean, dinner was great, but everyone knows that dessert is the best part.” I smiled shyly at him. I wasn’t used to this; I’d never done this any of this before. Dating and flirting, it was all new to me.
“Anything in particular you have mind?” Will asked, giving me a boyish grin that practically screamed sex.
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