Page 12 of Nothing Left to Lose

Yep.

My dick didn’t seem to care.

And before I could do something completely inappropriate and mind-boggling, like walk over and push him onto the bed, I began undoing the champagne, quickly popping the cork and taking a long drink straight from the bottle.

“You ready to be husbands again?”he asked. “Ready to kiss me if you have to?”

I almost swallowed my tongue but was drunk enough that I smiled instead. “If I have to.”

“Not weirded out?” he murmured.

“Not at all,” I replied.

Absolutely not at all weirded out that I keep thinking about his body, his dick in that towel, the way he’d felt asleep next to me, what it felt like to kiss him before...

“I need food,” I managed to say.

“Then let’s get through this awful dinner and then we can hit the town.”

“Hit the town? Who the fuck says that anymore?”

“I do. I just did. Stop being a dick and let’s go eat.”

Dinner was a great idea because food would help soak up the bottle of champagne we’d just demolished.

I’d drunk most of the second bottle and had a decent buzz on when we left to meet Carina again in the lobby.

Why we were meeting her in the lobby instead of the restaurant was something I probably should have clued into before, but the Moët-fueled buzz took the edge off all reasoning.

I was still too hung up on my newfound attraction to Miller to be thinking straight anyway.

Straight . . .

I snorted, and Miller shot me a look just before he hit the button on the elevator. “You okay?”

“Super,” I lied, just as he slid his hand into mine.

I’d held his hand a thousand times before. This was no different. Except it was.

Somehow.

Because he held my hand first.

Had he ever been the one to take my hand first?

I wasn’t sure . . .

I also wasn’t sure why Iknewthat he’d never initiated contact.

It was always me.

Except before we came down, he’d fixed my shirt collar and then my hair. And then he’d gently tapped my chin with his finger and it did some weird buckling thing to my knees.

And my heart.

But I was ignoring that.

Like I was trying to ignore how he was different after our nap. He was the one who touched me first; he was the one being flirty. Not me.

---