Page 30 of One Touch

But I wouldn’t let him know. I couldn’t let him have that power over me.

“Good morning, Silver,” he greeted as I strolled into the kitchen. He was grinning way too much for this time of the morning. I grunted and took my spot on the island. We’d already run our five miles and showered—separately, despite his attempts. I only let him get away with that when I was boneless from orgasms.

Miller always managed to beat me to the kitchen and had already started breakfast. Not that I minded. He was a way better cook than I was. I pretended to hate it, but the way I devoured everything on my plate was probably a dead giveaway to my ruse.

He winked and set a cup of coffee before me before returning to the stove and granting me unfettered access to his backside. Hockey had been good to him. His back muscles should be illegal, and the way his ass looked in his tiny boxers was pornographic. It was plump and perfectly round. It was my weakness, and it never ceased to get me hard.

Staring at it now, my cock thickened in my sweats, and I shifted to press down on it. I didn’t want to come across as needy. I was, but I liked to pretend it wasn’t that obvious. There were limits to how much weakness I could show others, and Miller saw more than anyone. There was no way I could give him the rest of my power. So, despite my obvious addiction to him, I wanted to delude myself for as long as possible that I had some control.

“Thanks,” I mumbled before sipping the liquid gold. This was already my third cup, but the one he made for me always tasted better. The man was a bonafide slob and messier than toddlers on a candy high, but he made the best coffee. Damn him.

“I was thinking, we have today off, so we should go out and do something.”

I froze and peered at him over my coffee mug. His back was still to me as he plated a piece of the fluffy frittata. My mouth watered at the sight, and he temporarily distracted me as he passed me the plate and took a seat on the stool next to me. My eyes lingered over his bare skin and the bulge in his boxers.

“Well?” he asked, and I drew my gaze up to his smirking face.

It took me a second to remember the question, and I scowled. “What part of only in this apartment made you think going out together would be okay, Bambi?”

Miller rolled his eyes and took a large bite. A piece of egg and cheese stuck to his chin before falling to the ground. Alaska gobbled it up and didn’t look guilty as he licked his paws. Not that I could blame him. Miller’s table manners were about as good as his cleaning—nonexistent.

“Chill, Silver Spoon. I’m not going to hold your hand or grope you in public. We’ve been on the road half the time since we started this, and I’ve held to our agreement, haven’t I?” He lifted his brow.

“Yes,” I gritted out, and he smiled wide.

“See, nothing to fear.” I scowled harder. While I’d been the one to insist on the rule, I also despised it. I hated how easily he could go from giving me all of his attention when we were in this apartment to pretending I didn’t exist outside of it. It was what I wanted. Except…

No, there was noexcept. This was all I could have.

“What do you think?” he asked as he finished off his plate of food.

“Huh?” I glanced down and realized I hadn’t even touched mine yet.

“Farmer’s Market and then hitting up a popular food truck.”

I turned to my plate and scooped a large bite into my mouth in lieu of answering. For the first time since he started cooking for me, I didn’t savor the taste. The egg turned to ash in my mouth as I digested his words. For once, I didn’t have a mile-long list of obligations I needed to complete for my mother, meaning my day was wide open. Yet, I hesitated. Why was I hesitating?

Because I really wanted to say yes, and that terrified me.

“Come on, Silver. Just think of all the yummy things I can make for you?”

“Not interested,” I mumbled around my next bite.

“Fine,” he sighed and stood to take his plate to the sink. His phone rang on the counter, and he smiled as he picked it up. “Hey, good timing. I was just about to head to the Farmer’s Market and try out that food truck. Want to?—”

I was out of my seat and across the kitchen faster than I could process what I was doing. One second, I was eating, and the next, I ripped the phone from Miller’s hands and hit the disconnect button.

“What the fudge?” he grumbled and reached for the phone. I lifted it over my head, but it didn’t do much, considering he was a few inches taller than me. My following action could only be explained by low blood sugar and lack of coffee.

Instead of giving in and returning his phone like a mature adult, I flung it across the room, and it smashed right into my TV.

“Mothertrucker.”

I stared, stunned at the sight of the protruding object, and, not for the first time, wondered what in the hell had come over me.

“Get dressed. We’re leaving in five,” I ordered and stalked out of the room without a glance back. My hands were shaking when I entered my bathroom. Staring into the mirror, I took several deep breaths, but the anxious restlessness I felt under my skin didn’t disappear. Turning on the sink, I splashed cold water on my face. Finally, the jitteriness dissipated enough that I could change into clothes. I texted my driver and checked around the room. It felt like I was forgetting something, but I had everything I needed.

When I couldn’t linger any longer, I walked back down the hallway and ignored the TV as I passed it. I’d message someone while we were gone and have it taken care of. I couldn’t keep it around. It was an obvious sign of my weakness.

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