Page 54 of Resisting the Running Back

Miller Poked Something Inside Me

Morning dawns, and as I wake to a new day, I feel a little…out of sorts.

Miller’s arm is under me as he sleeps soundly on his back, and I’m lying on his chest, one arm tossed across his abdomen.

We’ve slept in the same bed before, but not after a night where we had sex. Twice. And not when I woke up snuggling him.

I can’t put my finger on what it is that’s making me feel out of sorts. I only know what it’snot. It’s not a hangover, and it’s not regret.

I glance at the clock. It’s already after seven, and usually I’ve been up for nearly three hours at this time of day. Usually I’ve hit my word count goal, and I’m already showered and ready to face the day.

But that was all back when I was a teacher. Now, I’m a full-time author and the fiancée of Miller Banks.

Life has sure changed a lot over the last few weeks.

Thathasto be what has me feeling all out of sorts.

I stare up at his face as he breathes his even breaths. I wonder if he’s dreaming. I wonder if it’s about last night.

Itfeltlike a dream.

Maybe we shouldn’t have done what we did. Maybe we shouldn’t have crossed that line.

I think it might be fear that seems to be plowing into me this morning.

I’m scared that we just altered the course of our friendship. I’m scared I’m going to lose him.

I’m scared I’ll never be enough for someone like him, someone who can have any woman they want at the snap of a finger. He’s the total package—a great personality, dangerously good looks, money in the bank, and a secure job doing what he loves. Oh, and he has a big cock that he certainly knows how to use.

And what am I? An unemployed teacher whose new paychecks are unstable at best. A roommate mooching off the guy who offered me a place to stay. I promised to cook for him. I still haven’t.

I’m scared of commitment. Ijustgot out of a relationship, and my ex hurt me. Badly.

But it was Miller who was there to pick up the pieces when Tyler tried to ruin my life. It’s Miller who’s giving me a shot at my dreams.

It’s Miller who Ishouldresist. Ineedto resist him. But I’m just not sure that’s possible after the kind of night we shared.

I slip out of bed and pull on some sweats. I brush my teeth and head down to the kitchen, make a cup of coffee, and sit at my computer.

And then the words seem to pour out of me as if by pure magic mixed with caffeine. Words are flowing in a way they haven’t flowed in months, and it’s like Miller poked something inside me with that cockzilla of his.

Whatever it was would love the pleasure of being poked again.

I finish the scene I’m working on and plot out the next few chapters, and then I get started on the next one. Miller saunters down a little after nine.

“Good morning,” he says, and I’m sort of expecting him to stop and press his lips to that little crook between my neck and shoulder.

He doesn’t, and a wave of disappointment passes through me.

“Morning,” I say, and I continue tapping on my keys until I finish the sentence I’m working on.

He walks over toward his little coffee station and makes himself a cup as he pulls out the stuff to make breakfast.

“Want some?” he asks.

I save my file and close my laptop, and then I say, “I’d love some. Can I help?”

“I got it.”

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