Page 59 of Resisting the Running Back

“Those feel close. What do you have for the end of February or beginning of March?” I ask, glancing up at Miller.

“Valentine’s Day is full, but the weekend after is wide open if you want something there,” she says.

I keep my gaze on him as he looks at his calendar, and then he looks at me. His eyes are full of warmth as he says, “February twentieth.”

We have a date.

Now I just need a dress, flowers, rings, and about a million other things to prepare us for this momentous event.

If only it were real.

Thank goodness for Jamie, who has it all under control. So much so, in fact, that she asks a few more questions, takes payment from my rather generous future spouse, and then we’re done.

We have our date. Our venue is booked, and now we just have to figure out whether we’re actually going to go through with this.

But now? We celebrate. After we check in.

There’s no line, thankfully, and we get our key and our room number. And then Miller practically runs through the lobby to find the elevators. We race up to our suite with him carrying both of our overnight bags, and as soon as we’ve entered the room, he drops both bags on the floor in the entryway and turns toward me. The look in his eyes is intense, and I take a step back, finding myself bumping against the back of the door.

He stalks toward me, and he boxes me in as his hips press to mine. He leans one arm on the door above me as he tilts his head to look down at me, and we’re both already breathing heavy—maybe from the exertion of practically running here, or more likely from the intense need suddenly present between us.

I search between his eyes, and I get the sudden overwhelming feeling like I’m home. I’m safe. Whatever happens next, we’ll be okay. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so secure with someone before, but there’s this level of trust that exists between us that really can only be formed by knowing someone as long as we both have, by experiencing life and laughter and tragedy together as we have.

And now…this.

We’re experiencing something new and wonderful, something forbidden and different. Something beautiful and magical.

His lips move to mine, and it’s a soft, gentle kiss that nearly immediately intensifies. One of his hands trails down until itlands on my hip, and his fingertips dig in there for a few seconds as his tongue starts to move more urgently against mine.

It’s as if he’s hitting his frenzy of need, and I feel it, too. My knees are shaky again, and I wrap my arms around him in part to hold myself up and in part to smash my body as closely to his as I possibly can.

Out of nowhere, he sweeps me up into his arms, and he stops the kiss to carry me through the suite toward the bedroom.

I don’t have the luxury of time to look out at the gorgeous view outside our window and down below, but maybe later. Right now, there’s only one thing in my line of vision, and that’s Miller Banks.

He sets me down on the bed and climbs over me, and he kisses me some more. His hips move against mine so he’s humping me on the bed, both of us still fully clothed. I buck my hips back at him, meeting him in the middle each time, and I wrap my legs around his body as we keep moving like this, his tongue brushing mine as if we have all day even though the frenzy is building between us and pushing us into needing more. Now.

He pulls back from my mouth, and his lips trail down my neck.

“Fuck,” he mutters against my skin. “You taste so good.” He nips at my neck, and he keeps driving his hips to mine. He starts to moan, and I shift a little so I can feel his length through my jeans against my clit. I need him inside me, but my God, I don’t want this to stop.

I cry out as I feel the edges of an orgasm start to close in on me. I’m not quite there yet, but I’m getting closer as he keeps slamming against me.

I’ve never come just from humping, but I feel like I’m seconds away.

He slows his drives, and I feel his teeth along my collarbone.

I shift my hips toward him again, trying to angle for some more of that delicious friction, but he stops.

“Don’t stop,” I pant. “Keep going.”

“If I keep going, I’m going to come,” he admits.

Holy shit.

Just the words send another pang of need straight through to my core. He’s so turned on that he’s about to come?

“So am I. I need you,” I plead.

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