Page 10 of Taste Of You

Four

I’m at her door the following morning thirty minutes before eight, still in yesterday’s clothes. I can’t stay away. Knowing where she lives gives me access to her, an advantage that I can’t help but use at my disclosure.

Like now, I haven’t slept more than two hours since dropping her off, but I’m back. Ready to see her. Be in her presence.

Because I miss her every single moment she isn’t next to me. That I don’t see her.

Even while plugging numbers and sending off reports to my accountant, she was always at the edge of my subconscious. Invoices became blurry, and company names read Millie instead.

My mind couldn’t help but come back to her sweet smile when I took her home. To the kiss on my cheek, almost at the edge of my lips, I was gifted. To the wink she gave after punching in the code—a code I tattooed into my memory—that gave her entry to the building. Same one I punched in to let myself in without a single ounce of shame.

Thank God the place is nice and has security measures that assuage my worry. Not that they disappear, but they calm, knowing it’s a nice place with twenty-four-hour monitoring on site. That you must be buzzed in to enter if you don’t have an access number.

I even went as far as to check online for safety ratings and crime reports. They were low, and mostly petty-theft.

All this, while working late to catch up on work she pulled me from. Because without question, I know that I am screwed here. That this will not end without her pinned beneath me.

And while I fight this attraction—physical hunger for more—I’m also trying to prolong the inevitable. Give her time to fall. Win her over at the least, instead of clubbing her over the head and dragging her home with me.

Because my will to fight dies a little more each day. With each interaction.

Yesterday cemented the fact that she needs me. Needs my encouragement and guide. Someone who will put her first, make sure she needs for nothing. That she isn’t wandering New York City streets at three in the morning all alone.

Camille needs a man.

She needs me.

Breakfast in hand, I knock and wait. And wait.

I know she has an early morning class today and then a study group meeting immediately after. My girl is a little Chatty Cathy and amongst other things, shared her schedule without any prompting from me.

“Hold your horses, I’m coming!” Millie yells, rushing toward the door. Even before the sound of locks disengaging I’m smiling, my chest clenching in anticipation of seeing her sweet face. Moreover, because I’m an inpatient fuck, I knock again.

The doorknob turns, and I’m bouncing on my feet. “Hurry up.”

“Better be important—what the?”

“Morning, sunshine,” I croon, taking in her fresh face and soft curls. They’re free flowing down her back, with just a small portion over her left shoulder—a bare shoulder in a low-cut top.

Her skin looks so soft, and the little ringlets caress the flesh I want to touch. I want to skim my fingers over the slopes of her perfect breasts.

My mouth waters, and cock stirs beneath my pants, the thick denim doing little to hide my reaction, and I lower the bag in front of me.

“Everything okay, boss?” There’s a nervous edge to her tone.

“It’s perfect.” Not a lie. Just being in her presence makes it so. “Are you ready to go, or do you have a few minutes to eat?” I jiggle the bag, pulling her attention down.

Millie blushes for some reason and tucks a curl behind her ear. “Oh, I usually get something from the canteen on campus. Just coffee, really.”

“Unacceptable.”

At the reproach, she bites her lip and looks away. “I’m sorry. Swear I’m not doing it on purpose, it’s just been crazy with getting the new routine in order.”

I don’t like the way she’s hiding her eyes. Need those beautiful orbs on mine always.

Taking a step closer, I tip her chin up and look deep into those gorgeous blues. “Never look away, sweetheart.” Once more, her blush blooms across her cheeks and down her neck to the very edge of her top.

Would it be a dick move to demand she change?

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