Chapter 7
Miller
I sip my coffee, leaning against the doorframe and watching Ashlyn sleep. Her body tangled in the sheets except for one arm stretched to the side where I laid until a few minutes ago. She slept draped across me most of the night in this same position, barely stirring when I slipped from under her.
“They used me, Miller, and when I wouldn’t do what they wanted, it was he who tried to destroy everything.”
My chest aches remembering her whispered confession as she drifted off. The words rattled around in my head all night. At first, jealousy simmered inside, thinking of her with someone else while she lay in my arms. Then I remembered her disgust when she mentioned the scum-sucking asshole from her past. My gut told me this wasn’t a jaded lover that hurt her, but something else entirely. And it pissed me the fuck off.
The weekend in Chicago, mixed with the last few weeks, brought more questions that I know she’s not ready to answer. Knowing what happened to Pierce and Darby makes me want to demand she tell me what happened, but I know it will push her away. And after last night, I’m not willing to risk that.
She gets restless and flips over, mumbling incoherently. I push off the frame, going to the bed and edging into her side. I take in the image of her wild hair spread on my pillows and the way she looks natural in my bed.
Her hooded eyes flutter open, and she blinks a few times before focusing on me. I expect hesitation, but instead, she smiles shyly and reaches up to run her fingers through my hair. “Hi.”
“Good morning.”
“What time is it?”
“Do you have somewhere to be?”
She shakes her head.
“Then it doesn’t matter what time it is.”
“You should have woken me when you got up.”
“You were sleeping soundly.”
“Were you watching me?”
“Just the last few minutes.”
“Why?”
“Because I enjoy seeing you in my bed.”
She drags her bottom lip through her teeth, her green eyes lighting up. “It’s a very comfortable bed.”
“We can stay in it all day.”
“I need caffeine.” She drops her eyes to my mug.
“Coffee is made.”
She nods, shifting up. “I know this sounds weird, but do you have—”
“There’s an unopened toothbrush by my sink. It’s all yours.”
“How’d you know that’s what I was going to ask?”
“Princess, I remember you like to brush your teeth first thing in the morning. Except for the morning in Chicago, where you jumped me.”
Her cheeks flush, and she rolls her eyes as she swings her legs, scooting away. I watch her stroll to the bathroom, holding back a groan when the shirt falls to cover her ass.
“I don’t recall jumping you.” She glances over her shoulder. “I believe it was you who was responsible for convincing me to stay.” The door closes behind her, but not before I catch the sparkle in her eyes.
My dick jumps in my pants, having a mind of his own. “Jesus,” I stand, adjusting myself, “turning into a fucking teenager.”
I go to the kitchen and fix her coffee, taking out the leftover desserts from last night. The water shuts off in the bathroom, and she shuffles around mumbling something I can’t make out, but it sounds like flirty Ashlyn is gone.
I prop against the counter, waiting. When she comes around the corner, her mood has definitely shifted.
“Something wrong?”
“I think you should take me home.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I need to go home and do some work.”
“Try again.”
“I’ll call an Uber.” She moves to her purse, but I move quicker, picking her up and setting her on the counter, nudging between her legs.
“Not so fast, Princess. What’s got you upset?”
She avoids my eyes, staring out my back windows, but not before I catch the same expression pointed at Renee last night before she knew who she was.
Jealousy.
Then it strikes what could have set this off. “Maya and Cole spend the night and are notorious for forgetting their toothbrushes. Darby stocks my house and my parents’ with extra, so you can thank her.”
She jerks, bringing her eyes to mine. “I—I figured… I didn’t think… God, it’s none of my business.”
“You’re sleeping in my bed. You should consider it your business. Ashlyn, the last woman to sleep in my bed was when I was twenty-seven years old.” I take her face in my hands and run my lips across her forehead. “Until last night.”
She grips my forearms. “What is wrong with me?”
“Nothing is wrong. The color green looks good on you.”
She shoves hard, groaning when I only move a few inches. “Such a guy! I am not a jealous person.”
“Of course not,” I tease, handing her the mug of coffee.
With the first sip, her eyes grow rounder. “You remembered how I like my coffee?”
“When it comes to you, I didn’t forget anything.”
Her expression grows thoughtful, and she visibly relaxes. “I’m sorry I fell asleep on you last night.”