Millie

The next morning, I walked into the kitchen to find it empty. Of course, it was an ungodly hour for a Sunday, but tossing and turning had lost its appeal two hours ago. My brain could not rest because it was far too busy searching for a way out of this predicament, and every single time my thoughts took a break from danger and doom, they turned to the man down the hallway. Then my body took over with its demands, and when my hands could not ease the ache, I dug through my suitcases and retrieved my trusty, battery operated boyfriend, wincing when its vibrations filled the room before I could muffle them between my thighs.

My cheeks pinked as I recalled gasping and burying my face into my pillow, teeth sinking into the soft pillowcase to muffle the moans as I came harder than I'd ever done with my toy before. As hard as I'd come in the shower both times earlier in the day, and the only common denominator was the man in my fantasies. The man I could have had if I'd only been willing to tell him the truth.

"Shit," I muttered. Coffee spilled over the rim of the mug and landed on my thumb. The deep black liquid touched the top and more sloshed over the edges when I attempted to lift it. Squatting low, I sipped away the excess liquid and tried not to grimace at the bitterness. Anna was right — the man really made terrible coffee.

"What are you doing?"

I leapt back. Spinning, my hand went wide, striking the mug, and sending the coffee splashing over the white quartz countertops. We both went into action, snatching up towels and running water, mopping up the spill until the surface gleamed.

"Sorry. That was clumsy of me."

He poured another cup—this one perfectly filled—then added a generous splash of sweetened cream to it before handing it over. When the hell had he learned how I drank my coffee?

Lochlan fixed his own cup and took a sip, watching me over the rim. I expected to find anger in his expression after the way we left things last night, but if he was upset, he hid it well. In fact, he looked amused, and more than a little pleased. "Trouble sleeping?"

Sweet liquid lodged itself in my throat like a stone and clearing it irritated my still sore throat. "Fine. I slept fine."

"Good. I was worried. I got up to get a bottle of water from the fridge a few hours ago and thought I heard you still up."

I resisted the urge to throw my drink at him. Anything to wipe that smug smirk from his stupid, perfect face because he knew precisely what had kept me up, and he thought he had something to do with. And damn him... it would make me more of a liar than I already was if I said it wasn't true.

"Are you always up this early?" I redirected.

"Not quite. I didn't sleep well myself." All the amusement faded. "Millie, about last night."

"There's nothing to talk about, Lochlan. I told you what I can tell you. I should go."

He bristled. "You want to walk out there with no one watching your back? After what happened the other day?"

"I have someone."

"Oh yes, Marcus." Lochlan put on a show of scanning the room. "The not boyfriend who abandoned you to live with a stranger. Where is he Millie? How has he been hurt in all this?"

"It doesn't matter."

For a single, heavenly moment, I'd thought I could tell him everything, but after spending time with Alex and seeing what this entire charade was doing to Anna, I refused to bring them into it further. If I left here now, I could go into hiding, or maybe whatever Marcus claimed he had in the works would pan out. We could have our lives back.

A voice whispered that was more of a fantasy than my lust filled imaginings in the darkness of the bedroom.

"Stop it," he commanded. "I'm telling you it does to me."

"You don't even know me," I shouted. "We met five days ago. We're strangers."

Something flickered behind his eyes, and his mouth tightened. If he was anyone else, I might say it hurt his feelings. His mug hit the countertop so hard it cracked, and he took a menacing step forward.

"Millie Gordon. Twenty-three years old. Graduated high school in Seattle. Loves photography and has a fairly decent following on Instagram. Regular volunteer at the Soup Kitchen. Sucker for puppy videos. Has an absurd amount of shoes saved to a wishlist."

My fingers spread over his chest, halting his progress. "Those are mostly facts you can pull from the Internet, though some of them sound a little more invasive."

His fingers went around my wrist like hot, iron bands, and he pushed my hand upward, keeping contact on his body—up his neck, over his jaw, and pausing just below his lips. Eyes locked on mine, he dipped his head and pulled my pointer finger into his mouth and sucked hard before laving the digit with a swirl of his tongue.

"Honey brown eyes with flecks of cinnamon that darken when she's aroused, and she unconsciously shifts her feet so her stance is wider, more open. But my favorite fact is that she makes these little mewling noises when something feels good."

I swallowed and glanced down to find I have spread my legs wider in invitation. "That doesn't mean you know me."

"Doesn't it?" Lochlan slid his knee between my leg and raised it, putting pressure right where I wanted it most and dragging one of those damned gasps from me before I could stop it. "I know I have never met another woman who has driven me this mad with lust before, and if..."

Rocking on him, sparks building in my center, I asked, "If what?"

"If you really had been just a woman I met in the coffee shop, I would already know what you feel like from the inside."

"Yes," I admitted as my orgasm washed over me, and I fell forward, hiding my face against his chest as my legs shook. It was small compared to last night and did little more than make me want more.

Lochlan stroked my hair and lowered his leg. There was a faint damp spot on his sweats, but I couldn't find it in me to be embarrassed. He held me until my breathing evened out, and I wondered what came next. If he touched me again, I would willingly welcome him into my body, but despite the hardness I could feel against my stomach, there was a tension in the rest of his limbs that suggested he wouldn't seek his own satisfaction. Not while my lies put a wedge between us.

"Is this your plan, then?" I asked, pulling back and pushing damp hair out of my eyes.

Finger and thumb clenched my chin and held me still while he lowered his head to place a tender kiss on my mouth. "What plan?"

"Drive me mad with temptation until I spill all my secrets?"

His mouth twitched against mine, and when he released me, there was a smile on his face. One that didn't hide the shadows in his eyes. "Is it working?"

Yes. "No. I won't keep putting you and your family in danger."

"Let me worry about the Reeds. No one will put a fucking hand on them."

"But what about you? Who worries about you?"

"Millie..."

A knock on the door cut off any further discussion, and I exhaled in relief when he moved away, drawing in air not filled with his scent. Air that could actually cleanse the dense fog clouding rational thought, and while he talked to whoever was on the other side of the door, a plan formed. It would mean leaving most of my belongings behind. Starting over completely.

But—I looked at Lochlan and blinked to fight back a rush of tears. I had to do it. To protect him from himself.