Pulling away from the kiss, I reach down and cup the side of her head in my hand, stroking her lip with my thumb, whispering, “You feel so fucking good, Mila.”
Her eyes are still sleepy as she responds by stroking her delicate fingers over my cheekbone, lips, and jaw. “You’re nice to wake up to,” she whispers.
I kiss her again and again, our tongues swirling and tangling wetly, our whispers and quiet moans growing louder.
Her pelvis arches upward and grinds against me.
I chuckle as softly as I can. “You keep doing that; I’m gonna make you pregnant.”
She laughs. “Then you’ll have to be engaged to me for real. I’m old-fashioned that way.”
I know she’s joking, but her words make my head and heart feel like a thousand stars exploding. One simple offhand remark has me picturing her like this: my ring on her finger, her belly rounded with our baby, her thighs and rump even thicker than they are now.
“That’s one way to fall in love and stop lying to my family,” I whisper. “Just go for it.”
One disadvantage of pillow talk in the morning is my brain isn’t thinking things through.
Mila freezes.
And I guess that was the wrong thing to say.
“Right. That.” Mila pushes at me, and I have no choice but to slide off her. She extracts herself from the tangle of legs and blankets, and the moment is over.
I regret that and say as much while watching her move to the bureau to rifle through her clothes.
“I’m sorry.”
“You know the fake relationship was all your idea, right?” Mila points out with her back to me.
I want to get out of bed and go to her, but trying to plead my case with a wild erection in my pajama bottoms is not going to help matters.
I lie on my side and tug the blankets to cover my middle. “I know. I shouldn’t have said that,” I admit, pleading with my cock to calm the fuck down.
Mila turns to face me and gives a sad smile. “I’m feeling overly sensitive. You didn’t tell me your family was so awesome. I’m not used to …anything like this.”
This makes me curious. I haven’t pushed her to tell me things. But I also want to know how to love and care for her.
“I didn’t realize how hard this would be on you. I’m sorry.”
Mila finishes brushing her teeth and spits. She shrugs. “I should have said no. You’re too good a person. I could have guessed your family would be full of too-good people.”
I’m not a detective, but I think she’s full of shit. But I’m not going to call her on it.
We separately dress for breakfast, her in my bathroom and me half inside my closet. The few minutes apart give me too much time to think. Something is changing about Mila. Something is coming to a head. I feel she’s about to explode, and I will be in the blast zone. Did I push this fake relationship too far? Was it wrong to blur the lines by cuddling, kissing, petting, and letting her give me a BJ in my childhood bed? Have we scrambled each other’s brains too much?
When Mila comes out of the bathroom, she zips by me and heads to the door. I step in front of her, and she jerks backward. My two hands land on her shoulders. “Look, Mila. I loved last night. So much. I don’t regret that. It didn’t mean nothing to me. I like you. That’s real. We may not be engaged, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have a real connection.”
“Ozzie. We can’t date. I’m attracted to you too, but my life…it’s too much. It’s too complicated.”
I smirk. “Don’t pretend I don’t know there’s a complicated backstory. And don’t think I’m going to run away when I find out.”
Mila blinks at me. “Oh, Ozzie,” she sighs. “Let’s get through breakfast and flag football and whatever the fuck, and try not to break your family’s hearts in the process.”
I follow Mila down the hall to the kitchen, where she transforms that pained face into the smiling, fun-loving future Mrs. Gwynn in the eyes of my family.
Yes, she’s definitely about to explode. And I plan on being right here in the blast zone to help her pick up the pieces. When she’s ready.