thirteen | "yes, princess"

185 36 8
                                    

I was breathing hard

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.


I was breathing hard. Fast. Just like my heartbeat. Because I’d been in cars before, of course, but never had I ever been in one with Miller. My belly tingled as some kind of warmth draped over my shoulders. Miller drove his car like his did everything; with precision. Perfect. Not one time did his car swerve wrongly and never did he have to brake urgently. The ride was spent in silence as he occasionally kept glancing at me, obviously meaning to ask me the reason of my visit but since I did nothing than stare at him through the corner of my eye, he stayed quiet.

As we entered the underground parking lot, Miller masterfully flicked his wrist, entering his car in between a yellow rectangle. I watched him as he looked at the side mirrors, rotating the steering wheel with one hand, the other one sitting idly on the horn, without pressing it. And then he looked at me.

My heart stopped.

He lifted his free hand and settled it on the back of my seat as he turned to look at the back, his biceps flexing.

My heart roared back to life.

Cheeks flushed, his face so close to me I could smell the chai he had for breakfast, I watched him with rapt fascination. His confident expression as he backed the car perfectly into its space, how he wheeled his steering back to place and then pulled the hand brake.

I couldn’t not look at him.

Who knew watching a man drive a car would be that sexy?

“Watched enough?” Miller asked suddenly, his attention on his seatbelt as he unbuckled it and turned in his seat to look at me. Even with his mask on, I could swear I felt his lips twitch when I didn’t answer and only continued to look at him like a fucking dumbo. “You have drool forming on the corner of your mouth, Lily.”

I snapped my mouth shut. And shifted to look away from him. “Stop staring at my mouth. Pervert.”

“Pervert I might be,” he drawled and leaned closer, using his finger to tilt my chin towards him. “But when lips can be as sexy as yours are, I don’t think I mind being called that.”

“I think you must’ve taken my lie about you being my boyfriend too seriously for yapping away like that but, Mr. Jones, let’s make this clear,” I said. “This is professional. Only.”

“Was it for professional purposes how you kept staring at me when I drove?” His voice dropped. Seduction and amusement trickled from his throat as he said, “Or how you blushed when I backed away my car? Do you think I don’t notice the little things that happen to you in my presence? How you gulp. How your breath hitches. How you avoid eye-contact when you’re feeling too much. I may be a different version than the one you’re familiar with but you, Lily Archer, are the same.”

“Stop it.” I unsnapped the seat-belt and opened the car door to get out. His words. . . they shouldn’t make me feel the way they did. He shouldn’t be noticing those things about me and he definitely should not be commenting on it. I was brave enough to admit I found him attractive in my head but saying that, aloud, to him? It scared the shit out of me.

Love Me, Mr. JonesWhere stories live. Discover now