I Really Can’t Stay (A.R.’s Holiday Standalones #1)

Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

T he keys rattle in my hand as I try to fit the big gold one into the lock, my palm so slick with sweat there’s a hundred percent possibility I’ll drop them before figuring out how to open the door.

Standing behind me, Miller crowds my space, his fingertips ghosting down my spine, as he waits patiently. He’s making it even harder to think than it already is.

When I finally wrestle with the door, I push it so forcefully I trip through the threshold and stumble inside.

“Welcome to my humble abode.” On the outside I’m cool as a cucumber, but deep down the nerves have me feeling nauseous.

Miller lets out a low whistle as he walks in, shutting the door behind him as he looks around. “Very homey. It’s nice. Not exactly what I envisioned for you, though.”

“What exactly did you envision?”

“Something a little quirkier. Bright colors, strange knickknacks.”

“Well, sorry that my neutral color palette isn’t what you had in mind. I do love some pops of color though.” I gesture to the couch, where my bright green throw blanket rests over the top of it, and my red Christmas pillows adorn the cushions. “See?”

“Very merry.” A smile plays on his lips.

Tossing my keys down on my entryway table, I shrug out of my jacket, and lay it on the back of the dining chair.

My apartment is small and modest. An open floor plan, except for the bedroom and bathroom. Perfect for just me.

Well, me and Potato.

Speaking of…

“Potato,” I call out. “Pstpstpst.”

Miller laughs boisterously, and I frown in confusion. “What?”

“What was that noise?”

“What noise?”

“The noise you just made.”

“What? The pstpstpst?”

“Yeah.” He laughs again.

Rolling my eyes playfully, I tell him, “The universal cat call. You’ve never heard it?”

“Nope. The only cat calls I know are the sleazy ones.”

“Not a cat person?”

This is a pivotal moment. If he’s not a cat person, it’ll tell me everything I need to know about him.

Please be a cat person. Please be a cat person.

“I’m not not a cat person, I’ve just only ever had dogs. My parents aren’t cat people, though. They’re not a fan of the litter boxes.”

“That's what self-cleaning ones are for,” I scoff, mildly offended that people—not just Miller’s parents, but all people who do—let something as trivial as where a cat does their business prevent them from getting a cat. “You haven’t had pets of your own?”

“Just the ones on the farm.”

“Would you like something to drink?” Preemptively, I go into the kitchen and pull out two mugs.

“What are my choices?”

“Well, it’s Christmas. So eggnog, cider, hot cocoa, coffee, or the regular beverage options like water, milk, etcetera.”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“Coffee it is.” Firing up my coffee maker, it gurgles to life with the click of a button, then I busy myself, gathering the other ingredients in order to make a latte at home. Sneaking glances at Miller, I observe as he takes in my apartment, giving everything his full attention before he looks at something else. It’s like he’s getting to know me by examining the items around him. It makes me feel a little anxious. “So tell me about these animals.”

“Well, I do actually have a cat, but he’s a barn cat, so not much of a pet.”

He does have a cat!

“What’s his name?”

“Er—” He purses his lips. “Barn Cat?”

“Seriously, Miller!” I scold. “Your cat needs a proper name!”

“Well, maybe when you meet him, you can name him for me.”

Heat rises up my cheeks, and I bite my lip. “You want me to meet your cat?”

He shrugs, but a dimple forms when he tries to suppress his smile. “I think you two would get along.”

“What other animals do you have?”

“Penny, my border collie. Plus a horse, two cows, four goats, and a hoard of chickens.”

“Do they have names?”

“Must everything have a name?”

Looking at him with a wide-eyed sarcastic expression, I nod.

Dramatically, Miller sighs, then relents. “The horse is Palmer, and the cows are Chocolate, and Strawberry. The goats and chickens don’t have names, except pain in my ass one, pain in my ass two, you get the picture.”

“I want to meet them all.”

“You will. Now, where is this cat of yours? You’ve held me in suspense for long enough.”

“Let me go find him. He’s probably lounging somewhere, ignoring us. Make yourself comfortable.”

Miller pulls out one of the kitchen chairs and sinks into it, slouching slightly as he spreads his legs, looking as relaxed as can be. He looks like he’s been here a thousand times, and that pulls at something in my heart.

Walking into my bedroom, I push the door open further, and immediately see Potato spread out on my bed, laying in the sliver of sun that warms my blanket. He doesn’t bother opening his eyes until I sit on the bed next to him, forcing him to see who has interrupted his nap.

Scratching behind his ears, I press a kiss onto his nose. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead, I have someone I want you to meet.”

Scooping him into my arms, his side lays against my chest while I hold him belly up. As we walk, it bounces and sways in time with the red jingle bell hanging from his collar. The cute little Christmas tree and gingerbread man hanging from it swing with each step, too.

Potato’s face is scrunched in a smooshy-faced frown, and I can tell he’s annoyed by the way I am holding him like a baby, but that’s exactly what he is.

My furry baby.

Cue the social media “I just a baby” sound in my head.

Miller stands as I enter the room, and as I pass by the light switch, I flip on the Christmas lights that decorate my living room area, making my quaint little space more merry and bright.

As Potato and I grow closer, Miller’s eyes widen when he sees him, and he meets me halfway, letting out a guttural laugh. “Wow, he’s so…”

“Adorable? Handsome? He loves his compliments—better lay it on thick.”

“Uh, I was going to say large. But handsome works too.”

My cat gives a grumpy little meow.

“You’ve got one paw that’s lighter than the other, huh, buddy?” Miller tries to baby talk, taking Potato’s lighter paw between two fingers.

Potato meows again, but this time it's a little more high-pitched—his way of saying to stop holding his paw, I assume.

It’s obvious that Miller hasn’t spent a lot of time around cats, because I can’t help but laugh as he reaches out and pets the top of Potato’s head like you would pet a dog. His strokes are rough, and Potato’s ears immediately flatten as Miller unknowingly smashes his head further and further into his neck as he tries to retract it with each pet.

I’m laughing so hard I can’t breathe.

Potato isn’t amused, though, and struggles to get in an upright position, leaping from my arms and running into my bedroom again.

I’m not sure I’ve seen him run so fast in the entire time I’ve had him.

“Is it a deal breaker if the cat doesn’t like me?” Miller laughs, but rubs the back of his neck, looking a little nervous.

“I won’t call it a deal breaker, yet, but you need to do your best to win him over. Him and I are a package deal.”

“Noted.”

I touch his chest before I go back into the kitchen to finish making our cups of coffee. When they’re ready, I hand him a steaming mug.

The scent of coffee and peppermint permeates the air as I bring mine to my lips and take a small sip so as not to burn my tongue. “You said you wanted what I was having. I hope a peppermint mocha is okay.”

“Sure.” Miller takes a tentative sip, and I can tell by the face he tries to hide that it’s not his favorite.

“Too sweet?”

“Sweeter than I normally take my coffee, but it’s good. Thank you.” This time, when he brings the cup back to his lips, he takes a long gulp. That has to hurt.

“So, I wasn’t prepared to have a guest for Christmas. I don’t have any of the fixings for a typical Christmas dinner.”

“What was your original plan for today?”

“Honestly?”

“Of course.”

“To take a long shower, put on my coziest, albeit frumpiest, pajamas, and order Chinese takeout.”

“Oh, so you’re a Christmas takeout kind of girl?”

“Not normally. But this year…” my voice trails off, and I shrug, looking down into my cup.

Miller covers my hand with his and shifts them until he’s able to lace our fingers together. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I shake my head. “We’re practically strangers. I don’t need to trauma dump on you.”

Miller winces, and I immediately regret my word choice. “Look, Zee, I know we just met, but it doesn’t feel like it. It feels different. At least for me.”

“Different how?”

“Like I’ve been waiting my whole life to meet you.”

We hold each other’s gaze, and there’s a part of my subconscious that realizes this should be weird. This should feel off. I barely know this man, yet here he is, standing in my kitchen on Christmas Day less than twenty-four hours after the world’s most embarrassing introduction.

“I say we stick to your original plan,” he says, breaking the short silence. “Christmas movies, you take your shower, we eat Chinese.”

“That’s it? What’s the catch? Isn’t this the part where you should be trying to seduce me, or in a different plot twist, the part where you kidnap me and harvest my organs?”

“Last time I checked, it was Christmas, not Halloween, so no harvesting of any organs this year. Maybe next.” His dimple returns, and he pushes a lock of hair behind my ear. “As for the seduction, as much as I want to find out if you taste like Christmas, I like you too much to rush this past any point you are comfortable with. I meant what I said, Elizabeth. It feels like I’ve been waiting my whole life to meet you. I’m not the type of man who goes to bars, or clubs, or swipes through dating apps.”

I bite my tongue, guilt flickering through me as he mentions the dating apps. But that’s not typically me, either. I only reactivated my profile to set up some holiday dates. Aside from those, I was never active on the site.

“My life revolves around my family and my work. Julian’s a small town, and as much as I love San Diego, it’s not a priority to come down the mountain often enough to meet someone. Believing in fate has never been my thing, but it seems a little coincidental that you quite literally tripped and fell into my lap last night. I don’t know what that means, but I don’t want to take it for granted. I want to get to know you. I want you to know me.”

My heart soars as I stare into his shimmering brown eyes, unable to formulate words after his declaration of interest. It’s something a man hasn’t expressed to me in ages, aside from the flattery I received in SparksFly messages, but those were only surface deep.

This is something else entirely.

So, of course, I do what any sane woman in my position would do. I jump into his arms, forcing him to catch me as I smash my lips into his.

Sinking into the kiss, I melt against him as he rests both of his large palms on my butt, holding me to him as he meets me with equal ferocity. A whimper vibrates through my throat, encouraging Miller to deepen it.

Walking with me in his arms, Miller attempts to navigate his way through my small apartment, yet still manages to bump into the side of the kitchen table and the back of the couch as he leads us to the living room. I’m brought down into his lap as he sinks into the soft cushions, and my fingers curl into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to me as we kiss like we’re teenagers, desperate for each other.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Miller asks against my lips, playing with the hem of my sweater.

“Yes. Are you?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more, Snow Angel. It’s too bad there’s not a bow on you because you’re my gift this year.” Pulling my sweater over my head, he tosses it to the side. My lacy cream bra accentuates my breasts, which are at eye level for him now, and he sucks in a breath.

“Wait a second.” I giggle, then slide off his lap. My bare feet feel cool against the floor as I back away from Miller, wondering if I can pull this off. He gives me a pouty face as I walk into my bedroom and the moment I’m out of his line of sight, I spin and run to my closet.

Pushing the heavy wood sliding door, I pull down the unused box of gift wrap and search for the red ribbon I know I have stashed inside. Pulling it out, I grab the scissors too, then cut off a long piece. The satin feels soft in my hand, the shiny, deep crimson malleable as I tie it around my waist in a bow.

It doesn’t look as cute as I envisioned in my head, but it’ll do.

Unbuttoning my jeans, I push them down my legs and kick out of them. With a quick swish of my hand against my skin, I realize they’re a little stubbly, but it’s too late to shave now.

It’s not like I planned this. Thank God I did shave yesterday morning at least, or he’d have an entire forest to deal with.

Banishing my nerves, I fluff my hair and arrange it so it lays partially over my shoulder, then I reach up and pinch my cheeks, hoping to add some color. Emerging from my bedroom, I sashay my hips back as I walk in, and Miller immediately follows me with his gaze. His eyes darken as he takes in my mismatched bra and panties, and the bow I’ve wrapped myself in.

He says nothing, and with every step closer I take, and the lingering silence, I become more unsure of my actions. Miller's features harden slightly as I stop right in front of him, and for a moment he looks away from me, swallowing thickly.

Have I misjudged the situation?

Panicking, I word vomit, “I…you said…I just thought…it’s stupid.” I turn on my heel, determined to make a beeline to my bedroom again.

“Stop.” Miller’s voice is strained and commanding, halting me in my tracks, but I don’t turn to face him.

Embarrassment settles on my chest, feeling like a hot iron’s placed against it.

I jump when Miller’s hand touches my shoulder, brushing my blonde hair away from my skin. Peeking behind at him, I meet his gaze, still equal parts nervous and turned on.

“How have we only known each other for a day, Snow Angel? This is crazy.” His voice is low as he nuzzles his nose against the side of my cheek before pressing hot kisses against me.

Slowly, he works his way from my jawline, down my neck, to my shoulder, then turns me to face him. “The things you’re doing to me in here.” Placing my hand in his, he rests it on his chest over his heart, letting it linger for just a minute before he brings it down to rest over the impressively large bulge in his jeans. “And here… You’re goddamn perfect,” he growls.

With his free hand, his fingers find my chin and he grasps it, tilting my head back to kiss me in a deep, soul-altering kiss.

All I can do is whimper into his mouth as our tongues fall into a passionate exploration. He lets go of his hand that covers mine and allows it to wander across my body, sending shivers of need through me.

Walking us backward, his fingers find my bra and he unclasps it, the weight of my breasts forcing it to fall. It slides down my arms, and hastily I remove it, never breaking the kiss.

The backs of my knees hit the side of the bed and I stumble, but Miller's firm palm on my back stops me from falling. We kiss for a while longer before pulling apart.

Hooking his thumbs into the top of my panties, he pulls them down, sinking to his knees as he follows the garment down my legs. “Too much too soon?” he questions with a hint of hesitation in his tone.

I shake my head. “No. I want this. I want you.”

Stepping out of my panties, I kick them to the side, so all I’m left wearing is the red satin bow around my waist. Miller’s eyes glitter with need as his touch floats up my legs, his hands stopping at my upper thighs.

When our gaze connects, an unexpected surge of power courses through me. This rugged, handsome man is on his knees right now, for me, on Christmas . Winding my fingers through his hair, I gently play with the silky strands.

Our eyes connect as he looks up at me, and my heart skips a beat. My core throbs, silently begging for his touch.

“Do you taste like Christmas, Holly ? Like gingerbread, or maybe candy canes?”

“Are you going to find out?” I ask boldly, despite the slight shake in my hand lying awkwardly by my side.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more.” Sliding his hands closer to the apex of my thighs, he uses his thumb to pull my lips apart and holds me steady with his other hand. My knees grow weak when he brushes over the most sensitive part of me, and I inhale a sharp breath.

“Is this okay?” His thumb continues to flick back and forth over me, and I feel my arousal slicken with each movement.

“Mmm hmm,” I hum, tipping my head back as I claw at his shoulders.

Then I cry out.

Tracing patterns with his tongue, Miller devours me, fulfilling his promise of learning what I taste like. Wrapping his hands around the backs of my thighs, he keeps me still, holding me in place while he takes his time.

But time isn’t on our side. It’s been forever since I’ve been with a man, and I’m confident no man I’ve dated has ever been this skilled with his tongue. It hardly takes him two minutes of finding the perfect rhythm before I’m screaming his name as my knees buckle. My body melts against him and, as he stands, he scoops my limp body into his arms before immediately dropping me on the bed.

Pulling his shirt overhead, Miller tosses it to the side then kicks off the rest of his clothes. Through hooded eyes, I watch as his impressive erection juts out from between his legs, standing at attention like it’s fully ready for my command.

Kissing his way up my legs and to my lower belly, his lips stop just beneath the bow. Goosebumps form under his touch as he plays with the ends of it, loosening it with small tugs. “Time to unwrap my present.”

“I thought you already did that.”

“Not all of it.” With a final tug, the ribbon falls free, pooling on either side of my waist. He pulls it out from under me and bunches it in his grasp. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” My answer comes naturally.

“Scoot up.”

Doing what I’m told, I scooch back on my bedding until my back hits my pillows. Miller follows me, walking on his knees until he’s hovering over my body. Taking my wrists, he holds them in one hand while wrapping the soft ribbon around them.

My heart rate accelerates as he ties a knot in the ribbon, then begins to tie my wrists to the metal rung of the headboard.

“Ever been tied up, Snow Angel?” he asks with a smirk, testing the durability of the knot by pulling against it.

“No.” I shake my head.

“Just tell me if you aren’t into it, and I’ll untie you immediately.”

“Okay.” My voice is quiet as I watch him lean off the bed and grab his jeans. He searches his pocket until he finds his wallet. Flipping it open, he pulls out a condom.

From the looks of it, that thing’s been in there since condoms were invented. He knows it too, because his brows crease together as he looks down at the nearly destroyed wrapper in his hand.

His hair flops in front of his eyes as he looks at me. “This might not be good anymore… Dammit. I’m so sorry, Zee. I don’t even know how long this has been in there.”

“Don’t get laid much?” I regret the words the second they’re floating in the air between us.

Horrified, his eyes widen, and I try to diffuse the situation by laughing, but it comes out awkward and shrill.

“Oh, my God! That was supposed to come out as funny! I’m so sorry! Of course you get laid frequently, look at you, who wouldn’t want to fu?—”

He cuts me off when he slams his lips back to mine, tilting my head back as his palm wraps around my neck and he pushes his thumb against my jaw.

Pulling away just slightly, he leaves his forehead pressed to mine. “I don’t jump from woman to woman, and I’ve had that in my wallet for months . So, no, Elizabeth, I don’t get laid much, and that’s by choice. I don’t go sticking my dick in just anyone.”

“Oh.”

“And it looks like today I won’t be sticking my dick in you, either.” He groans slightly, pressing a chaste kiss to my lips before he rolls off me, laying his head on the same pillow.

My hands are still tied up above my head, but I easily turn my head to look at him. “No, please do.”

“Can’t.” He tosses the busted condom onto my stomach. “You might be the perfect woman for me, but I’d prefer to not risk impregnating you within twenty-four hours of meeting. Call me old-fashioned.”

“You’re old-fashioned.” I sigh, cracking a smile. “But fine. If you untie me, I’ll at least return the favor.”

“Nope.”

“No, you won’t untie me?” Instinctually, my wrists pull against the ribbon, testing the knot myself.

“No, you won’t return the favor. I have a strict ‘Elizabeth comes twice first’ rule that I must follow.” Pushing himself back to a seated position, he turns to untie the ribbon, attempting to loosen the knot as I try to think of a solid response to that, but honestly, he’s surprised me.

Realizing he’s at an uncomfortable angle, Miller gives me a lopsided smile as he crawls over my body, straddling my waist. Leaning forward, he works on the knot for a moment and successfully frees me. The moment I’m able to move, I use it to my advantage and slide further down the bed until he’s over my chest.

Leaning more upright on my elbow, I grip his shaft and start to stroke him from root to tip, watching as a wave of pleasure coasts across his features. “You know what they say about rules, right, Miller?”

Licking my lips, I flick my gaze to his, relishing in the way he's looking down at me with a heated stare, like he’s hanging on by a thread. Just before I guide his length into my mouth, I smile coyly and tell him matter-of-factly, “They’re meant to be broken.”