Emerald Eyes (13 page)

“Excuse me, Miss?” I call out before the redhead waitress leaves.
 

She looks at me with a smile.
 

“Could you bring me a clean napkin and a pen?”
 

Redhead says, “Sure.” and walks away.

“So you don’t like to dance?” I ask Mr. Miller, toying with the black straw in my drink.

“Never said I didn’t,” he whispers in my ear. His breath is warm and I smell the delicious aroma of his drink.
 

I would love to taste you right now...
 

“So you can’t?” I tease and he lets out a quick laugh.

“Never said that either.” Mr. Miller’s lips brush over the shell of my ear, making my eyes roll back into my head, as a wave of desire bursts in me.
 

If he keeps teasing like this, I’ll lose my job for sure.
 

“So why don’t you?” I ask intrigued and the left corner of his lustful mouth picks up.
 

“All right. Next song we’ll dance.” The finality in his voice is so grave; I don’t even bother thinking twice about his imperiousness. Clearly this man gets what he wants, when he wants it and how he wants it.
 

And so do I… or at least I use to.
 

The waitress is back, with another Buchanan’s En Las Rochas for Mr. Miller and a napkin and a pen for me. I ask her to wait until I write it and to deliver it to the DJ. Leaning forward, I write:

I appreciate the drink. I also have a song for you, Medina ft. Deadmou5 – You and I.
 

Listen to the lyrics.
 

I fold the napkin and hand it to the waitress. One big plus about dating a DJ, is the exposure to different variety of genres in the musical world; it broadened my taste in music from one edge to another.
 

Redhead walks away and I glance at Mark, giving me his mega-million smile. I nod slightly and my eyes shift to someone that makes me frown. Eliza makes her way to our table. She falls rather sits, onto Mr. Millers lap, making me move away so she doesn’t elbow me in the process of her descend. Eliza groans and starts muttering something into Mr. Miller’s ear. I feel my blood rushing in my veins as jealousy awakens in me.
 

This is really fucked up. We’re both playing a stupid game of jealous chicken, to see who is going to break first, Mr. Miller? Or me?

Mr. Miller rolls his eyes looking agitated and scoops her off of him. He orders a glass of cold water and tells her to take deep breaths.
 

Is she drunk? Already?
 

I look away, and my gaze falls on Mark. He’s reading my note but he’s shaking his head, smiling. Not the reaction I was waiting for. He actually plays the song that I asked for. The crowd on the dance floor starts whooping and screaming out of joy.
 

I guess they like the song…

Eliza takes the glass of water from the waitress and drowns it in one hit. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and hand the glass back to our waitress. Mr. Miller rises and holds out his hand to me.
 

“We’re up.” He says in a regular tone, but somehow, I still hear it over the booming music.
 

He’s taken his jacket off and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, showing off his sinewy forearms. I glance back at Eliza who is now lying on the couch with her arm over her eyes, and lift a questioning eyebrow at Mr. Miller. He calls our waitress over and hands her two bills, he says something to her and she nods then sits down next to Eliza.
 

“She will be fine. Come on.” Mr. Miller’s commanding tone purrs with that sexy rasp of his, sending tingles through my body.
 

I take his offered hand and let him pull me up. Instantly, he weaves our fingers together, holding my hand tightly and leading me towards the dance floor. Mr. Miller navigates skillfully through the sea of people, pulling me closer to him so he can shelter me from overeager dancers. He brings me to the center of the dance floor and pulls me in close. I start moving my body to the beat and as I lift my left hand, I see our intertwined fingers. In a blink of an eye, I’m being spun around, finding myself pressed to Mr. Miller, with my back against his rock-hard chest. His right hand is still holding my left, and his left arm overlaps our arms across my waist, holding me fast against him, successfully caging me. I gasp at our tempting proximity, at the heat that is rolling off of him, turning me on in a split-second. Mr. Miller’s intoxicating scent wafts around me, driving me wild with desire, softening my body against his hard one and when he rolls his hips into my behind, I feel his undeniable arousal. I turn my head to look into his eyes and find them hooded and intense, blazing right through me.
 

“Not the song I would have chosen, but this will have to do.” Mr. Miller whispers, his breath warms my ear.
 

He moves so skillfully, so sensually I think I might climax if he keeps grinding his hips into my rear. Mr. Miller’s dancing dominates me, showing me who’s boss. Literally. I can’t even bring myself to compare him to Patrick. Mr. Miller possesses me in every way. My heart races, pumping my heated blood faster through my veins and my breath accelerates, coming out in pants. My skin is perspiring; every place he touches is burning with heat and lust. It doesn’t feel like we’re dancing, it feels like we’re fucking.
 

Mr. Miller breath fans across me cheek as his hips masterfully roll into mine. He’s looking down into my eyes, so deeply I feel as though he’s breaking down my walls of letting him go, destroying my thoughts of what a player he is. As if all those warning signs just vanish and he sees into my naked soul. He sees how badly I
want
him. But then his words from before start circling in my mind, flashing like a damn neon sign.

“I don’t think this is very professional.” I avert my eyes, hearing my voice so husky and needy; I barely recognize it as my own.
 

Mr. Miller tightens his arms around me when I try to wiggle my way out of his domineering hold.
 

“No, it isn’t. This unprofessionalism will last until the song ends. After that, I am your boss and you are my employee.” He growls, his voice barely above a whisper.
 

My early hope of proof has died as quickly as it came. He just wants to show me he can dance.

Arrogant prick.
 

I swallow hard and slide my mask on, “All right then.” I look deep into his eyes, and my lips lift with a sweet deadly smile.
 

If all I have is this one dance, I will make sure it will be a dance he’ll remember.
 

I manage to slide my arms upward, out of his hold and turn to face him, still in his arms. I set my arms on top of his shoulders and link my fingers behind his neck. His silky hair brushes and tickles my fingers, feeling as silky as I had imagined. Mr. Miller’s arms tighten around my waist, pulling me even closer to him, molding my body to his. Driving me crazy with those sensual movements of his hips. My movements meet his perfectly, which makes me wonder about how amazingly mind-blowing we could be in bed.
Not that I will ever get a chance to find out…
 

I push that thought aside and focus on driving him wild, rubbing my soft full breasts against his hard pectorals with each shift of my torso. I throw my head back and my neck arches. I close my eyes, letting the beat take control of my body, relishing the sinful way his body feels, how his hands hold me close to him, possessively. I feel Mr. Miller’s warm breath on my neck, right before he nuzzles it with his nose, then nips it quickly.
 

I gasp as my eyes fly open at the touch of his nose gliding up and down my slender throat.
 

“You smell so delicious. I can tell you’re turned-on.” He rumbles.
 

A soft moan escapes my lips, and I bite my lower lip to get myself back in control. I lift my head and look into his eyes, lifting my perfectly arched brow.

“I can
feel
you, you know.” I whisper.

And he feels big… God damn it. There is no winning with him. There is always some type of a rule to complicate things.

A quiet growl rolls in his chest as Mr. Miller’s mesmerizing eyes burn with pure and basic male hunger. His arms tighten around me and he lowers his face to mine.
 

I want to taste you so bad… kiss me!

I tilt my head back and run my tongue over my dry lips, but then his face hardens. Mr. Miller closes his eyes and takes a deep cleansing breath. When his eyes open, they are cool and calm, all the fire and lust gone.

I hate how easily he shuts me out. How strong his control is. It makes me feel weak, like some wild animal that can’t control it’s basic urges. It makes me want to
break
his precious control.

As the last notes of the song play out, Mr. Miller’s embrace loosens and he starts pulling away from me. Reluctantly, I slide my hands down his powerfully cut arms, feeling each muscle tense and the heat that is radiating from him, scorching my palms.
 

“You’re a great dancer. Your body surrenders itself to the music so completely…” Mr. Miller’s voice trails off as he leads me back to our table.
 

“I use to dance ballet since I was six. I stopped when I was fifteen. They wanted me on a strict diet that I couldn’t follow… I love food to much.” the words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them.
 

“That explains why you move like a professional dancer.” He smiles a genuine smile that pinches my heart.
 

“And you? How did you learn to move like a panther on prowl?” I ask.
 

I settle into my seat and pick up my Mojito, drawing the cool and minty cocktail into my mouth. I watch Mr. Miller’s lips move but I don’t hear him, instead I hear
that
song. My blood turns into ice and I feel my face pale. The drink halts in my throat then trickles into my air pipe. I cover my mouth and cough as hard as I can, feeling the burn of the rum at the back of my throat. Mr. Miller reaches out to me but I hold my hand up, stopping him and continue coughing, trying to breath through the fire and overly sweet aftertaste. I finally stop coughing and inhale rapidly, heaving for air. Slowly, I turn my head, looking for Mark. His eyes burn with rage and an ugly sneer forms on his lips.
He did that on purpose. He must be beyond pissed.
 

Marilyn Manson’s voice still makes my skin crawl.
‘Tainted Love’... how apt.
 

I feel Mark’s eyes piercing mine, trying to remind me of that disgusting night, but I need no reminder. I force myself to restart my brain. I’m not upset… no, this is not me feeling horrifying fear or sadness, this is me feeling pure, undiluted rage. I’m pissed off. I find my clutch, holding it so tightly my knuckles turn white.
 

“Excuse me.” I say to Mr. Miler without even a glance.
 

He had to do it… had to mess with me one more time. Well, I’m not going to sit here and reminisce. This is not a walk down memory lane. Swiftly I rise, escaping to the top floor as quickly as I can without running. The moment I clear the stairs, I feel an arm wrapping around my middle, yanking me to a side corridor I’ve never noticed. It’s dark and a flash of panic flares in me. I scream, but my voice is drowned by the thundering music.
 

“Shh… it’s me. Relax, it’s just me.” Mr. Miller says softly into my ear.
 

His firm body presses me against the wall in a dark corner. I notice now a small lamp that’s mounted on the wall, providing a weak illumination and release the breath I didn’t know I was holding.
 

“I’m sorry, I… I didn’t know it was you.” I keep my eyes on everything but Mr. Miller’s face.
 

He really affects me. Damn it.
 

All the furious thoughts of Mark and that night vanish from my head as Mr. Miller grounds me to the wall. His intoxicating scent surrounds me like wisps of smoke, slowly stealing my sanity. He lifts his hand and caresses my cheek so softly; so tenderly, I feel my eyes prickle with unshed tears.
 

Why are you being so fucking tender? So fucking perfect, when you won’t let me have you?
 

Mr. Miller’s fingers move to my chin, picking it up slightly so I have no other choice but to look into his hypnotizing eyes. I find them stormy with too many emotions. It’s impossible to decipher what’s going on in his mind. Slowly, his fingers make their way back to my cheek.

“Are you all right? You just stormed off…” his voice fades away as his eyes study my face, finally settling on my eyes.
 

“I’m fine… I just don’t feel so good. I’m going to… to head back.” I manage to say while his long fingers caress my cheek unfalteringly.
 

“Your eyes are so beautiful,
you
are so beautiful,” he whispers.
 

Mr. Miller’s brows furrow slightly and I see emotions passing in his eyes, like some sort of internal battle he’s having with himself. His eyes keep changing their focus from my eyes to my lips, and I feel the air thinning as I breathe shallowly in anticipation.

Just kiss me already!
 

I wait and wait but Mr. Miller does nothing but press me against the wall, his eyes settling on my lips and in a moment of pure insanity, I throw my arms around his neck and pull his sinful mouth to mine.

His lips are soft and warm and he tastes like his drink and his own unique flavor that makes me want to devour him for eternity. I drop my clutch to the floor, my fingers knot in his soft and silky hair. Mr. Miller stiffens, but doesn’t pull back, so I tilt my head back, giving him a better angle. I run my tongue over the seam of his lips, coaxing him to open up but he remains frozen. Impatiently, I bite his lower lip hard and tug it back, forcing his lush lips open.