House Rules(63)

Before I could think anymore about it, the door opened and Miller stepped into the room, carrying a tray. The glass of orange juice was visible from where I sat, but from the smell of things, it might have been the only thing on the tray I’d be able to sample. He walked up to the bed without a word and placed the tray on my lap.

“Thank you,” I said, watching him intently.

Quiet and unsure: definitely two new things for Miller.

I braced myself and looked down at the tray. Holy hell. I tried to school my features, but it was hard when I couldn’t identify anything on it. The plate consisted of a blob of brown, with yellow peeking out here and there; mostly likely eggs. I could only assume the black, round things that resembled a discus from a track and field tournament were pancakes. On the small plate to the right were small black crumbles, the origins of which I couldn’t even hazard a guess at.

With care I picked up my fork and pushed the food around the plate. The stress on top of all of it became too much and a snort burst forth. My hand came up to my mouth. Miller had tried to do something nice and here I was, being a bitch and laughing. He flopped down next to me.

“Get it out of your system.” I looked up and noticed a twinkle in his eye.

The sound came out in great guffaws, followed by his own laughter.

“What is this supposed to be?” I asked between giggles.

He chuckled some more then pointed to each of the items individually. “Pancake, eggs and bacon.”

“Well, at least I got the pancake and eggs right.”

He shook his head, a mirthful smile still on his lips. “I have no idea how Ashton does this shit everyday. That was a pain in the ass. Everything I put in the pan burned, no matter how long I left it in there.”

“Have you ever cooked before?”

He turned to his side, tucking his feet underneath him and tracing small circles on my arm as he spoke. “Not really. When I lived at home, Mom or Ashton did the cooking. After I moved out, I ordered out a lot. Sometimes my housekeeper cooks for me.”

I rolled my eyes. “So you decided to try something you’ve never done before and you’re surprised it didn’t come out perfect?”

“Mom and Ashton make it look so easy.”

“Well, it’s not that hard, but you do need to know what you’re doing.”

I moved the tray off my lap and threw my legs over the side of the bed. One of Miller shirts hung over the back of the chair in the corner. I pick it up and pulled it over my head. Picking up the tray, I nodded toward the door.

“Come on, I’ll show you how it’s done.”

The kitchen looked like a bomb had gone off. There was flour and chocolate everywhere.

“What’s with the chocolate?”

“They were chocolate chip pancakes.”

“I see.” I glanced around the room, trying to figure out how one person could have made such a mess. “Let’s clean this up first, then we’ll get to work.”

I started for the closet to get the broom, when Miller grabbed hold of my hand. “Leave it, Mary will get it later.”

The room was a mess. I felt bad for the housekeeper, but I had a feeling Miller paid her very well. I went back to the counter with all of the ingredients. He had everything he needed already out. At least he got one part right.

“Can you get me a bowl and a mixing spoon?”

The amount of time Miller spent in his own kitchen, or lack thereof, became evident when he had to look through a few different cabinets to find what I’d asked for. It also said a lot about our relationship. Apparently, knowing his way around the kitchen didn’t matter as much as his business, yet he was willing to take time away from it to humor me.

I threw the stuff in the bowl and began mixing. Miller watched with an intensity I couldn’t explain. I poured the first pancake into the pan and turned the burner down.

“Shit.”

I glanced over my shoulder. “What’s wrong.”

He started laughing. “I never turned down the heat.”

“No wonder everything burned to a crisp.”

I flipped the pancake. A finger slid along my thigh where the hem of his shirt ended. “I love seeing you in my shirts.” He buried his face in the crook of my neck. I held back the shiver and pulled the pancake from the pan. We didn’t need more burned food in the house.

I poured the next one in and swatted his leg with the spatula. “Behave, if you want breakfast.”

He smirked and took a step back. I finished cooking the pancakes and turned to set the plate on the table. My mouth watered at the sight that greeted me.

Miller stood stark naked in the middle of the kitchen, stroking his dick. Every muscle on display was perfection. Slowly, I set the plate down, my eyes locked on his hands movements. I wanted it. I wanted to taste him.