“You look perfect, Miller.” “You look perfect.” I stroke my fingers over his neck, and Ez shuts his eyes. “I fucking hate it, thinking no one made you feel the way you should feel. Dude, you’re a prince. I love where this is going between us.” “I don’t get why, though.” He bows his head, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Because I’m into you. That’s why. There’s no other why. I just…want you,” I rasp. “I want you near me. I want to see you feeling good. Because I do. When I see this look in your eyes” —I stroke his eyelid softly with my fingertip— “it hurts me. Like, it actually hurts my chest.”
