It took me a few moments to realize what I had just let slip. In that vacuum, I understood that I'd held back and now I'd added to the pressure inside. I had exposed my jugular. Right now, Miranda holds all the power. If she placed the heel of her Prada pump through my heart now, I didn't know if I could ever come back from that. I still clung to her, as the orgasms had stolen the last of my strength. Still out of breath and trembling, I forced myself to meet her gaze.

If I had frozen in mid-breath, Miranda looked like she was melting. Perspiration from taking me up against a door, and witnessing me come, twice, pearled around her hairline, and temples, and made the beautiful skin on her neck look dewy. Tears welled up in her eyes and clung to her mascara-painted eyelashes. Her lips created a trembling, perfect 'o'.

"Andrea?" she whispered.

"Yes?" My voice barely carried. I didn't think I'd ever felt so vulnerable in my life.

"You can't take that back." Her arms held me up still, and now she turned me around to face her completely. "A person can't say that and then immediately take it back."

My heart broke for her because there had to be a reason for the unexpected expression in her eyes. I couldn't look away. Everything depended on how I interpreted it. Then it dawned on me. Fear. It was fear.

"I could never take that back." I wasn't sure where my resilience came from, but this was both about reassuring Miranda and standing my ground. I shivered enough for my teeth to clatter.

"Darling." Miranda took one of the decorative cashmere blankets she kept around the house, this one draped over a chair below the s She wrapped it around me. "Come."

I stumbled along as she dragged me toward the den. My legs worked on their own volition since my mind was busy screaming, "She didn't say it back!"

In the den, Miranda pulled me down next to her on the couch. She held me so close, and I realized she was trembling as much as I did. "Miranda?" I murmured, because damn it, one of us had to say something.

"You're so brave." Miranda pressed her face against my neck where she sat half-turned to me. "And you must know…surely you understand…" She stopped talking for longer than I could bear."

"What?" I whispered, afraid that if I spoke aloud, it might jar her.

Miranda tipped my head back over my shoulder, her eyes locking me in place more than her hands. "Andrea! Do you really think I would want to be with you every waking moment of the day and even explain our—our arrangement, to my girls if I didn't love you?"

I wasn't sure what shocked me most, the fact that she raised her voice or that she just reciprocated my words.

Maybe she understood she nearly shouted at me, because her body melted into mine, and her eyes went back to clear blue. "I love you." Her words wrapped around my heart and cradled it.

"You can't take it back either," I managed to say through my free-flowing tears.

"Noted." Miranda kissed me and it was as if neither of us could stop. She tasted of both our tears.

I remembered that she hadn't come yet. Eyeing her carefully, I tried to figure out if she still wanted my touch that way, or if she'd fallen out of the mood.

"What are you looking for?" Miranda's voice was back to her usual aplomb, but she was smiling through the tears.

"Just trying to see if you're still horny," I replied, and it was a relief to see her eyes widen and then perform that perfect roll she was famous for.

"What do you think?" She nudged me gently against the backrest and then opened the blanket and straddled my thighs. She was wearing a skirt and unceremoniously bunched it up around her waist.

I placed my hands on her hips and then gaped. "You're going commando?"

Miranda bit her lower lip before answering. "I had a plan for your arrival."

"So you came prepared." I slipped a hand in between her legs, very gently.

"Yes." Miranda inhaled with a hiss.

She was very wet, and as soon as I made direct contact, her hips began to move. Slow. Sensual. Cupping my cheeks, Miranda bent to kiss me. "I love you," she murmured against my lips. "So much, it takes up my every thought as soon as I relax my mind." Grinding against my hand, she closed her eyes. "And this, the way you touch me, so readily, so eagerly…" She smiled down at me, her eyes dry now, "…wantonly, I've never had this. Not this way, like it is with you."

My heart was now a painfully beating puddle. I entered Miranda with several fingers, and she began to ride in long, billowing movements. I held her in place with my other arm. "And I love you. Without preamble. Without agenda." I met her every thrust and she seemed focused on her breathing. When she finally began to moan and whimper, I sped up my caresses, while pulling her closer.

"Are you going to come, Miranda?" I whispered in her ears and then bit gently into her earlobe.

"Yes."

"What else do you need me to do? Remember, I said I'd do anything for you." I turned my head and kissed her again.

"Oh, you…you…" sounding almost frustrated, she momentarily glanced at the ceiling. She still clung to me, and now she dug her fingers into my skin through my top. "Touch my clitoris." She made it an order, but I didn't mind. I used the back of my thumb and added pressure in small circles against her swollen clit. It created more moisture, and then the, by now, familiar flutters began inside her and turned into strong waves.

Miranda cried out my name twice and I held her even closer. I buried my face into her fabric-covered breasts and inhaled her scent. The aftershocks made her shiver, but finally, she went limp in my arms. I managed to tip us both sideways down onto the couch. I pulled the blanket from under me and pulled it over us.

"I love you," I whispered. "I've never felt like this for anyone else."

"Neither have I." Miranda tugged at a pillow under her head and then push another one over to me. We lay face to face, our breath's mixing as our bodies calmed down. I watched Miranda's features soften and the stress and strain mellow. The frown between her eyebrows was barely visible.

"I don't think anyone else has ever looked at me so intently." Miranda ran her thumb along my lower lip. I took the chance to kiss it, smelling myself on her. "It's as if you are mapping my entire being, inside and out, and I don't mind. That's not it. But it puzzles me."

"I can't get enough of you. It's as simple as that." I felt my cheeks warm.

"Well." Miranda pressed her forehead to mine. "I should work on the Book, but I don't want to."

I blink. "Really?"

"Yes. Really. I'm very comfortable, and I wasn't lying about missing you, so if it's all right, I'd like to rest a little here with you."

"Sure. I'd love that." How could I not? Any moment like this with Miranda, when we focused completely on each other without miscommunication, insecurities, or outside interference, was golden.

She nuzzled my temple and tucked the blanket closer around us. The muted light on the bottom floor helped lull us into that lovely, drowsy state just before sleep claims you. I reveled in it, and knew at this very instant, right here, I had never been happier.

###

Later, when we had eaten a late dinner and were back in the den, Miranda seemed distracted when she should be engrossed in the Book. Sitting across from her in an armchair, I noticed she occasionally sent me a furtive glance, and while I first didn't want to distract her from the Book, eventually I had to ask.

"Something wrong, Miranda?" I put my book aside. I had my laptop on the coffee table, but I was done with the first draft of my edits and captions. Perhaps she was going to be up for a preview of it? But at the pace, she was going through the Book, it wasn't likely. That was alright. I could wait and hand it in tomorrow at work. Right now, I was reading a novel I had been dying to start. Guess I was as bad at focusing as she was. I was about twenty pages in and I normally read like lightning.

Now Miranda pursed her lips—an infamous sign of displeasure that had now become sexy rather than fear-inducing—and raised an eyebrow at the same time, which perhaps did not bode well. "Why do you ask?"

"Aha. Answering a question with another question." I tapped my chin. "Should I be worried?" I forced myself to keep a light tone, but I thought I better know now if something else loomed on the horizon than what I had on my list.

"No." Miranda winced, and I figured it might have been because she sounded harsh when she didn't mean to. She tried again, with a softer tone. "No. I'm not saying it hasn't anything to do with you, but it's something I need to handle."

"Why?" I closed the book I'd been trying to read and locked my gaze on Miranda. "Will I screw it up if you tell me? Or are you trying to protect me from something, or someone?"

"Merely from stress." Miranda pressed her palms against the open spread of the Book. "You don't need that in your life."

"Too late," I said before I was smart and thought better of my word choice. Her look of alarm made me wince. "No, don't read too much into that. I mean, we have a lot unresolved outside of us." I flicked my fingers back and forth between us. "Between us, I think we're fine. More than fine. But we have things we'll need to deal with, little by little, or sometimes, maybe all at once."

"Such as?"

I knew she was tipping the scale back to put the ball in my court for a reason, but if that was what it took. Show trust and faith to receive it, right? I took my cell phone and walked over to her. "I made a list."

Her expression would have been comical if she hadn't looked so alarmed. "A list."

"Yes. Want to see it? It's very schematic so take it with a grain of salt, okay?"

Miranda merely held out her hand and I gave her my cell after unlocking it. She scrolled down my short list and only her suddenly raised eyebrows. "It seems we have the third bullet point of your list in common." Miranda tapped the screen with a perfect nail. "My first husband."

Ah. Now this made sense. "But you must worry about some of the other points as well?" I looked over her shoulder. Except the last, I mean." She wouldn't worry about Doug.

"All of them are of concern, albeit in different ways." Miranda shot me a glance. "You truly made a list."

"Yeah. Kind of my thing." I shrugged. "Sorts things in my head. Don't you ever make lists?"

"No. Why would I? Y. You do it for me." A quick smirk and then Miranda focused again. "I hope you will consider removing one of these items off the list immediately." She gave me a somewhat tight smile.

"Which one?" I looked at the list and tried to guess. Not my parents, and not Doug. Those were mine to handle and I was sure Miranda agreed. No, it was the one that she probably thought was already handled. Where I lived. "My apartment."

"Yes. You won't need that any longer." Miranda nodded as if to herself. "You're here now. With me."

I wasn't sure she could hear how that sounded, and I wondered how I was supposed to respond. "Don't you think deciding that now is moving a bit fast? It's where I live, after all."

Miranda looks like I've punched her. "That is what you consider home? A studio apartment in Brooklyn?" She sounded as if she meant to say 'in the sewers.'

I inhale and exhale and then attempt a reassuring smile. "I belong with you. In my heart and soul, that's what matters. I know my place is not very impressive, but it's where I grew independent after Nate, and I broke up. It's where I spent most of my evenings and weekends when I dreamt of you. There's a lot of history there over the last couple of years. So even if it's just a rent-controlled place in Brooklyn, it's what helped keep me in New York—with you."

"I see." Miranda's tone was non-committal, but at least she didn't sound angry—or rejected. Or perhaps I was grasping at straws. Perhaps non-committal meant she was just damn hard to read.

"Do you?" I asked gently. "Do you see this in the context that I love you with all my heart? That I want to be with you and build a future."

"Just not live here with me." The catch in Miranda's voice showed she hadn't understood at all.

"Officially, not yet." I wrapped my arm around her shoulders. Cupping her cheek with my free hand, I kissed her gently. "Besides. My apartment is not just a place I slept between shifts, it is also a tactical advantage, so to speak. As long as I have my place, nobody can say that you've shacked up with your assistant who is still employed directly under you. If said assistant still has her own place, that's at least something to throw them off the scent."

"I don't like this." Miranda pressed her face into my hair. "I don't like how someone could cheapen what we have, and that you already have to think in, what did you say, tactical terms."

"No, it's not ideal, but it's what we have to work with. Isn't the most important part to focus on mitigating what your ex hubby could come up with to hurt you if he wanted to? That's what worries me the most right now." I drew an invisible line with my finger down the side of her neck and in under her collar. "He's bringing the girls home tomorrow evening, potentially."

"No. He's not. Roy is driving to his home to fetch them. I won't have him barge in here—" She broke off and pushed back a little, fury in her eyes now.

"Excuse me? Barge in? Has he done that before?"

"Not while Stephen lived here. But before then. And after. He knows I won't cause a scene in front of his daughters." Pushing her bangs from her forehead, Miranda looked furious. "If my girls have let it slip that you've been staying here to recuperate, you can bet he's going to interject himself, all in the name of protecting his children."

"From me." I was stunned. Shocked, even, at how I never knew what kind of man Miranda's first ex truly was. Yes, I'd deemed him an asshole—but this? Had he always been like that, or was it something that escalated with her fame and notoriety? He was rich enough, so her considerable wealth shouldn't have mattered, but who knew?

"You misunderstand. It has nothing to do with the girls. He loves them well enough, but he is more interested in my unhappiness than their protection. I trust my children will one day find out what kind of man he is, but until then, I'm hoping they'll have a childhood worth the name when staying with him. I would debate his right to them, but never their right to him."

"You have full custody," I said carefully. I didn't want to assume that I could talk about these things, at least not just yet.

"That, and an iron-clad agreement drawn up by Leslie's best legal team. I'm sure he hates that, as his sub-par lawyers didn't catch all the fine print in our agreement." She sighed. "Now, that said, he can still cause problems if he decides it will benefit him. Or just thrill him."

"Sounds peachy." I pressed my lips to her forehead. "Good thing if we can talk more to the girls before they visit him again, don't you think? I mean, they're smart, and they seem to have caught on to some of our feelings, but they deserve honesty and not hear from anyone else."

Miranda's face softened. The tension around her eyes and lips disappeared and she threw her arms around my neck. "You mustn't think it will be your perpetual duty to disarm me. That's truly not on you. I don't know if it's because this is so new, but I'm apparently easily…toppled." She looked exasperated, but it wasn't toward me, I could tell.

"I understand. I'll end up black and blue for all the pinching I have to do to remind myself that I'm not actually in my apartment, daydreaming."

Miranda smiled, and I thought I saw her shiver. "I want to hear about your daydreaming, darling. The sooner the better."

"Ahem. What? Really? Not sure about that. In fact, I think it's a terrible idea." She honestly didn't know what she was asking. I had a lot of imagination.

"I suggest you let me be the judge of that—" A ping from her cell phone interrupted her. She tapped the screen and then shifted into work-Miranda. "Ah. Good."

"What?" I waited patiently.

"You have an appointment tomorrow at the Presbyterian. Eleven am. Move all my meetings between them and two pm when we get into the office."

I think my brain went a little crazy. First, I hadn't been aware that she'd managed to pull her infamous strings so fast, and then she told me, her assistant, to move meetings for her, because of me, her girlfriend. "Ah, sure. Yes." I swallowed her name, because I would be damned if I'd played assistant when we were at home and say 'Yes, Miranda' the way I did at work. This moved the item on the list that had to do with my job up a notch. If this minor thing blurred the lines for me, what wouldn't happen when the tabloids caught on?

"You look like you're about to fall off the couch." Miranda frowned. "We agreed that I'd help you with a second opinion, right?"

"Yes, of course. And I'm grateful—"

"Don't be ridiculous. It's beyond important. It's your life we're talking about." Miranda took me by the shoulders.

"Yes. And I'm still grateful." I could be stubborn, and Miranda might as well learn. "I'll take care of your meetings."

"Well, then." She shook me gently. "You and my girls. You are what matters to me." Her intense gaze nailed me to the backrest of the couch.

"Same," I said quietly. "You and the girls."

Miranda tucked me into her shoulder and placed the Book on her lap. Grabbing her gold pen, she went back to work. I knew I wouldn't be able to focus on the novel, so I merely sat there, watching Miranda work her magic on page after page in what would become yet another issue of what Nigel once deemed 'a beacon of hope' for so many people. A few times, she asked my opinion, and twice she hummed in a way that sounded a lot like when she made love, and I knew I had argued well.

When she was done and we walked upstairs, she stopped me several times before we reached the second floor to kiss me, but not passionately and searing, like when she pressed me against the closet door earlier, but with slow, deep, and needy kisses that showed the love we now dared to express verbally.

I kissed her back, and I admit I whimpered her name when we finally reached the level where her bedroom was located. She guided me into the bathroom and began to undress. I jumped up on the vanity and sat next to the sink, watching her as she put on one of my old, torn sleep shirts that I'd left hanging over the vanity chair this morning. My heart alternated between fluttering and skipping beats. She had already removed her makeup when we showered after making love before, and now she brushed her teeth and then we switched places. I removed my clothes and chose to sleep naked. I wasn't going to wear any of her bougie nightgowns—I'd rather go without. I brushed my teeth but looked at Miranda the whole time. She looked impossibly young where she sat with her feet dangling.

As we crawled into bed, I made sure I set my phone to charge and its alarm function to wake me in plenty of time. Once I switched off my bedside lamp, Miranda did the same and then she was in my arms. I held her, and I pushed everything else, but her, out of my mind. No more lists. No more worries about things I couldn't do anything about right now. There was only Miranda, and she was all I needed.

"Sleep well," I murmured. "I love you."

"I love you. Sweet dreams." Miranda pushed a corner of a pillow between her head and my shoulder and then tugged me even closer.

I inhaled her scent, which was harder to distinguish from my own these days as we shared her skincare products. Still, her very own scent was unique, and I felt warm and safe as I drifted off to sleep.

Continued in part 20.