Chapter 691

Chapter 691:
Myron gave a small hum, as though weighing something in his mind.
Unable to read his expression, Millie glanced upward at him.
In his hands, a hairdryer had appeared from somewhere. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ.net
Guiding her toward a nearby chair, he gently took the towel from her grasp.
Could it be that he meant to dry her hair himself?
She reached for the dryer, but by then, he had already plugged it in.
“Stay still,” he said, flicking the switch.
A soft rush of warm air brushed over her, while his fingers threaded through her hair, untangling strands with unhurried care.
Though she had cut it not long ago, it had already grown past its former length. The low hum of the dryer filled the stillness between them.
With the glow of the room’s lighting wrapping them in a gentle haze, the moment felt almost intimate.
Lowering her gaze, Millie tightened her grip on the cup in her hands, heat creeping into her cheeks.
From his side, Myron watched her closely, taking in the fact that she was here—living in the same space, sharing his home.
This was a picture he had replayed in his mind countless times, a quiet longing in the solitude of his nights. Now, it had finally taken shape.
Even though she had yet to let him closer in the way he secretly hoped, he held on to the certainty that she would, someday.
For the moment, simply having her here was enough to fill him with contentment.
“Millie, I really… like you,” Myron said softly.
“What?” Millie raised her head, her expression filled with confusion.
His soft voice reached her ears, though the steady hum of the hairdryer blurred it into something she couldn’t quite catch.
With an easy smile, Myron gave a small shake of his head, brushing it off as unimportant.
Not long after, the warm air stopped.
Setting the dryer aside, he gently took the cup from her and placed it on the table.
In the next heartbeat, he leaned forward, his lips finding hers, backing her up against the edge of the table in a deep, lingering kiss.
A droplet slid from his damp hair, landing on her collarbone before trailing into the neckline of her pajamas, sending a quick shiver through her.
Their matching sleepwear carried the fresh scent of shower gel, and the closeness between them left no room to ignore.
Myron kissed her again, unwilling to pull away until the intensity in his chest finally eased. His eyes, faintly tinged with red, softened as he brushed a gentle kiss to her forehead.
“Go on. Get some sleep,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.
Millie’s gaze lingered on him for a second longer, as if swallowing words she couldn’t speak. She turned her head aside.
“Alright,” she said quickly, then slipped away.
Another moment in the room might have tipped them past the point of no return. The quiet patter of her slippers carried her up the stairs and back to her bedroom.
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.
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