Chapter 18
Dax
I t’s late. I didn’t get off work until three, and then we spent hours together, Miles painting me…
and the sex… God, the fucking sex. I thought I’d experienced everything.
I love exploring, and I’m willing to give almost anything a try.
It’s important to me to express myself sexually, and I’ve never let myself hold back, but none of it, and I mean none of it , has ever compared to the way it feels being with Miles Tanner.
It’s powerful even though I’m the one giving up control.
I want to give up control to him, want to find that place in my head, the one where he takes my body, that no one has ever brought me to before.
It’s a fucking rush. It makes me feel wanted, craved, needed, and that’s always done it for me, but it’s even more potent and addicting with Miles, and it also feels different. Like it’s about more than sex.
This is usually when I get dressed and go home, but I don’t want to leave. I want to soak in every moment with him I can have.
“Are you okay?” he asks in that gentle voice I’ve never heard him use with anyone but me, and I’m reminded that there’s something different about me for Miles too.
“Just had my ass wrecked in the most delicious way possible,” I say with extra sass to my voice. “And now I’m hungry.”
“Oh. Do you want something to eat?”
Jackpot. Look at him giving me what I want when he doesn’t even realize it. I have a feeling Miles doesn’t ask people to stay afterward very often. “I was hoping you’d ask that.”
“Why wouldn’t I be down for you cooking me a late dinner?”
I’m about to be scandalized before I see the small smirk he’s trying to bite back. “Fuck you.”
“Or I could fuck you again.”
“Only if you’re good and cook me dinner.”
“I thought I was the one in control here?” he tosses back, playing this game with me and showing me even more sides to Miles.
He’s like a book with no cover, one where you don’t know what to expect, only to open the pages and find out it’s even better than you thought it would be, and that you can never guess what will happen next.
“The submissive one is always in control,” I tease, and he swats my ass, sending a delicious thrill through me. “Ooh, do it again.”
He scowls, but I can tell it’s playful. “No.”
“You’re no fun. Can I use your bathroom to freshen up?”
He points. “It’s right over there.”
I make sure to shake my ass as I grab my clothes and head that way. The low rumble I hear tells me he’s watching and likes what he sees.
I take a quick piss, clean up some, wash my hands, and get dressed before I head back to the living room. He’s not there, so I walk over to the painting again.
I don’t have the words to describe what I see.
It’s like Miles found all the parts of me, some I knew were there, some I didn’t, and put them on display for me.
He understands me in ways no one does, in ways I didn’t know I needed before him.
It’s confusing and unexpected. Honestly, I have no idea what to think about it all.
I was never supposed to like Miles, but I do.
I was never supposed to want to fuck Miles, but I love it.
I was never supposed to feel something for him, but I can’t stop myself.
I want more of every single Miles Tanner thing I can have, and I’m not sure I’ll ever get my fill. And while it’s scary—and again, weird and confusing—there’s not a part of me that wants to run away. I’m too hooked, too curious, too interested.
“You really like it?”
I jump at the sound of his voice right behind me. Somehow, he’d snuck up on me. He’s dressed, and it’s clear he freshened up too. “Are you a fucking ninja?”
“Just good. You really like it?” he asks again, and I realize Miles needs to hear it. He’s good. There’s no doubt in my mind he knows that, but he’s also human and scarred, and when we cut ourselves open the way he did, we often need to be told we’re okay.
“It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen. I love it. I’m even prettier than I realized.”
He chuckles, and I’m reminded how much I love being the one to make Miles laugh.
I follow him into the kitchen, where he looks in the fridge. “Sorry. No grilled cheese.”
“I’d like to lodge a formal complaint.”
“Do you want me to go get cheese? I can.”
I grin. Who knew he was a closet sweetheart? Sure, he likes to be a little rough and control my orgasms, but this guy is all heart too. “No. I’m giving you shit. I’ll eat whatever.”
“Is there anything specific you want?”
“You?”
He grins.
“But then, if this ass is yours, I guess that dick is mine too. Did we agree to be exclusive?”
“Exclusively having sex,” he specifies.
“Well, I didn’t think you were asking me to be your boyfriend.” What would I say if he did, though? I’ve never had a boyfriend.
“Food?” Miles reminds me.
“Seriously, I’m good with anything.”
He surprises me by pulling ground beef from the fridge. I didn’t expect him to actually cook a meal, but when he grabs a bottle of sauce from the pantry, I realize he’s doing just that.
“Have you always been an artist?” I lean against the counter and watch as Miles starts browning the ground beef.
“For as long as I can remember. I’ve always loved art.”
“I bet your dad is proud,” I say, but the look on his face tells me it was absolutely the wrong thing. “Okay, so maybe not. My bad. I’m sorry.”
“We have a complicated relationship. But no, he’s not proud of my art. He wanted me to do something practical.”
“Maybe our dads are long-lost brothers,” I joke.
“And now I’m fucking my cousin.”
“I mean, it wouldn’t be our fault. We didn’t know,” I tease, and he laughs along with me, before he sobers.
“It’s not like that with my dad, though. It’s not the same as what you described about yours. He lost himself when my mom died, and in that, he left me.”
Shit. I don’t know what he means by that, and I want to ask him so badly, but I also don’t want to push.
It’s not as easy for Miles to open up as it is for me, and I never want him to feel obligated to share anything before he’s ready.
Plus, we already had a heavy afternoon. I just want to spend time with him right now, so I say, “I’m sorry.
I didn’t mean to bring up bad feelings.”
“Bad feelings are always there.”
Jesus. Whatever he’s been through, he’s definitely been hurt. There’s so much sadness in him, so much pain. I want nothing more than to make him feel better. “But I bet I help.” I smirk.
“You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t,” he replies, and I wait, letting him decide where the conversation goes next. “You like spaghetti, right?”
“I fucking love it.” I push up so I’m sitting on the countertop, making myself comfortable, and Miles cocks a brow at me.
We chat about school and everyday shit while he cooks.
At one point, he walks by me, and I wrap my legs around him, pulling him close.
Miles comes easily, his hands on my thighs as I lower my mouth to his.
He lets me lead the kiss, and I take it slow, give myself a long, deep exploration of his mouth, his hands sliding up and down my legs, then my torso and back down again.
I nibble at his lips, relish the taste of him, until his hand lands on my throat again, squeezing just enough to make my dick plump even more.
“Be good,” I say, pulling away. “We’re getting to know each other, and then we’re eating. ”
“You’re the one who started kissing me.”
“You’re annoyingly addicting,” I admit, and I swear Miles beams. First time I’ve seen that. He seems to want me as much as I want him, and there’s something incredibly intoxicating about that. “I think the pasta is done.”
He bites my bottom lip, then heads back to the stove.
“You fucker,” I complain, but I like what he did.
We eat on the couch, Miles putting on a show about queer men in the military. One episode ends, another starts, but he doesn’t ask me to leave, and I don’t try to go. I don’t want to go.
“You know what I like?” I ask.
“I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
I chuckle at his grumpy response. “Cuddling.”
“Ew.”
“Aw, come on. It can be fun. Human touch is good for you. At least, it’s good for me.”
“I’m not the cuddling type.”
“How do you know if you haven’t tried it? Maybe you’ll like it with me.”
He watches me, one brow cocked, gaze studying.
“Maybe you’re the annoyingly addicting one,” he says but wraps an arm around me, and I settle against him.
He smells like paint, but also, strangely, like a cool fall day—when the weather is just about to change, and everything is orange.
I wonder what color he would see himself as.
He used yellow for me. Despite the dark edges, the shadows I see in him, I like orange for Miles.
That’s my last thought before I fall asleep.