Chapter 19
ABBY
I had no intentions of having sex in a lighthouse in Cabo when I set off on the hike a few hours ago, but I don’t have any regrets.
Maybe it was inevitable that we would end up in this situation.
I’m not a science girlie, but even I remember learning about the laws of motion.
An object in motion will stay in motion unless acted on by outside forces.
If Miles and I were both barreling toward each other, was our collision not inevitable?
We could have passed by each other, but I don’t think we were ever on two separate paths, just opposite ends of the same one.
Miles was always some degree of closed off to me in college. Always just out of reach emotionally because of the damage from his family dynamics. But today he was cracked open to me. His physical pain made him vulnerable, but he didn’t have to open up about anything else—yet he did.
And the sex itself? It wasn’t just good sex. It was…intimate. It was emotional. There’s something between Miles and I and there obviously has been for days, but this just turned everything on its head and made it all a lot more complicated.
Because before today, I probably could have left here and seen this as a fun vacation thing, where maybe I miss him for a little bit and then move on. But now? Now I’m in trouble, because I think I’m starting to have feelings for Miles.
And I still have zero regrets about today.
In the van on the way back, tucked into Miles’s side, a sharp buzz vibrates against my leg.
“What was that?” I ask.
“My phone,” Miles says as he digs into his pocket to check the text. “It’s Gray.”
“Is he okay?”
“Oh, yeah. He’s just letting me know he got to the resort. Flew out this morning. I missed a bunch of texts from him,” he says, scrolling through their conversation.
“Oh, I didn’t know he was coming.”
There’s a pang of disappointment in my chest. Does that mean we aren’t hanging out anymore after this? I’m leaving the day after tomorrow, and I was secretly hoping we could spend some time together tomorrow.
“Yeah, I sort of forced him to,” Miles says and goes on to explain about his brother’s app and the investors’ meetings and how he needs a vacation.
“He’s lucky to have you,” I say.
“Oh, I know,” Miles says, and his smug grin has me rolling my eyes.
The van drops us off at the lobby of the resort and Miles and I walk back to our rooms. In the space between our doors, Miles snakes an arm around my waist and brings me in close, his lips inches from mine.
“Have dinner with me,” he says.
“What about your brother?”
“I can invite him or tell him to get lost. Your choice.”
Miles plants the smallest of kisses on my lips, and I consider what I really want for the next two days.
I’m tempted to tell him that I just want it to be us.
I want the bubble we’re living in to last a little longer, with nothing and no one from the outside world penetrating the intimate circle of bliss we’ve created.
But it’s his brother’s first night here, and it doesn’t feel fair to demand that Miles spend that time with just me.
Part of me wants to tell him that he should just go have dinner with his brother and that maybe we could do something tomorrow, but I want to spend more time with Miles—not to mention there’s this other really small part of me telling me that what I want matters and that Miles would want me to say it.
“Say it.”
He’s said it the last two times we’ve been intimate, demanding that I use my words to tell him what I want. Courage in me rises to say what I want, to be selfish for once, but my instincts to push it back down win out.
“Invite him,” I say. It’s a compromise. It’s a little bit of what I want, and a little bit of what I feel like is the right thing to do.
“But right now, I desperately need a shower,” I say.
“Is that information or an invitation?” he asks, tucking his face against my neck, brushing his lips over the sensitive skin. A shiver runs down my spine. I thought he’d wrung me dry in the lighthouse, but the way desire stirs in my low belly tells me I am not at the end of my rope yet.
“Invitation.”
His eyes darken as he swings around the backpack and holds it for me to dig through and find the keycard.
I let us into my room, but before the door has even closed behind us, Miles is kissing me, hungry and desperate, as if we didn’t just devour each other less than two hours ago.
We kick off our shoes as he walks us to the bathroom, both of us feeling our way there and trying not to stop kissing.
Once we’re in the bathroom, quicker than I can blink, he lifts me onto the counter. I don’t miss the wince as he lifts me, but don’t say anything because I don’t want to make a big thing of it. He turns on the shower to let the water heat up and comes back to stand between my legs.
“If I didn’t have a bad knee, I’d be on both of them in front of you right now making you scream my name loud enough that the people at the pool could hear you,” he says and then crushes my lips against his in a kiss that makes me dizzy.
He presses me against him so I can feel how hard he is through his shorts.
It only makes me want him more. I’m clumsy as I take off his shirt and toss it to the floor because he’s trying to remove mine, too, and we’re trying not to stop kissing, and all the while the room is filling with steam, and I can’t tell if I’m hot because of that or because of the way Miles is touching me.
I lean back on the counter as he trails his mouth down my body, not leaving one bit untouched by his mouth.
Watching him worship my body like this again is devastatingly hot.
As if with every kiss, every stroke of his tongue, every mark he leaves behind, he’s done it out of supplication, not a sense of entitlement or an attempt to claim.
He kisses down my leg, my ankle, my foot, finally stepping back, closer to the shower, and leaving me slack-jawed on the counter.
I’m about to protest when he drops his shorts, removes his socks, and starts to walk backwards to the shower entrance.
I want him to come back, but I have no clothes to grab and drag him back by.
He continues to back up, a tempting smirk on his face, until he’s in the shower. He doesn’t close the door, but stands under the stream and waits for me, raising an eyebrow. I hop off the counter and discard my remaining clothes as fast as I can.
He lets me stand under the stream of water first, and for a second, I forget that we were in the middle of something.
I let the warm water wash away the sweat and rain.
I close my eyes, letting the water warm me.
With my arms raised, running them over my hair, I feel a light touch on my ribcage where my tattoo is.
A shape he’s traced a few times today. I was relieved he hadn’t seen it before today, and even felt embarrassed when he found it initially, but turns out I didn’t need to feel that way.
He seemed genuinely touched by its existence.
And his reaction made me glad I’d kept it all this time.
“You are so fucking gorgeous,” Miles says, both hands tracing over my ribs, my waist, my hips. He steps in close to press the length of his body against mine.
The edges of my lips tug into an involuntary smile. There’s no doubt my cheeks are pink, but the heat of the shower is probably hiding that.
He hooks a finger under my chin and brings my gaze up to his. “Take the compliment,” he says.
“You’re so bossy,” I say.
“You like it.”
“Do I?”
“Let’s find out,” he says, a devilish grin on his face.
He takes two steps back, the downlighting of the shower highlighting his muscles.
Water drips down his body, following the trails those hard lines create as my eyes travel with them.
Down his broad chest, his strong but softened belly, down the V-line to his very erect, very hard cock.
With one hand he starts to stroke himself, never taking his eyes off me. It feels lewd, and also incredibly sexy. Just watching him is getting me going. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, my eyes bouncing between his pumping hand and his eyes.
“You want this?” he asks, his voice low and inviting.
I nod, at a complete loss for words.
“On your knees.”
Without thinking about it, I comply. I’m on my knees, my hands reaching out to hold his thighs. I look up at him, waiting.
“Now be a good girl and put your mouth on my cock.”
I don’t hesitate. I take him in my mouth and revel in the groan he makes as he moves his hand from himself to the back of my head.
I don’t even care that he’s proving himself right.
I do think it’s hot when he’s bossy. I do like it when he tells me what to do.
He likes to be in charge, he knows what he wants, and he’s not afraid to ask for it or take it.
And if what Miles wants is me…well, right now the answer is yes.
I run my tongue along his shaft, enclosing his head fully in my mouth.
The noise he makes gives me so much satisfaction, knowing I’m bringing him as much pleasure as he’s brought me.
It encourages me to keep going, to give him more.
I bob my head on him, using my hand to pump the rest of him because he’s too much for me to take fully in my mouth.
He seems to appreciate the double effort, groaning and tilting his head back.
He rests both of his hands on my head, not pushing on me or forcing me, but holding me. A tender cradling of my head as it moves, working him to a frenzy.
“Fuck, Abby…it’s so good. That mouth is heaven.”
I dig my fingers into his thighs in response, enjoying the way the ridges and texture of his shaft feel on my tongue as I lick from the base to the tip, closing my mouth around him again. He groans appreciatively.
“You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth like that.”
He runs his fingers through my hair.