Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Emma
M y heart is pounding as I pace in front of the mirror, anticipation mixing with a healthy dose of nerves for my date tonight with Miles. My hands tremble slightly as I adjust the straps of my little black dress. The dress is a classic, accentuating my curves and making me feel sexy as hell, giving me the confidence I need.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing thoughts. The table is set with fine china and candles, creating an intimate atmosphere. I even grabbed a rare vintage wine from my brother's winery, a special occasion bottle that would pair perfectly with the seafood dish I have prepared.
The sound of a car engine rumbling outside my beachside cottage makes my stomach flip. Miles is early. I quickly check my appearance one last time, ensuring my makeup is flawless and my hair is perfectly in place. With a final spritz of perfume, I take a deep breath and open the door.
He’s standing on my doorstep, looking just as devilishly handsome as he did the other night at the bar. His brown hair is windswept, and his intense brown eyes lock with mine. His tall, muscular frame fills the doorway, making me feel petite and delicate in comparison.
"Hey," I say, my voice a little shaky. "I, um, thought we could stay in tonight. I've made dinner."
His eyes light up with surprise and delight. "Emma, you didn't have to go to all this trouble. I thought we were going out."
I bite my lip, feeling a little nervous about my reasoning. "I know, but I’d rather not be seen around this small town with the wine critic who’s reviewing my brother’s winery."
Miles closes in, taking my hands in his. "I get it." He brushes his lips against mine, sending a jolt of electricity through my body. "Now, let me see what you've cooked up."
I lead him into the kitchen, my heart fluttering with excitement and a hint of anxiety. The kitchen is my domain, but cooking for Miles feels like a whole new challenge…a domestic one. The air is filled with the aroma of garlic, butter, and herbs, a sensory delight that makes my mouth water. I made seared scallops with a lemon-butter sauce, a dish I have perfected over the years.
"Wow, this looks and smells incredible," Miles says, his eyes sparkling with appreciation. "I can't believe you did all this. I can’t seem to perfect peanut butter and jelly."
"I wanted to impress you," I confessed, my cheeks flushing as I hand him a glass of wine. "I know you're used to fine dining, but I thought a home-cooked meal would be more... intimate for a weary traveler."
Miles pulls me into his arms, his strong embrace making me feel safe and desired all at once. "Mission accomplished." His lips find my neck, and he kisses the sensitive skin, sending shivers down my spine. "And I have to admit, the thought of you cooking for me is incredibly sexy."
I laugh, feeling a little bolder. "Glad to hear it. But I'm not done yet." I slide my hands down his chest, enjoying the feeling of his muscles beneath the fine linen shirt. "I have a dessert planned, and I think you'll like it."
"Oh, I'm sure I will," he growls, his voice deep and hungry. "But first, let's savor this appetizer."
His lips claim mine in a kiss that leaves me breathless. His mouth is demanding, and I eagerly respond, our tongues dancing in a sensual rhythm. His hands roam over my body, cupping my ass and pulling me closer, as if he can’t get enough of me.
Breaking the kiss, I trail my lips along his jawline, nipping and sucking gently. He groans, his hands snaking up my bare thighs and under my dress. "You're driving me crazy, Emma. I want to taste every inch of you."
His words send a wave of desire through me. I want him, too, need him. With nimble fingers, I unbutton his shirt, revealing his chiseled chest. I kiss my way down his torso, my hands working on his belt, eager to free him from his clothing.
"Impatient, are we?" he teases, his breath hot against my ear.
"You have no idea," I whisper, my hands finally reaching his zipper and pulling it down. I slowly lower his jeans, revealing his muscular thighs and the bulge in his boxers. My fingers tremble as I hook them under the elastic, pulling them down to release his hard cock. It springs free, thick and heavy, a testament to his desire.
"Fuck, Emma," he groans, his eyes darkening with lust. "You're killing me here."
I kneel before him, taking his length into my hands, stroking him slowly. "I want to taste you," I say, my voice husky with need. "I want to feel you in my mouth."
He grips my hair, guiding me closer. "Then take what you want, baby. It's all yours."
I lean forward, licking the tip of his cock, swirling my tongue around the head and tasting the salty-sweet pre-cum. He tastes incredible, and I moan, encouraging him to thrust gently into my mouth. I take him deeper, my throat opening to accommodate his girth, my hands working his shaft in sync with my mouth.
"Oh, Emma," he gasps, his hips moving in a slow rhythm. "Your mouth is fucking heaven."
I suck him harder, my lips tightening around his shaft, my tongue swirling and flicking, driving him wild. Miles' hands tighten in my hair, his breathing becoming more ragged. I love the power I hold over this alpha male, reducing him to a quivering mass of desire.
With a growl, he pulls me off his cock, lifting me up and pressing me against the kitchen counter. "My turn to taste you," he says, his voice thick with need.
I moan, feeling deliciously naughty. "Go right ahead, but you might want to move the food first."
Miles chuckles, his hands on my waist lifting me onto the counter. He quickly clears the dishes, making room for our bodies. The cool granite feels refreshing against my bare skin as he spreads my legs, revealing my wetness as he pulls my dress over my head and tosses it to the kitchen floor.
"Going commando; I like it. You're so fucking gorgeous," he says, his eyes fixed on my exposed core. "I love how you’re so wet for me."
I arch my back, offering myself to him, wanting his touch. His fingers trace my folds, gathering my juices, and then he brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean. "Mmm, you taste even better than I imagined."
"Please," I beg, my voice hoarse. "I need you inside me."
He produces a condom from I don’t know where and rolls it on and then positions himself at my entrance, his cock hot and throbbing. With one smooth thrust, he fills me, stretching and satisfying me in one delicious motion. I gasp, my eyes rolling back, as he begins to move, his hips pounding against mine. The counter provides the perfect leverage, allowing him to go deep and hit all the right spots.
"You feel so good, Emma," he grunts, his hands gripping my thighs, lifting me to meet his powerful thrusts. "So tight and wet."
I moan, throwing my head back, my body on fire. "Harder, Miles. Fuck me harder."
He complies, slamming into me with primal urgency, his balls slapping against my sex. The sound of our flesh meeting fills the kitchen, a symphony of desire. I’m close, so close to the edge, and he seems determined to push me over.
"That's it, come for me," he commands, his voice rough. "Let me feel your pussy clench around my cock."
His words are like a trigger, sending me over the edge. I cry out, my body convulsing around him, my channel milking his shaft as my orgasm rips through me. Miles grunts, his hips jerking wildly as he comes into the condom.
We stay connected, our hearts racing and our bodies glistening with sweat. Miles leans forward, his forehead resting against mine, his panting mingling with mine. "That was..." he begins, but I place a finger on his lips, silencing him.
"I know," I whisper, my eyes sparkling with satisfaction. "Now, let's finish what we started. I’m hungry."
I grab my dress from the floor and slip it back on, laughing softly as I watch Miles catch his breath. He’s leaning against the counter, still looking at me like he can't quite believe what just happened. I grab a kitchen towel and toss it to him. "Here, wipe the sweat off. We're civilized people, after all."
He chuckles, using the towel to clean up as I head over to the stove to plate our dinner. The scallops are now rubbery, the sauce congealed under the kitchen lights, and the whole setup feels surreal, like something out of a movie. But this is real, and I’m here, making dinner for the man who just made me lose myself in the most delicious way possible.
“Okay, Mr. Dawson, how do you feel about frozen pizza? This is now ruined,” I say, showing him the pan of ruined scallops.
He grins, his eyes still gleaming with a post-sex glow. “Pizza works for me. I’m really liking this whole domestic side of you, Emma. It’s dangerous.”
I raise an eyebrow as I throw a frozen pizza in the air fryer and then sit across from him at the small table. “Dangerous? I think that’s your department, Navy SEAL.” I tap the familiar trident tattoo showing on his forearm. My brother has one on his bicep.
Once the pizza is ready, we eat in companionable silence, the soft clinking of silverware against the plates filling the air. It feels... normal, like this is something we’ve done a hundred times before, even though we’ve only just started whatever this is between us. But the weight of unspoken words starts to settle in the space between us, the casual atmosphere shifting slightly.
“So,” I say after a while, wiping my mouth with a napkin and setting it down. “Tell me more about your time as a SEAL.”
He pauses, his fork hovering over his plate, and for a moment, I wonder if I’ve asked too much. But then he smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Being a SEAL was everything to me. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but it shaped me in ways I can’t even explain.”
I nod, sipping my wine and waiting for him to continue.
“I did a lot of deployments, saw a lot of things that most people can’t even imagine.” His voice drops a little, his eyes flicking to the side, as if he’s trying to push away memories that are too heavy to bring into the conversation. “But it was more than just the action. It was the brotherhood, the sense of purpose. We relied on each other to stay alive. There’s nothing else like it.”
I can see the emotion in his eyes, the weight he’s carried from those experiences, and it makes my heart ache for him. “Do you miss it?”
He hesitates, then nods slowly. “Sometimes. I miss the simplicity of it, if that makes sense. Everything was clear in the teams. You knew who you were, what you were supposed to do. Out here, in the real world, things get…messy, confusing.”
I reach across the table, my hand finding his. “You’re still figuring it out, though. You’re doing great.”
His fingers tighten around mine briefly, gratitude in his eyes. “Thanks. But enough about me. What about you? I know you went to law school, but I want to hear the full story.”
I laugh, pulling my hand back and leaning into my chair. “Where do I even start?”
“Start with why you decided to become a lawyer,” he says, his gaze steady, genuinely interested. “What made you want to leave Pelican Point and go to Princeton?”
My eyes widen. “How do you know I went to Princeton?”
He looks sheepishly, “I looked you up today, as I’m sure you looked me up, too.”
Caught.
I take a deep breath, memories flooding back. “I think a lot of it was wanting to prove I could do it. My dad—he wasn’t exactly supportive of me leaving. He thought my place was here, helping out with the winery. But I had bigger dreams. I wanted to make a difference; you know? Fight for people who couldn’t fight for themselves. Princeton was my way out, my way of saying, ‘I’m more than just the winery.’”
Miles nods, his eyes thoughtful. “That takes guts, going against your family like that.”
“It wasn’t easy,” I admit. “Especially because my dad didn’t take it well. Brennen… well, he’s a whole other story. He’s always been the good son, the one who stuck around, helped out with the business. He’s been trying to prove himself ever since our dad… messed things up.”
He leans back, his expression more serious now. “I heard a little about that. What happened with your dad?”
I hesitate, my chest tightening at the memories. “It’s complicated. My dad made some bad decisions—financial ones, personal ones—and the winery almost went under because of it. Brennen’s been working non-stop to rebuild it, to fix what our dad broke.”
“And your other brother, Ryan? He didn’t stay to help?”
I shake my head. “You did your homework. Ryan’s in the oil business, doing his own thing. He’s always been more of a free spirit, more like me, I guess. But he and Brennen haven’t really seen eye to eye since… well, since Dad’s downfall. There’s a lot of tension there.”
Miles frowns, absorbing all of this. “Ryan and I served together in the SEALs, you know.”
I freeze, my wine glass halfway to my lips. “Wait… what?”
He gives me a sheepish smile. “I didn’t want to drop that bomb too early, but yeah. I know Ryan. We were on the same team.”
I set my glass down, my mind reeling. “So you’re here because of Ryan?”
“Sort of,” Miles admits, his voice careful. “Ryan asked me to check in on things. He was worried about Brennen and the winery.”
I feel a wave of emotions crash over me—confusion, surprise, maybe even a hint of betrayal. “So you’re here to spy on us?”
“No, it’s not like that,” Miles says quickly, leaning forward, his eyes sincere. “Ryan just wanted an honest take on how things were going. He didn’t ask me to interfere or cause any problems.”
I lean back in my chair, trying to process this. “Ryan sent you to check up on us,” I say, my voice slow and measured. “That’s… a lot to take in.”
“I know,” Miles says softly. “And I should have told you sooner. But I didn’t want it to mess things up between us.”
I stare at him, my mind racing. This changes things, complicates things. But as I sit there, holding his gaze, I realize something. I’m not angry. I’m not even that surprised. Ryan has always had a way of pulling strings from afar, of keeping an eye on things without getting directly involved.
And Miles… he didn’t have to tell me this. But he did.
“I’m not mad,” I say after a long pause. “Just… surprised. But I appreciate you being honest with me.”
He exhales, relief flooding his face. “Thank you. I didn’t want to keep it from you.”
I smile, reaching across the table to take his hand again. “Well, now that all the cards are on the table, let’s enjoy the rest of the night.”
He smiles back, squeezing my hand. “Sounds like a plan.”
We finish dinner, the conversation flowing easily again, the weight of our earlier revelations lifting. As the night stretches on, I find myself more drawn to him, more intrigued by the layers of the man sitting across from me. There’s so much more to Miles Dawson than I first realized.
And I can’t wait to uncover it all.