Chapter 21
Emma
I fell asleep again.
In my defense, my body gave out after the fourth round. Somewhere between dinner and the dessert we ate off our bodies after, Miles pushed one of my legs behind my head and let me have it. He was the one with jet lag this time, but he was still a damn lithium battery with no off button.
We showered and brushed our teeth before I went to sleep for good.
I lift my head from the silken pillow and crack an eye open at the clock on the nightstand.
11:42.
We closed the powder blue curtains that stretch from high ceilings adorned in crown molding to the walnut floors. It’s pitch-black in here, minus the thin rays of light peeking through the ornate fabric and the door to the secondary room, which is now open.
“Good, you’re up. Tired of hearing your ass snore.”
Miles leans against the doorframe with a smirk, wearing ripped jeans and a white undershirt. It’s a simple outfit, but he fills it out with a solid wall of a chest and the hard thighs he slammed into me for hours.
His body is a chocolate masterpiece. Natural in form and free of tattoos.
I wipe my mouth, checking for drool. “I do not snore.”
His chuckle is deep. It’s the same tone he used to demand orgasms from my body. “You sleep hard, kitten.” He shakes his head and flashes a grin. “Sounding like a damn chainsaw.”
“Shut up! You weren’t even in here.”
“Which says a lot.”
This fool.
No man I’ve been with has ever possessed Miles’s audacity. I’m used to flexing my dominance in the bedroom, used to men doing what I want and when I say. Miles is new territory. He’s blunt, doesn’t play by the rules, and doesn’t back down. He calls me on my bullshit. I’d be lying if I said I’m not having fun.
I sit up and tuck the crisp white bedsheet into my armpits. Miles has seen every inch of me, but it’s cold. “You’re up early considering your flight to stalk me.”
His tongue swipes over his teeth. “It’s not stalking if we have unfinished business.” He shrugs. “I only need a few hours of sleep, anyway.”
Sleep. Alone.
Miles staying in the other room shouldn’t annoy me, but it does. I don’t sleep with every partner after sex, and I usually go home or back to my hotel room by default. The bartender at the singles’ retreat was an exception, one I want with Miles. He’s in a league of his own. Not because his best friend married mine, but because of the way he cupped my face to kiss me and pulled me close to stare into his eyes. I didn’t know what to expect from having sex with him, but distance isn’t it.
My phone buzzing on the bed next to me brings me back to the blue and white room. Carter’s name flashes on the screen, and I answer with a sigh. “Yes?”
“Good morning to you too.” His voice is alert for almost six in the morning in DC. Must be a swim day.
“What do you want, Carter?” I put the phone on speaker and place it back on the bed. Miles clenches his jaw but stays quiet in the doorway. I don’t owe him anything—he’s only here to fuck—but I don’t need him assuming there’s anything going on between me and Carter.
A husky whisper breaks the silence. “It’s our day.”
Valentine’s Day is my least favorite holiday. Outside of Justice leaning into her Care Bear habits, I’ve learned to deal with it, regardless of whether or not it makes me itch. The cliché dinners, basic chocolates, and sappy cards. Who needs all that shit to profess love? I want to scream on principle every time I see a bouquet of red roses.
Miles flew in to see you on Valentine’s Day. That has to mean something.
Bullshit.
He wanted another taste, nothing more. My pussy alone is worth a trip across the ocean.
“Happy Valentine’s Day.” My tone is flat and lackluster, like this damn holiday.
Carter pretends to declare his love every Valentine’s Day because he knows I hate it. Nothing he says will grant him access to me the way he wants, so he’ll line up whatever flavors of the week he can and be a commercial holiday fuck boy.
Drinks and head with one woman.
Dinner and sex with another.
He’ll have roses and chocolates for each with neither the wiser.
Part of the reason I never subscribed to relationships is because I’ve seen men like Carter run game over the years. I learned to play said game and not let it swallow me whole. If the end goal is a loveless marriage for show, like my parents, I’ll pass.
“Is that all I get?” Laughter rumbles in Carter’s chest. “We’ll have to fix that next week.”
A knot twists in my stomach. “What’s next week?” If Miles leads with audacity, Carter isn’t far behind him.
“I’m coming to LA. Your father will be there toward the end of the week. I want to see you, Em. Maybe I could—”
“Nah, she’s good.” Miles steps into the room and heads straight for my phone. “Lay your head somewhere else, Crispin.”
“ Carter ,” he seethes but manages to even out his tone. “Miles. I didn’t peg you as a fashion man.”
Miles chuckles. “I’m not, but I support my lady. Find someone else to bother.”
My lady.
“Since you’re new here, allow me to help you out. Emma doesn’t let anyone spend the night in her house. You should make other arrangements.”
“My stuff is en route as we speak. We’ll get at you once we get back.” With that, Miles hangs up and walks out of the room.
His arrogance will have him six feet under.
“Um, rewind!” I jump up from the bed and storm after Miles, who’s now pouring himself tea from a floral pot that looks like a dollhouse accessory in his paw of a hand. “What the hell was that?”
“What was what?” Miles stirs in sugar and sits on a baby blue chaise lounge. He stretches out, spreading his tree trunks for thighs, with one hand behind his head and the other balancing the tea cup on his leg. The corner of his mouth twitches at my unsubtle glances at his crotch.
Focus off the peen .
“You’re not coming to California, and you sure as hell aren’t moving into my house.”
“Why not?”
“Because!” My hands slam onto my hips. Bare hips. I walk around naked in my house all the time, but I don’t make arguing ass-out a habit.
Miles’s grin dissolves as his gaze makes the steady voyage down my breasts to my navel. His eyes flicker when he reaches my pussy. “Who is Carter to you?”
“My father’s chief of staff.”
He considers my answer, licks his lips, and sips his tea. “You have until the time I finish this before I fuck you against that window.”
My inhale is sharp, but I stand my ground and ignore the threatening flood between my thighs. “Look, I took this further than it needed to go. It was stupid to pretend we’re dating. Go back to Jersey.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Yes,” I say too fast. The damn bulge in his jeans shifts, tempting me to stare.
He nods to himself, finishes his tea, and stands. “Okay.”
“Miles, I’m serious.”
Another nod. The empty tea cup is on the cart. Miles’s steps are slow on his way to me.
“I’ll tell my father we decided to stay friends. You’re off the hook.”
“I was never on one,” he says with a halfhearted shrug and moves closer. “Tell your father or don’t. I made a promise to Zo to be out there.”
“Good.” I suck in air but refuse to break eye contact when he leans down. Miles presses his hand against the wall and takes a slow drag up my neck with his wide nose. “This ends here,” I say. “We go our separate ways once we leave Italy.”
Carter’s call was the dose of reality I needed to snap me the hell out of whatever is going on between me and Miles. We’ve spent more time together in the last month than we have in the last fifteen years. I don’t do attachments, and I’m already questioning why he’s unwilling to share a bed when we’ve spent so much time between each other’s legs.
He lifts his head to pin me with a long stare. “You done yet?”
“We will be in a few days.”
His mouth crashes to mine, and we spend the rest of the day on every surface in the suite. When it’s time for dinner, we order room service. Away from foolish declarations of love and reminders of romance.