17. Aria
17
ARIA
H e was pulling away.
By Friday night, I could feel it after spending an entire day without a single word from him. Not that he’d sent more than a couple of texts on Thursday complaining about being busy. I was losing him, watching him slip through my fingers with no explanation.
Ridiculous. He never belonged to you. It didn’t matter how many times I’d told myself that in the last few days leading up to the gala. Granted, Mom kept me busy working with the event coordinator, double checking a few late RSVPs, confirming allergy requirements with the catering staff at the Saint Regis. It wasn’t as if I had a ton of time to spend with Miles or that I should have been spending time with him, anyway.
There was a reason it mattered so much that I kept us a secret. I didn’t want Dad threatening to chop Miles’s balls off for touching me. That didn’t mean it hurt any less when my texts went ignored, like the one I’d sent at lunchtime.
Me: Hanging around the penthouse today. Waiting for dresses to be dropped off. Will I see you?
I hadn’t seen him since Wednesday morning when I woke up in his bed around dawn. He had already been up and getting dressed for a workout. Two days later, I shivered at the memory of how cold it felt in that room. Something had literally changed overnight. He was so unsettled after the party at Uncle Barrett’s. I still couldn’t put my finger on what might have gotten to him. No amount of scrutinizing every word of the conversations at the party brought me any closer to figuring him out.
It was silly to read too much into him—his thoughts, motivations, and past. The way he grew up was so unlike the way I had. I was overanalyzing it, wasn’t I? I couldn’t help it. I had never met anyone so determined to be an enigma. I had never so much wanted to solve a mystery as I wanted to solve him.
By the time dinner rolled around without a word from him, I was damn near beside myself. It was as if I was an addict needing a fix. How had I existed before him? I could barely remember. How was that possible?
The penthouse was as silent as a mausoleum. Mom had gone to the spa for a night of pampering with Aunt Lourde in preparation for the gala, and Dad was having dinner with the so-called hunk holes. I couldn’t count the number of times I had rolled my eyes at that nickname.
That left me alone, wondering if I should go out, not really wanting to. My heart wasn’t in it.
By the time I puttered around my suite on Friday night after ordering way too much sushi and applying a facemask, I had the feeling I was in too deep. Bumming around on a Friday night, eating dinner in my bedroom while feeling sad and confused because the boy I liked wouldn’t text me back—what was this, high school?
It sure as hell seemed like it since my heart almost burst out of my chest when my phone buzzed with a text from him.
Miles: On my way from the garage now. Long day.
My hands trembled with excitement. Right away, I wanted to make his day better somehow. Boy, I was in trouble.
Me: Are you hungry? I ordered an ass ton of sushi. I’ll never be able to eat all of it. I’m in my room.
Miles: An ass ton? I might have to come up just to see how much an ass ton of sushi is.
He wanted to see me. That alone was a relief. It helped me release the tension I’d been carrying around in me ever since things got weird on Wednesday. I tossed the phone on the bed beside the half-eaten containers of food, running for the bathroom to take off my mask and quickly brushing through my hair.
By the time he knocked on my bedroom door, I had tossed off my hoodie, leaving me in a pair of soft pants and a tank top. How was I supposed to know he would only text from the garage and give me no time to look a little less grungy?
He had taken off his suit jacket but was still in his button-down shirt and navy slacks. He looked tired as he removed his cufflinks and stepped into the room, eyeing the half-eaten feast. Along with that was my MacBook, where I’d been binging episodes of British Bake-Off. “So this is what girls do on Friday night that they don’t want guys to know about,” he mused, picking up the spare pair of chopsticks and snagging some fresh tuna.
“Oh, it gets much worse than this,” I told him, sitting at the foot of the bed while he sat near the head. “There’s a whole blood sacrifice thing, but that has to be performed precisely at midnight, or shit can get really dark.”
“Good to know.” Some of the tightness melted from his face when our eyes met, and he offered a weary smile. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I whispered. “You look beat.”
“That makes sense since I feel rather beat.” Popping a piece of salmon and mango roll into his mouth, he added, “This helps.”
I had to be close to him. What was this compulsion? The absolute all-consuming desire to touch him instead of sitting and watching him eat. I climbed onto the bed and crawled up behind him, kneeling so I could take his shoulders in my hands and knead them. “You’re too tense. It feels like I’m trying to massage granite.”
“It’s those final days, you know? Everything’s coming to a head.”
I giggled softly, nudging him. “You sound miserable. Aren’t you looking forward to expanding your business out here?”
“I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time,” he murmured. “That doesn’t mean it’s easy.”
“Of course.” Taking a chance, I leaned closer, letting my arms slide around his chest for a hug. “You’ve come really far. Don’t lose sight of that now.”
What did I expect? Something more than a half-hearted pat on my arm, I guess. There was something off with him, and I sensed it went beyond work. How was I supposed to help if he wouldn’t let me in?
Who says he wants your help? I hated that stupid, reasonable voice in my head. The way I felt went beyond logic and reason.
He craned his neck, turning his head to offer a brief grin. “Afraid I’ve polished off most of this,” he observed, gesturing with the chopsticks toward the now mostly empty containers.
“No worries,” I assured him. “I always tell myself if I order too much, I can eat the rest tomorrow, but it’s never as good the next day.” He got everything together and left it on the nightstand before kicking off his shoes. Somehow, that tiny gesture warmed me from head to toe, knowing he wanted to get comfortable with me.
I cared way too much, and it scared me. But so long as I was being honest with myself, it was a good kind of fear. A roller coaster fear, a bungee jumping fear. I would be safe in the end.
Wouldn’t I?
My train of thought brought with it a flash of inspiration. “I know what will relax you. Maybe we should go take a ride on your bike.”
“I don’t know.” His disinterested response made my heart sink, but I did my best to hide it. “I’m tired.”
He must have interpreted my crestfallen expression because he stood and took my face in his hands. “Otherwise, I would love to take you for a ride,” he murmured, stroking my cheeks before kissing the tip of my nose. “I’m really tired and slow, and you’re much too precious to take chances with.”
Just like that, all was forgiven. How did he do it?
It helped when he kissed me slowly and deeply, sinking his hands into my hair and holding my head in place so he could explore my mouth with his tongue until there was nothing to do but moan my encouragement. I was already wet, hot, and shaking, working his shirt buttons, spreading it open, and treating my hands to a tour of his exquisite chest and rippling abs. He pulled the shirt from his waistband, and I slid it away from his shoulders and down his arms before letting it drop to the floor.
“Thank fuck, this house is huge so no one can hear your moans,” he teased as he began exploring my bare skin, sliding the straps of my tank top down my arms, lowering his head to pepper kisses against my shoulders and across my collarbone. He knew by now the hint of danger, perceived or real, got me hotter. I would swear my skin was sizzling with every ripple of sensation going straight to my clit. It almost hurt, it felt so good.
When he pulled the tight tank over my head, I was shaking with need, moaning when he extended his tongue and flicked it across the tip of my nipple. “Or yours. Even so, we’ll have to be quiet,” I decided, biting back a moan when he scraped his teeth over the sensitive flesh.
“You think so?” Something wicked flashed across his face when our eyes met. I knew I was in trouble when he yanked my pants down to my knees without warning. “Turn around on your hands and knees for me. Let me see that beautiful ass.”
I was most definitely in trouble. That didn’t stop me from doing as he said, getting on my hands and knees with my ass in the air. “Perfect.” He growled, his hands sliding over my cheeks, making me bite back another moan. I would bite straight through my lip before much longer, but I wouldn’t have stopped him for anything, especially not when he yanked down my thong and ran a finger between my already slick lips.
“And the most beautiful pussy,” he continued, teasing my pussy with one hand, my ass with the other. I had to grab a pillow and press my face to it when there was no containing the mind-blowing heat building in my core and spreading through the rest of me. This was what I was missing. What I was afraid I wouldn’t have again when enough hours had gone without hearing from him. I was so sure it was all over, but now here I was with Miles working me the way only he could. The way only he ever had.
The way I wanted only him to do. “More… please,” I whispered, pushing back against him.
“That’s right. Keep doing that.” He lowered his zipper as he whispered, adding a thumb to my clit and working it in circles until I moaned into the pillow again. “Fuck yourself on my fingers, baby. Make yourself come. Let me watch.”
Throwing my hair to the side, I looked over my shoulder and found him staring down at the place where he entered me. I realized he was stroking himself with his other hand, transfixed, and the thought of him jerking off to the sight of me practically tore my body to pieces thanks to the sudden, toe-curling orgasm that ripped through me.
It was still coursing through me when he climbed up behind me and replaced his fingers with his wide head, pushing forward and filling me all at once. Instead of coming down, I was suspended in complete ecstasy, shaking uncontrollably.
“Don’t scream, now,” he warned in a breathless whisper, taking me in deep, almost punishing strokes that rocked me forward. “Be nice and quiet while I fuck this pussy. While I come inside you. Is that what you want?”
I didn’t trust myself to raise my head, so I settled for grunting and pushing back against him the way I had before. It was incredible, the way he filled me, almost stretching me beyond what I thought I could handle. And even that had pleasure in it, knowing he could take me to my limits and then beyond.
“So fucking sweet,” he whispered, his breath coming faster. “Maybe I should come on your ass instead. Paint it with my cum. Would you like that?”
I would like anything just then, with my body heating and nipples pebbling at his words. I didn’t know anything but this, right now, each stroke pushing me closer to oblivion. I welcomed it, worked for it, and never doubted he would take me there.
Though he surprised me, pulling out when I was seconds away from the finish. My dismayed moan was cut off when he flipped me onto my back and settled between my thighs. “No, this is better,” he decided, entering me again, this time lowering himself to his forearms and teasing me with a lingering kiss as he began to move again.
He was right. This was better. Looking up at him, watching every muscle in his face react to the pleasure, to the heat building where our bodies joined. “Come with me,” I begged, sinking my teeth into his shoulder to stifle a moan.
“Can you be a good, quiet girl?” he asked, grinding his teeth and slamming into me. Determined to break me. He wouldn’t.
“Yes,” I whispered, then bit my lip when his body crashed into me again.
I would never want anyone the way I wanted him, and this was why.
Nobody knew me the way he did.
Nobody left me wanting and needy like he did.
Nobody challenged me.
Nobody made me want to hold them like he did.
To comfort, protect, play with, fight, and come together like this at the end of the day and remember what it was all about—this fundamental connection.
I didn’t want him with my body. I wanted him with all of me.
“Come for me,” he grunted out close to my ear, moving faster, breathing harder. There was no resisting. I couldn’t have stopped the tidal wave if I tried. I gave myself over to it, to him, letting go before he drove himself deep one last time and groaned in my ear.
I couldn’t breathe, and it wasn’t because of his weight on top of me. It was because my heart was too full, expanding past my ribs, crushing my lungs, filling me with light, and making me wrap my arms around his shoulders, holding him close, running my fingers through his hair as he shivered in the aftermath.
It came out before I could help it. It was like water splashing over the top of an overfilled glass. “I think I’m falling for you,” I whispered in the sweaty, breathless afterglow.
Somehow, he went even heavier, as though his body sagged against mine before he caught himself. My heart went from warm to icy in the blink of an eye, my body stiffening. It was a mistake. I never should have said it. How could I have been so stupid?
“Aria…” He raised his head, doubts and confusion swirling in his eyes as he gazed down at me. I hated to see it and know he had doubts.
“It’s okay,” I assured him with as much of a smile as I could manage. It was better to gloss over my mistake than to bear the discomfort of what I had just set in motion. “Don’t worry about it. Forget I said anything.”
I wouldn’t forget. I would worry about it a hell of a lot—about my feelings and why he looked so distraught once I had shared them.