13. Lydia
13
LYDIA
T here was something very domestic about Miles helping in the kitchen. He rolled his shirt sleeves up, exposing powerful forearms. I don’t know what it was about a man in a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, but it was so damned attractive. And there he was in the kitchen, looking completely out of place and somehow, completely perfect. The bell from the front desk sounded.
“Oh, crap,” I said. My hands were covered in orange juice and cilantro with flecks of finely chopped onion.
Miles picked up a dish towel and turned on the sink. “I can’t check someone in for you. I don’t know how your system works, but I can finish dinner.”
He guided me to the sink and washed my hands for me like I was some little kid. His long arms wrapped around me, and he rubbed soap in his palms until he had a frothy lather. He washed, rinsed, and then patted my hands dry on the towel.
I kissed him on the cheek before scurrying out to the front. A couple with suitcases stood with impatient looks on their faces as they waited for me. I pressed my hands down against the apron I still wore as I walked around the desk. “Sorry about that,” I said. “I was just putting my dinner together. You must be…” I checked the notes on the computer. “The Fondas?” I asked.
The woman looked around as the man grunted an affirmative sound.
“Are you the chef too?” she asked.
“Oh, no. We don’t have a restaurant here. I was literally making my dinner,” I said. There were hazards to living at the inn. Mealtime was one of them.
“No? Where can we eat around here?” she asked.
I directed them to the diner a few blocks away.
“We saw that as we drove in. Is there anything else?” she asked.
“Not unless you want pizza delivery. We don’t have many restaurants in town. You would have to go back out to the freeway,” I said.
She continued to make other unhappy noises about the food situation, but I really couldn’t be bothered. It wasn’t my fault. No one seemed to understand that I didn’t have a restaurant onsite. There was literally no mention of dining facilities in any of the promotional materials put out by the inn. Maybe when I got this place fixed up, I would consider expanding and adding a restaurant. And that was a big maybe. I had no experience running a restaurant.
I handed them their key and watched as they headed upstairs before going back to the kitchen. Miles was closing the oven door and setting the timer as I watched from the door.
“How long have you been standing there?” he asked.
“I was admiring the view,” I said. And I was admiring everything about him.
“Well, everything should be ready in about forty-five minutes. What should we do to pass the time?” He sauntered over to me and slid his hands over my ribs and down my hips before grabbing my butt and holding me tight against his chest.
I danced my fingers over the buttons just below his throat. “Forty-five minutes doesn’t seem like enough time to get anything done properly,” I teased. “It is more than enough time to get the job done.”
“You’re right, why be in a hurry when I want to take my time with you?” His voice was a low, sexy grumble.
“We could do something boring,” I suggested.
“Or you could pour us a glass of wine and tell me what your plans are for this place,” Miles suggested.
“Like I said, something boring.”
He laughed and released me. “Fine, I’ll go look for the wine. You have to have some around here someplace.”
“Of course I do. It’s in the pantry, second shelf,” I said as I pointed to the small walk-in pantry beyond the refrigerator.
Forty-five minutes in Miles’s company did not feel like much time at all. Before I knew it, the timer for dinner was going off. We sat, laughed, ate, and shared stories about living in a small town compared to what it was like in the city. I had only ever been there for school trips or weekends away and never really knew what it would be like to actually live there.
“Thank you for dinner,” Miles said, standing and reaching for the empty plates.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said as he began filling the sink with water.
“You cooked. I clean,” he announced.
I picked up the rest of the glasses and flatware from the table and carried them to where he stood rinsing dishes. “You helped make dinner too,” I said.
I pulled out glass storage containers and put what was left of the citrus chicken and rice away. I scraped dishes and loaded them into the dishwasher.
For someone who claimed to have professional cooks and cleaning help, Miles certainly knew his way around cleaning a kitchen. It must have been his growing up in a normal family situation and not as a super rich kid.
“Aren’t you going to rinse that first?” he asked.
“Why should I? That’s what the dishwasher is for.”
“But it won’t get everything clean.”
“Maybe not the first time, but you can always run the dishwasher again,” I said.
He laughed. “My mother always made me wash everything by hand before putting it into the dishwasher.”
“That’s a complete waste of time,” I said. “The dishwasher can do that twice as fast with less water.”
Miles closed the dishwasher and pressed start once everything was rinsed and loaded. I untied the apron that was still around my waist and dropped it onto the kitchen table.
“And now,” I announced, “we have time for other things.”
“Like what?” Miles asked as he started to stalk toward me.
I turned and started to walk away, swishing my hips back and forth to the best of my ability. “How about some dessert?” I asked.
I squealed in delight as Miles lifted me off my feet and carried me toward my apartment on the other side of the first floor.
“It’s a good thing I remember where I’m going,” he said. He didn’t even sound like he was struggling to carry me. And I wasn’t a light load.
He remembered exactly where everything was, and I meant that in terms of the apartment within the inn and my body. I had missed him. His touch stole my ability to process thoughts.
All I knew was that I wanted him. I needed him.
His lips against mine were heaven. I didn’t kiss him. I consumed his lips and tongue, sucking him into me as I pressed against him.
We tumbled together onto my unmade bed. Immediately, we were twisted up in sheets and blankets as we struggled to get out of our clothes. He seemed as eager and needy as I was. I sighed with a sense of belonging and satisfaction as I was finally able to smooth my palms over the firm planes of his chest and over his shoulders. He was so firm and strong, and the dark hairs of his chest tickled my fingertips.
I gasped as he moved his hands over my skin and cupped my breasts.
A low moan escaped his throat. It sounded as if he was as overcome with sensation as I was. Neither of us spoke. We made needy sounds of want and desire, moans and whimpers, and gasps.
I threaded my fingers into his hair. It was longer than the last time he had been in my bed. His lips trailed a burning trail of lust down my neck and across the tops of my breasts.
“Oh, yes,” I moaned. I lifted my breast, bringing my sensitive nipple closer to his mouth.
He laughed as he sucked me into his mouth. The sensation pulled on every part of my body. The throbbing between my legs pulsed hard. I needed his touch there. I needed his touch everywhere.
I somehow managed to reach between us and cup his cock and balls. They were hot and heavy against my palm. I stroked him and was delighted when he moaned and thrust his hips, increasing the stroke.
I loved touching him, loved being touched by him. We were frenzied with urgency. I wanted to slow down, to make these sensations last. But a strong tug against my nipple and a brush of his cock against my thigh drove me crazy. I may have wanted to go slow, but I couldn’t. I was desperate.
“Miles,” I gasped. “I need you.”
Abandoning my breasts, he brushed my hand aside and pressed my thighs apart. His expression was feral, dangerous. And it made me needy, so desperately needy.
I cried tears when he slid the tip around my pussy, bumping against my clit, teasing my folds. I stopped breathing when he slid into me.
He stretched and filled me to the point I thought my heart would stop. He rocked his hips, sliding back and forth. The friction wasn’t enough. I needed so much of him.
“More!” I demanded.
And he delivered. He pressed me back and captured my wrists in one hand, holding them above my head. I was his to do with as he wanted. He had me effectively pinned in place, physically and mentally. His touch rendered me incapable of anything other than this one thing. He drove me toward that edge, and I reveled in his actions as he pounded me toward an orgasm.
I screamed and seized when it hit. Wave after wave of undulating muscle spasms took over my body as my inner walls grasped at his cock deep inside me.
He was relentless as he pursued his own release. He roared and pressed against me as he spilled into me, hot and wet. He finally released my wrists, and I was able to wrap my arms around him as he collapsed against me.
We rolled to our sides, wrapped tightly together. His lips found mine, and he began kissing me with tenderness. I was already limp and weak, and his lips against mine melted me completely.
I slept satiated and safe wrapped in his embrace.