24. Sustainable Pleasure #3
“In a friend,” I add, since I need to remind him. But also me. “So…the tear itself was pretty bad?”
The pizza freezes halfway to his mouth, and his expression shifts. That easy confidence dims, replaced by something heavier. “Yeah. It was.”
I try to imagine losing photography for six or nine months—how dark I’d feel, how lost. “That can change your perspective on a lot of things,” I say.
A shadow crosses his face, and for a moment, it’s like he’s somewhere else. “I thought my career was over. It happened at the end of the season, so I was out for half the next one. And when I came back…I struggled to play well.” His jaw tightens. “Which is why I ended up on waivers.”
I swallow, feeling the weight of his words. And my dad—his coach—picked him up after that. I tread carefully, unsure if this is a door we should open now. “I’m glad my dad wanted to work with you,” I say.
I’ve always admired how my father could see potential where others couldn’t. And knowing that Miles respects him as much as I do adds another layer to the knot of feelings tightening in my chest.
Miles’s features soften, but the storm cloud lingers. “He saved my career,” Miles says simply, letting out a deep sigh.
The silence stretches for a beat—one where we’re both clearly thinking of what’s at stake if we give in to good surprises again. My relationship with my father is everything. And Miles admires him too, and needs him as well.
“And it’s a hell of a career,” I say.
“Thanks,” he says, his tone full of gratitude.
Miles finishes the slice, wipes his hands, and points at the last unopened bag. “One more. Let’s do it, Shutterbug.”
I step toward it quickly, raising a hand. “I’ll get that one.”
Too quickly.
His brow arches as he reaches for it before I can stop him.
Oh no.
The moment he unfolds it, his eyebrows shoot up. “Oh.”
Followed by, “Ohhh.”
And then, with a grin so wicked I feel heat creeping up my neck, “Wow.”
I close my eyes and exhale sharply. “There are…a lot in there, I know.”
“A lot just became my new favorite saying.” He’s practically giddy, holding the bag out of my reach like a trophy. “Holy shit, Leighton. This is like Christmas morning and the Stanley Cup in one.”
I laugh despite myself, lunging for it.
He spins away, holding it behind his back.
“Miles,” I warn, though it’s useless.
“I’ll give it back…if you tell me what each thing is.”
“Oh god, I thought you were going to say ‘show and tell.’”
His grin turns devious. “Is that an option?”
“When you find that sex portal,” I shoot back, grabbing the bag. I pull out the first item, holding it up. It’s a standard vibe, but there’s nothing standard about the Os it delivers. “This is the Dynamo. Made from recycled ocean plastic.”
His brow furrows in surprise. “Sustainable pleasure—You’re killing me, Leighton. I need to find that portal right now.”
Want spreads in my chest, and even though we’re flirting with trouble, I can’t resist. I pull out another one with a curved end. “This is The Wand.”
His smile falters. His gaze flicks between the toy and me, his eyes darkening. He’s picturing me using it. “I bet it’s magic.”
I smile, but it burns off quickly as the air shifts.
His steps are purposeful, closing the space between us until he’s barely a foot away.
Heat radiates from him, and I’m keenly aware of how small the room suddenly feels, how easily I could grab the neckline of his shirt and tug him against me. My pulse rockets.
“And that one?” His voice is low, gravelly, as he nods toward the rose-pink toy.
I hesitate, heat flooding my cheeks. “It operates with suction.” I nibble on my lower lip. “It’s really good.”
His breath hitches, his chest rising as he drags a hand through his hair. He steps closer again, pressing his palm to the wall like he needs the support. When his eyes meet mine, they’re molten.
“If I stay much longer…” His voice is rough, scraping the air between us. “I’m breaking the friendship rule.”
My pulse thrums everywhere, my whole body on fire. “You should go.”
But he doesn’t leave.
He cups my cheek, his hand warm and steady, his thumb brushing against my skin as his gaze roams my face. “Send me a picture when you’re done.”
The words hit me like a hot kiss, leaving me breathless.
Before I can respond, he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind him.
I stand there, my pulse pounding and my skin tingling. The need rises higher in me, so high it’s impossible to ignore.
* * *
Later, I’m quiet as I imagine him pinning me down, fucking me hard, taking me apart.
My toes curl. My legs shake. A moan rises from the depths of my dirty soul. I swallow the sound as I come hard.
Then, with my cheeks still flush, my lips parted, my hair fanned out, I take a photo of my face and send it to him.
Ten minutes later, a reply lands.
Miles: Fuck me.
I roll my lips together, savoring his reaction. Then another drops.
Miles: You’re so fucking sexy.
My smile grows stupidly bigger. A few minutes later, my phone pings once again.
Miles: It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last that a picture of you has come in quite handy.