31
I wake up what feels like ten minutes later, but according to my phone is actually 5 hours later. The suite is bathed in the bright white light of late morning and I am nestled against Miles, his front pressed into my back.
I sit up slowly, trying not to wake him. He looks so peaceful in his sleep and I don’t want to disturb him. I also want to go and freak out in the bathroom alone. So I grab my phone from my bag on the floor and then head for the door.
I feel like I could still be drunk, or that my hangover is so bad I am dizzy, so I am grateful for the toilet seat when I plonk down and scan my messages. There are three from Emme and they get increasingly more frantic. The last one only came through ten minutes ago and I know she’s close to calling so I hit reply.
Delaney : I’m alive. We got exceptionally drunk last night so I’ve only just woken up.
Her reply is immediate.
Emme : If this is what it’s like to have kids, I don’t want them. I was close to marching all the way to Mayfair to put Miles in an early grave.
Delaney : I’ll tell him that.
Emme : How was your night? Did you and Miles pretend not to have feelings for each other?
I snort and then cover my mouth as I stand and wash my hands. I hit reply again.
Delaney : Sort of.
I leave the phone on the side while I brush my teeth, letting the tension build and getting a grim satisfaction out of Emme trying to guess what I mean. And, of course, she’s sent three new messages by the time I’m done.
Emme : What is sort of?
Emme : Oi.
Emme : Omg pls don’t leave me on read. I am dying, Delaney.
Delaney : We slept together.
Emme : Omg omg omg omg
Emme : I knew it
Emme : I’m so happy for you. This is incredible.
Delaney : Is it?
Emme : Wait, is he bad in bed???
Delaney : Absolutely not.
Emme : So what’s the issue??
Delaney : Well, what the fuck do I do now ?
Emme : Him, over and over preferably.
Delaney : You’re the worst.
Emme : Stop freaking out, honey pie. He wants you bad. And he proved it by railing you last night. Enjoy it.
I roll my eyes, locking my phone again and thinking Emme could be right but that the anxious angry woman in my brain is currently screaming at me for being a floozy and drunkenly sleeping with my fake boyfriend.
I take a deep breath then, telling the angry lady raging in my head to shut the fuck up until I’ve had coffee (and then she can really get going). I don’t need to freak out over this, do I?
I mean, Miles isn’t a total douchebag. I have to assume he likes me a little. Although, guys do sleep with people they don’t like simply to have sex, don’t they? I am so bad at this whole thing. I don’t know how to hook up and I certainly don’t know how to act normal about it.
The small panic I am having is slowly escalating into a full-blown meltdown when I hear movement on the other side of the door. I take a few deep breaths, remind myself I am a strong independent woman, and head back into the bedroom.
Miles is sitting up.
He grins that wolfish grin, eyes raking over me. I should feel self-conscious about him watching me, but I don’t. At some point in the night, I put my underwear back on, but apart from that, I’m totally naked. Miles’s eyes remain on me as I cross the room and come to the bed. As he watches me, I realise I quite like the appreciation. Or his, at least. I’m not sure how I would feel were he literally anyone else.
“On a scale from one to ten, how much are you freaking out right now?” he asks, as I climb back onto the bed and sit in front of him.
“I’m not,” I lie. He doesn’t need to know just how crazy I am.
He looks at me, raising his eyebrow, “You can’t fool me, Del,” he says, “I can see the cogs working overtime in your brain,”
The corners of my mouth tug into a reluctant smile, “Fine, I’m totally freaking out, man. This was supposed to be fake, and then we went and fucked that didn’t we?” I ramble because, of course, he could tell I was freaking out. He can read me like a fucking book and I still haven’t decided whether or not that’s a good thing.
Miles looks like he’s about to laugh, “I mean, yes, we actually did fuck that,” he says, and then he moves toward me, putting his hands on either side of my face and looking slowly at me, “It doesn’t matter what this was meant to be, Del. We don’t always have to stick to the script,” he adds earnestly.
I roll my eyes, “Will you tell the crazy woman in my head that, please?” I ask, “She’s got a pitchfork and is riling up the other villagers,”
He chuckles, “Of course,” he says, and then he leans in and presses a kiss to my lips. I sink into it and he pulls me on top of him. We spend another hour tangled in the sheets until we both decide we’re hungry.
*
To no-one’s surprise, the food offering at the Ritz is fucking delicious, and Miles and I are eating dessert when Carrie drops into one of the spare seats at the table.
I don’t want to say I am disappointed to see her, but, well, I am. And so is Miles, if his expression is anything to go by. Seeing Carrie has reminded me, momentarily, why I am here. It’s easy to forget that when you’re locked in a suite with the most incredible guy on the planet. Or eating the fanciest quiche you’ve ever had in the most expensive place I have ever been, but go off.
“Good morning,” she says, “Or should I say, afternoon,” she adds with a wink, oblivious to the bubble she has just popped that was keeping Miles and me nice and cosy.
“Where did you go last night?” Miles asks her, putting his fork down, “I saw you disappear into the smoking area and then I never saw you again,”
She snorts, “I don’t know if you guys could see anybody other than each other,” she says, “You were giving the bride and groom a run for their money on that dance floor,” she adds with another wink. She’s just showing off that she can do it twice in a row, I think.
I feel a blush creep up my neck and Miles grins at me. Our eyes meet and the events of last night come rushing back. He must see the heat in my gaze because his eyes flick to my lips and then darken.
“Anyway,” Carrie says, not sensing, or totally ignoring the tension between us, “What time are you guys getting to the rehearsal? Thank God we don’t need to be at the church too,”
Miles breaks our connection and turns to Carrie, “Uh, yeah, it starts at 7 right?” he asks, his eyes glazed.
Carrie nods, “The meal starts at 7.30, Jas said,” she says, leaning over to pick a strawberry off Miles’s plate and popping it into her mouth.
I am a little in awe of her ability to not feel the electricity in the air. Every time I move I can feel Miles beside me, moving with me, adjusting and bending around my energy, fitting snugly. Maybe I am the only one who can feel it.
Miles nods, “I don’t know, probably when food comes out,” he says with a grin.
“Food,” I mumble, still not really engaging because Miles’s thigh just knocked against mine and I feel like someone used a defibrillator on me.
Carrie snorts, “How hungover are you two? You’re barely forming English sentences,”
I want to tell her that the issue is not the hangover but the sexed-out haze I have been in since this morning, but feel that may be a bit much to tell Miles’s cousin, so I just laugh. She doesn’t need to know about the electric currents running down my leg, through my heart, and probably in my brain messing up any semblance of normal thought.
She sits with us for another hour before telling us that she’s been summoned to Jas’s suite and leaves. Miles and I head back up to our room too.
Sitting with Carrie for so long and having to engage with another human being brings me back to planet Earth a little, so by the time we are walking along the corridor to our suite, I am planning on putting the humongous bath to good use, but Miles has other ideas. The minute the door to our suite closes behind us, he pushes me up against it and his lips crash against mine. Suddenly, the bath seems like a terrible idea and I join Miles as he removes the clothes from both our bodies. We’re backing towards the bed as he pulls his jeans down and his cock springs free. I reach down and grip his hard length and he groans into my lips.
“Fuck,” he mutters, running his thumbs over my peaked nipples and pressing kisses along my jaw. He sits down on the edge of the bed and I move between his legs. He takes my nipple into his mouth, tugging on it with his teeth and then soothing the pain with strokes of his tongue .
“Ah, Miles, that’s so good,” I moan.
He grins as he pulls back and rolls my nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
“These are so perfect,” he says to me, his finger tracing the outline of my breasts.
“Yeah, I know,” I groan, head tilted up to the ceiling as his fingers come down my hips, across my waist, and then to my clit.
He chuckles as he draws circles over the little bud, “Even sarcastic during sex, got it,”
I grin and am about to retort with something hilarious when he pushes two fingers inside of me. Instead of the witty quip I had on the tip of my tongue, a groan slips out instead and all thought magically disappears again.
He pulls his fingers in and out slowly, as he runs his thumb in circles over my clit. The moans that come out of my mouth in the next few minutes are laced with curses as he quickens the pace and applies more pressure to that bundle of nerves. I am barrelling towards release and he watches me the whole time.
“Come on my fingers, Del,” he mutters and I oblige, crying out and almost buckling at the knees.
“Fuck, man,” I groan, pressing my forehead to his and planting a kiss on his lips.
“You look so pretty, all flustered like this,” he says, grinning as I shake my head at him .
“Get on the bed,” I reply and he does as he’s told and clambers backwards. I go to his wash bag and grab another condom, throwing it at him, “And put that on,” I add.
He sits back on the bed, grinning, and rolls it down his length. I move across him, straddling his hips and planting my hands on his shoulders.
“I’m in control this time,” I say, lining his head up with my entrance and sinking down onto his cock.
“I like bossy Del,” he whispers, forehead against mine and slightly breathless as I seat myself fully.
I smile, press my lips to his and begin rocking my hips on him. He matches me stroke for stroke, his mouth clamping around my nipple as his hand moves into my hair. He loops my strands around his wrist, pulling my head back slightly and exposing my neck which he proceeds to kiss, nip, lick, and suck as I groan, eyes on the ceiling.
So much for me being in control—not that I’m complaining…
“Fuck,” I breathe, head pulling back, small stabs of pain at my scalp. Normally, I wouldn’t think I liked having my hair pulled during sex, but apparently, I am now into it.
Miles runs his tongue up my exposed neck again, nipping and kissing here and there. We’re moving so hard and fast that I’m breathless and so close to coming apart at the seams I’m going to need Miles to put me back together.
Then he reaches between us and pushes his thumb over my clit again and I cry out, clenching my walls around his cock and screaming his name. He continues to run his thumb in relentless circles across it, my hair still firmly in his grip and my eyes closed as I see stars, angels, and some guy pretending to be a god on the backs of my eyelids.
“Fuck, Del,” he groans as he comes apart too, pounding all the way through it. He drops my hair and grips my hips, holding me to him as he comes inside me.