In Love, A Little
After we reached the house, we headed towards the back entrance, slowly walking through my mother’s fragrant garden.
“Florence?” Miles stopped, gently grasping my wrist. “Can we talk?” His palm, warm against mine, slid down my hand, entwining our fingers together.
He took a step closer. “You said I shouldn’t have said all that?
And I really don’t know what part you were exactly referring to.
Your eyes or,” he tilted his head, looking at me with a slow grin, drawling, “your gorgeous breasts?”
An immediate smile broke on my face. “Miles,” I breathed.
“I’m serious, I honestly have no idea what I have done to make you so upset. Can’t be the sex, right? Because the sex has been absolutely amazing. Or is it because of my Uncle Ben? Dammit,” he muttered, feigning exasperation, “I knew that was probably it.”
“So,” he leaned over me, his gaze holding mine, “are we okay then?”
Well, it was either nothing or that —the next few days with him. “We are,” I nodded, gently brushing my thumb over his. “Yeah.”
Miles smiled, his fingers hooked around the thick denim of my waistband, drawing me closer to him. “In that case,” he cocked his brow, a slight grin grazing his lips as he murmured, “Wanna help me rearrange the bedsheets in my room?”
“Miles,” I let out a soft chuckle. “God, you are,” I sighed, “so you.”
“I am so me?” His forehead creased with confusion.
“Yeah, exactly.”
“Well,” he nodded suspiciously, “okay.”
When we got inside the house, dinner was over.
Dorothy was clearing the dishes off the table, my mother was probably already upstairs, Mark was asleep on the couch, while the rest sat comfortably on the living room floor, surrounded by dozens of pillows, watching ‘The Fifth Element’ movie projected onto the wall in front of them.
“God!” Miles muttered with a groan, “I hate that movie.”
“What? It’s a great movie! One of the nineties’ best.”
“Well, it is a fucking amazing nineties movie! But I still fucking hate it.”
“But why?”
“When your family member, who loves the movie, also has Alzheimer’s and loves it every single time they watch it because they think they’re watching it for the first time, it kind of grates on your nerves. Same jokes. Same plot. Same twist.”
“Oh…” I breathed. “Your gran…”
“Yeah, and so I would come to visit her and put it on, and we’d watch it together all over again, and, well, after the umpteenth time I really couldn’t stomach it anymore.”
“But you did it for her anyway.”
“Well,” he sighed, “yeah.”
“And then you swore to never watch it again?”
Miles took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, absentmindedly playing with it in his hands.
“Unless I miss her. Which is pretty much always, so it’s annoying because I watch it every now and then.
” Clearly struggling with whatever was on his mind, he let out a sudden groan.
“God, that woman was dying. She had fucking Alzheimer’s and…
she still smoked like a goddamned chimney. ”
Only then did it become clear why his own habit was something he couldn’t let go of.
“Oh, Miles.”
“You guys are back?” A throaty voice cut through the air.
“Yeah,” I glanced at Chantelle, walking inside the room.
“Wanna join us?” Blake asked, propping on his elbows and gallantly offering me his pillow to sit beside him.
“Thanks, but I think I’ll head upstairs,” I offered him a smile. “A bit tired, that’s all.”
“How was the office?” My sister glanced at me.
“Busy,” I said, taking a handful of popcorn from her bowl. “Mmm, sweet and salty. I like those.”
“Well, thanks for doing it.”
“Sure,” I smiled. “Dad should be home soon too.”
Miles, who stood quiet, his gaze fixed on the flickering screen, finally spoke up. “I’m off,” he breathed, then, giving me a brief knowing glance, slowly strode away. “I’ll see you all tomorrow,” he added over his shoulder.
As soon as I got upstairs, I knew it wouldn’t be long before Miles would knock on my door. In about two minutes, he did.
“Coming,” I called out eagerly, reaching for my phone in my pocket. Oh, text from Jo. Simultaneously opening both, I playfully muttered, “I was just thinking about…” But a sudden breath caught in my throat as I blurted, “You?!”
“You did?” Blake asked, a smile spreading across his face.
“Um…” My eyes squinted, quickly reading the message my sister sent me: Blake headed upstairs . And… thumbs up? Well, thanks for the warning! “Yeah,” I forced a smile, “I just felt really bad about that night, and, you know…my mother…” I mumbled, trailing off.
“Florence, darling, please don’t be sorry. Besides,” he narrowed his gaze at me, eyes crinkling at the corners. He always had that swag about him. “I still would like to take you out for that drink.”
“Blake…” I let out a quick, hesitant sigh, my fingers frantically twisting a hairband on my wrist, “about that…” I paused, but before I could finish, he continued.
“Look…” Those long eyelashes were staring at me expectantly as he muttered, gently placing a hand on my arm.
“I’m just a simple guy, trying to get a girl I like, and don’t get me wrong, all these people in the house are lovely, but I would really like to spend some time with you. Just the two of us.”
Oh, God! What do I do? What do I say? A million thoughts raced through my mind. Miles, my mother, Jo, and the fact I promised her I’d give Blake a chance…ugh!
“Wow! I’m flattered, Blake,” I finally managed, a nervous smile on my face. “I…it’s just not… Well, I’ve got a lot on my mind right now. I don’t know if it’s the best time.”
“Then it could be the perfect distraction you need. Think about it, Florence. Besides, it’s not like I’m asking you to marry me or something.”
***
For some reason, Miles never knocked on my door that evening. And if it wasn’t for the dim lights coming from his room and me, with that very same sexy, black chemise on, tired of waiting, I wouldn’t have knocked on his either.
“Hey?” I whispered through the sliver. “Are you…?” Asleep.
Miles sat on a green velvet chair, his legs crossed, his arms and shoulders relaxed, resting against the soft fabric, his chest rising with each deep breath, his head slightly aback.
I took a few steps closer, my eyes curiously travelling the contours of his face.
I don’t know how long I stood there, maybe a minute, lost in the sight of him, before I realised, I was…
smiling? Okay, Florence, you need to leave. Now.
Reaching for the lamp switch beside him, I carefully leaned over when suddenly Miles took a deep inhale and I froze, quickly curling my fingers back, afraid to stir him. He let out a short sigh, then murmured a low, husky, “Hi.”
I glanced down at him. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I’m glad you did,” he said, sitting up straighter.
His hands softly slid up my thighs, just beneath the hem of my robe.
“That’s…very…nice.” He gently pulled the waist tie, uncovering my nightgown.
“But you already knew that, didn’t you?” He lifted his chin, finding my gaze.
He smirked, drawing me closer, my legs on both sides of his lap. “All…for me?”
I broke into a smile, biting my lip, my hands lightly squeezing his shoulders.
“Come on, Florence.” He dragged his fingers up my hips, gently digging them into my skin. “Say it. Just say that you are trying to make me weak.”
“God!” I let out a soft chuckle, a sudden blush creeping up my cheeks. “Fine! Yes, I wore this for you. Happy?” I added with a quick eye roll.
“I’m bloody ecstatic,” Miles purred, making me laugh again.
Then he shifted closer, his arms looping around me as he slid his palms up my spine, his face nuzzling against my skin, down my sternum.
“Mmm, you smell…” His mouth caught my nipple through the silk fabric, his teeth nipping at it lightly. “…delicious.”
A shaky breath escaped my parted lips, a slow, welcoming warmth coiling down my stomach, then lower, between my thighs.
God, I wanted him. So desperately…I craved his touch on me, his hands roaming my body, the weight of him crushing me with each thrust. God, I wanted…
all of him. And I…I wanted to be his tonight. “Miles,” I whispered, “take me to bed.”
“Oh, Miss Grant.” Miles pushed my robe, letting it glide down my shoulders, his grip tightening around my hips as he stood up—two steps and then, with a gasp, I was falling back onto his mattress.
“I’m all at your service.” His palms smoothly caressed my thighs, the hem of my dress riding high on my waist, his fingers, one by one, trailed under the edge of my underwear, then impatiently yanked the lace down my legs.
Trying to get rid of every single piece of clothing standing between us, Miles rolled my dress over my shoulders as my hands were frantically undoing his buttons, then— sorry —a little too aggressively, I ripped them all off.
“Jesus, Florence,” he smirked, pressing me flat against the cool sheets of his bed.
“This is really turning me on.” Gripping the back of my neck, he tilted my head up.
As he lowered himself to kiss me, his tongue assertively brushed against mine, pushing into my mouth.
A growl rumbled in his chest as his teeth bit my lower lip—hard enough to hurt.
“Miles,” I moaned, fumbling with his belt until it came undone. A second later, he was naked.
His hand on my throat slid into my hair as he lowered himself to steal another forceful kiss.
His warm breath trailed down my jaw, my neck, sending a shiver through me.
My nails slid across his shoulders, sinking deep and harsh enough to leave marks, an uncontrollable moan escaping my lips.
His palms ran down my body, finding my waist, then lower, making my hips respond with a sensual grind.
“Miles!” My head shot back with a cry, momentarily lost in this intoxicating pleasure. “I want you so badly right now!”
Miles’ eyes darkened, his gaze intensified. With one sharp yank he opened the drawer, grabbing the condom from it, then just as quickly he tore the foil and rolled it on.
I never knew I could crave something—someone—this much. But he too burned with want, just as fiercely as I did.
Miles gripped me closer and pushed my legs apart. Claiming my mouth, our lips crashed urgently against each other, leaving us both breathless. Suddenly he paused, his eyes never leaving mine, then, without warning, he thrusted inside me so hard my eyelids nearly fluttered closed as I gasped.
“You good?” he murmured.
I managed a nod, then a whisper. “Don’t stop.”
Miles started moving his hips, first slow, then faster, his warm lips grazing the side of my neck.
Crushed under his broad chest, I forced myself to spread wider, pushing upwards against his thrusts, trying to take him deeper.
“Florence,” he murmured, then growled, kissing the flushed skin of my throat.
A trace of tobacco, which I used to hate so much, now filled all my senses.
Our bodies moved together, our breaths mingling, hot and fast. My palms roamed his shoulders, his arms, pressing myself closer, craving the feel of his skin against mine, aching for him.
I inhaled the scent of his hair—a familiar tinge of pear and green tea?
My scent? My pulse raced with each heartbeat.
Each powerful pound. Then, at that instant, he caught hold of my hands; entwining our fingers together, his pace quickened, his panting grew ragged.
A whimper escaped my lips before I could think and I arched my back, melting, offering myself up like a welcoming wave—a crest—slowly surging forward.
So please, do enjoy every drop of this moment before I break with a thunderous roar and swirl you into a salty surrender.
“Miles,” I let out a sudden, shaky breath against his mouth, my skin flushed and warm against his. The faint trace of nicotine mixed with aftershave pulled me closer. “Mmm.” A low hum followed.
“Fuck!” he rasped, then buried his face in my hair, murmuring against my skin, “This…you… you’re everything I want.
” Overwhelmed with emotion and every word he just said, I hummed in pleasure again.
“Jesus, that sound…” He pushed harder—a few deep, selfish strokes—before he plunged his hips with a jerk.
“Fuck! My…Florence…” He dropped his head down next to mine, panting, his chest hot and heavy against mine.
And at this moment I didn’t care that he said that, because at this very moment, I was utterly his.