17. Code Fate #2
I rested my head between Miles’ shoulders, our breaths ragged. My thoughts were blissed the fuck out. I kissed the back of his neck. He gave me another little moan.
“Best massage ever,” he said underneath me.
I laughed at that. “Leave me five stars on Yelp.”
“What should I say in my review? That you left me feeling extra relaxed?”
“And that I gave you the full-body experience.” I wiggled my hips playfully, my swollen dick still inside him.
“Cool. I’ll write that up then.”
I laughed again and slowly pulled out. Immediately, I missed the connection—the instant bond I felt penetrating him for the first time. I didn’t want to think too hard about it.
Miles got off the table and I realized I hadn’t even massaged his front. “I’m a dumbass, I didn’t even flip you over. You can knock a star off for that.”
“You didn’t have to flip me over to get five stars, Dyl.”
He had a loose grin on his face. His hazel-green eyes slightly glazed over, just like mine most likely were. He opened the drawer and pulled out a long towel. “You can clean up and shower if you want.”
I didn’t get much on me. I also started to wonder if maybe this was his way of telling me it was time to go.
Could he have gotten some post-nut clarity and realized he had wanted to go a different direction?
I started to second-guess myself. That was usually when I became my own worst enemy—when anxiety started driving the train instead of logic and optimism.
I toweled myself down as Miles pulled off the sheet around his massage table. “I’m going to throw these in the wash.” He disappeared into the hall. I sighed. How could I be feeling on top of the world one moment and about to be crushed by the weight of it the next?
I quickly put my clothes back on and decided to cut any potential awkwardness at the knees. I walked out of the massage room and down the hall, into the living room. My sneakers were there, along with the keys to my car hanging on the hook next to the door.
The washing machine did a little cheery jingle as Miles turned it on. I looked over my shoulder and saw that he was giving me a confused expression, his head cocked.
“You, uh, you don’t have to leave,” he said.
I turned on my heel, dropping my sneakers with a thump on the hardwood floor. “Say less.” I chuckled at that. “Sorry, was that too enthusiastic?”
He laughed and shook his head. His eyes were as bright as glittering gems. His smile spread wider than I’d ever seen it. He wasn’t one to give those kinds of smiles away for nothing. It made it all the sweeter, his face all the more handsome. “If anything, you weren’t enthusiastic enough.”
I arched a brow. Then I jumped with a fist in the air and tapped the heels of my feet together. “Wahoo!”
“There we go.”
“I figured a Mario-Flintstones hybrid jump would do it.”
“It certainly did.” He licked his lips, put his hands around my waist and pulled me in.
I kissed him, feeling so safe and comfortable in the moment.
This was nothing like the cool and distant act we had to play when we were in the arena or around the team.
It was just Miles and me—him half-naked and me wishing I still was.
I honestly hadn’t been expecting to stay over.
I wasn’t used to being asked. My history with sexual partners was a very empty and vapid one, fed by quick fixes through short and meaningless app conversations and sometimes even quicker encounters.
I never expected to stay and sleep over at a hookup’s house, no matter how late it was.
I’d always grab an Uber or just drive myself home afterward.
It was an expected move for the hollow sex I’d been so tired of having.
I desperately wanted to find someone who would ask me to stay the night, someone who I’d want to ask the same of.
I kissed Miles back, an arm loose around his neck.
“Let’s get to bed then,” Miles said. “It’s been a long day and you just made me feel real loose. I want to lie down with you. Cuddle.”
“I’d do a jump again but I think I hurt my heels with that last one.” I shook out a leg. “Guess you have to be a primitive caveman to pull it off safely.”
“Maybe I can return the favor with a foot massage then,” Miles offered.
“Oh fuck, that actually sounds really good.” My stomach growled just then, reminding me that we hadn’t really eaten much. The adrenaline from earlier and the ecstasy from now had numbed some of that hunger.
“Come on, then,” he said. “We can order food and chill in bed before it gets here.” I smiled as his hand found mine, our fingers locked together. “Pizza okay?” he asked, phone at the ready. I nodded. Honestly I’d be fine with anything so long as it meant spending more time with Miles.
He walked me to his bedroom across from the massage room.
It was equally serene and well-designed as the rest of his space.
There were a couple of potted plants with thick green leaves, one that sat near his bed and the other near a standing antique mirror.
His tall gray headboard trimmed in pale wood pressed up against a calming navy blue accent wall.
It smelled great in here, too, like a field of flowering roses with a hint of crisp, clean linens and sweet honey.
“Get comfortable.” He climbed onto the king-sized bed, leaning over to his nightstand and opening the drawer. He pulled out a small bottle of massage oil. “Never know when you might need this.”
“True, true.”
I did as he asked and stripped off my shirt and my shorts, underwear following.
I typically slept in my underwear, but tonight I decided I’d be staying naked.
I got onto the bed, leaning against the headboard.
Miles lay on his side with massage oil already in the palm of his hand.
He took my left foot in his hand and applied the oil.
I was immediately in heaven even though I was a little ticklish.
I twitched a couple of times but quickly gave in as Miles started to apply pressure against the ball of my foot.
“Holy shit, that feels good.”
“Got to give you something after that mind-blowing massage you gave me. Inside and out.”
That got me laughing even as heat spread through my core. Being inside of Miles had been as close to a religious experience as I could imagine.
“Where’d you learn that?”
“Topping or massaging?” I asked.
He laughed as he pressed my foot back, stretching it. “Massaging. I’ve got a feeling I know about the topping, Mr. Loverboy.” He said that nickname with a little bit of spice added to it.
Huh, I wondered if maybe someone had told him about my promiscuous past. Could that also be affecting this whole fated mate situation? Was he subconsciously fighting the link because he was scared of getting hurt?
“I guess it was just instinct,” I answered him. I didn’t want to go into the loverboy comment in case I said something that had me sticking my currently oiled and relaxed foot in my mouth. Miles rubbed a knuckle down the center of my foot. I closed my eyes and let out an involuntary moan.
“Speaking of instinct… what was that question about fated mates for?”
And that’s the moment the world stopped.
Oh fuck, what am I—oh fuuuck that feels good, but what can I say—wow, that’s a great foot massage.