Chapter 14
Emma
I ’m ready to tell Miles to go to hell, but his lips smother the words. His kiss starts slow and builds into an angry exploration of the recesses of my mouth. There was no warning, only action, sending the pit of my stomach spiraling through an unknown abyss. Here we are, arguing seconds before tonguing each other down in front of my family. Each kiss wraps itself in years of denial and yearning. We broke a seal we can’t replace, and it’s taking me further outside of myself.
Miles caught me off guard, and now I’m standing on my tiptoes to fuse myself with a man I’ve tried to hate for reasons now lost on me.
Hate isn’t right. Dislike.
I dislike how obnoxious Miles is. How he seeps underneath my skin and settles like he has a right to exist there. Right now, I dislike his gentleness—the way he reads my thoughts and understands that my pushing him away is what I always do: handle shit on my own.
I break us apart, surrounded by the scent of his musk, and touch my swollen lips. I hazard a glance and find Miles searching my face with a determined expression. “Excuse me.” I grab my black clutch off the table and head toward the entrance.
I need to leave. Leave this fundraiser. Leave Colorado.
I’ve loathed these events since my parents started collecting frequent flier miles to chase after flashing lights and people ready to kiss their ass because of their proximity to DC power. The private planes came once they amassed a certain status and realized they’d earn more political points standing next to a daughter they ignored most of her life. Not because they didn’t love me; I just wasn’t a top priority. I stopped caring a long time ago, which doesn’t explain why I still showed up tonight. Or why he did.
Tonight, Miles made me his priority. He grounded me, supported me. Made me laugh. I haven’t smiled at one of my father’s fundraisers since I was too little to realize my own autonomy. Miles is pulling emotions out of me like he was meant to be part of my life.
Coat check comes into view at the other end of a marble hallway framed in crown molding and stuffy paintings of flowers. I’ll go back to California, to the curated life waiting for me I formed without instructions on how to live it.
A hand circles around my waist and spins me. Miles’s eyes narrow. “Dinner was shit, but why are you running out on dessert?”
My laugh catches us off guard. Only he can make the air lighter after my knees shook from that kiss in front of my family. Here I am freaking out, and he’s asking about a piece of cake.
“I’m good.”
“You sure about that?” The question rests in the space between us encased in silence.
Confused. It’s the only word to describe my reaction to this back-and-forth we turned into a traveling act. Casual flirting. Sex without strings. That was our trajectory, and I royally fucked up by claiming him in a role no one will ever play.
“I’m fine, really. Thank you for checking on me, but you can stop now. Come to California if you want, but tonight is as far as this”—I motion between us—“goes.”
“You done yet?”
“Excuse me?”
He leans his forearm on the counter while I hand my ticket stub to the attendant. “Being so damn difficult. Your family is on one, but I ain’t about to pay for their mistakes.” He passes his ticket but keeps his gaze on me. “Apologize.”
“Are you serious?”
“Do you see a smile? I didn’t have to come—and don’t front like you weren’t losing your shit when you thought I stood you up. You can go back to your mama with that lie.”
Miles waits, and I roll my lips. No man talks to me this way. He’s not trying to be rude; he wants respect.
“You’re right,” I admit to his smirk. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you or got you into this mess.”
“Stop saying that. We’re…” He scratches the back of his perfect fade. “Shit, we’re not friends like that, but we are friends adjacent. I show up for mine, and your affiliation with T and Jay covers you.”
I snort. “Geez, thanks.”
His shoulder lifts. “It’s nothing.”
“Do you kiss all your non-friends like that?” The memory of his lips on mine threatens to hold my breath ransom, but I keep it together.
Miles peers down at me with heavy eyelids. “Not all of them.” A silken thread laces his voice.
“Good. For us.” I brush a hair out of place and look away. “We’ll see more of each other soon, and we shouldn’t blur any lines.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Yes,” I lie.
We stumble through the coat check door, lips locked and deep in moans. How we maneuvered back here after getting our coats remains a mystery.
“Hey, you can’t be back here!”
Miles peels his mouth from mine and presses me into his side. He digs in his pocket and tosses two bills at the wide-eyed redhead. “Beat it, Archie. Go ride the elevators, and don’t come back for thirty minutes.”
The guy takes one look at the money in his hand, shuts the partition, and runs out the door he closes behind him. He can’t be more than twenty and is clearly on a track team the way he sprints out.
“Thirty minutes?” I chuckle. “Think you’ll last that long?”
“Shut up.” Miles kisses up a hidden trail from my neck to my ear and licks my lobe to activate a shiver. “I told you that you haven’t earned this dick. They probably cleared the tables by now, and I want my dessert.”
I’m airborne before my gasp has a chance to escape. Miles moves us through racks of coats to the back of the room with my legs wrapped around him. Unlike the kiss earlier, this one is punishing, a demand for my tongue, which he sucks. The coat check room is small, like an oversized closet with a wooden side table and barstools next to the pass-through. At least these Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe coats give us some privacy.
Miles rips a fur coat from a hanger and tosses it to the floor. “I—” I squeal on the way to the ground. I’m now straddling him with my dress above my ass and my cleavage dangling in front of him. He buries his face in it with a satisfied groan.
“Miles!” I hiss. “This is somebody’s coat.”
He motorboats my titties and bites a nipple through the fabric. “They shouldn’t be wearing that shit anyway. It’s unethical. I’ll leave money for dry cleaning. Now come ride my face.”
My hands fly to the sides of his head when he pulls me to hover over lips he’s licking in anticipation. The swell of his biceps locks me in place as he feasts with abandon.
I’ve had men eat my pussy, but not like this. Miles’s mouth has the perfect suction, spearing me with his tongue and flicking my clit. His touch is ruthless, lashing me in circular motions up and down before changing speed.
My center pulsates as the first orgasm bursts through and careens into the room on its axis.
Holy shit.
I jump at the slap to my ass. “Did I not say ride my face?” Miles asks from between my thighs. “You better earn this one, passenger princess.”
“I got your princess right here.” A brow furrows before I slide my feet from behind me, grip the back of Miles’s neck, and proceed to fuck his face. His hands move to my ass to deepen each thrust of his tongue.
He better ask for air in the afterlife.
Years of yoga and these platform shoes make holding up my body weight effortless. I could be here all night. The question is, can he?
The duet of our moans fills the room as I widen my thighs and drive as deep as Miles allows. My body curls at the rise of another orgasm, this one stronger than the first and taking its time to ease out. Miles sits up to catch me to his chest, his hardened length all but bursting at the seams for some attention.
Our stares thread through our labored breaths. I caress the side of Miles’s face and grab his goatee. “Open.” At my command, his mouth opens, and my tongue grazes his as I taste myself.
He holds me to his body for a kiss that lasts longer than it should. Eventually the sheen of our exertion cools, but not the desire we set ablaze.
There are lines I shouldn’t cross with Miles, and I fear we passed the point of no return.