Chapter 13
CAROLINE
Miles and I exchange a few flirty texts over the next week, mostly consisting of him begging for details about my sex list—and, nearly just as often, making ridiculous, unhinged guesses about what’s on it.
Miles
Threesome?
Me
No.
Miles
Intruder role-play?
Me
No!
Miles
Me in a gorilla suit?
Me
No!!
Miles
It’s butt stuff. I knew it.
Me
Miles!!
With each message, I shrivel into an increasingly tight, awkward ball of nerves, unable to bring myself to share much of anything.
And now I’m hovering inside his apartment door, list complete, thumbing the edge of the folded paper in my pocket. For a second, I think I might flee, burn the evidence, and enter the witness protection program.
I shouldn’t be embarrassed. My brain knows sex is perfectly natural, but tell that to my body. Nothing screams vanilla bore quite like staring down an itemized list of all the sex acts you’ve been curious about but never tried.
With shaking hands, I slip off my heels.
We’d agreed I’d come over tonight, and we both know exactly what I’m here for, but showing up at his apartment for the sole purpose of having sex fills me with a strange, simmering thrill.
I’m nervous about actually going through with this, but under the nerves is excitement.
Writing out that list was like drafting a blueprint for my own little sexual revolution.
Miles looks effortlessly delicious as usual, the jeans slung low on his hips and his worn T-shirt only fueling my thoughts of exploring what’s underneath. But knowing I’m here to do exactly that is already giving me heart palpitations.
“You wanna take off your coat?” He gestures to the hooks near the front door.
“Um, not yet.” Avoiding his gaze, I drop my small bag on the floor and snug the belt of my thigh-length trench coat. “I’m cold.”
“Okay.” Miles watches me for a moment. “Well? You finally finish it?”
My cheeks heat. “Uh, yes?”
“Cough it up, then.” He holds out his palm with a smirk. “You’ve got me so fucking curious about this damn list.”
With a grimace, I thrust the paper toward his handsome face and squeeze my eyes shut. “Just take it. Take it before I change my mind!”
Feeling him swipe it from my grasp, I crack an eyelid and watch as he slowly unfolds it and settles on the couch.
“Alright, let’s see…”
He roughs his knuckles over his clean-shaven jaw.
Did he shave just for tonight? For me?
I shift on my feet, practically wringing my hands.
Studying the paper carefully, Miles flicks a few glances my way, a slow smile spreading over his lips. At one point, he raises his brows—but still doesn’t speak.
When his silence becomes intolerable, I break. “Oh my God, say something!”
He looks up and does the faintest double-take, realization touching his expression as he pushes up from the couch.
Letting my list drop to the coffee table, he strides toward me and, without breaking eye contact, starts to loosen the belt of my coat.
His voice is rough when he speaks. “That last one…”
An involuntary sound leaves my throat. “Yeah?”
“Any chance you planned for that one tonight?”
As he undoes the buttons, he dips down to kiss me slowly, the clean, woodsy scent of him drawing me even closer. His lips are so warm, his tongue so deliciously distracting.
My heart jackhammers against my rib cage.
When my coat falls open, he hisses out the word fuck. Pressing his hands together over his mouth, he paces a few steps away from me—and my stomach sinks.
Does he hate it? Did I go way overboard?
I glance down. Intricate panels of red lace and satin crisscross over my breasts and delicate ribbing slopes down my waist, attaching to a high-cut, lacy thong.
Crimson garter straps stretch from the lower edge of the bodice over my hips and bottom, clipped to the bands of lace at the top of thigh-high red stockings.
Self-consciousness flares hot in my chest as I smooth one garter strap over my hip. This getup suddenly seems ridiculous. Impractical and over-the-top, like a silly costume.
Who do I think I’m pretending to be?
“Do you like it?” I ask, my voice pathetically hopeful. “I wasn’t sure if—”
He stops in his tracks, eyes snapping to mine. “Do I like it?” Brow furrowed as if he’s in pain, his gaze slips down my body.
“Yeah, it’s just—”
And then he rushes for me, cutting me off with a breath-stealing kiss. He wrestles the coat from my shoulders, letting it drop to the floor before pulling back enough to press his forehead to mine.
“Do I fucking like it?” He slides his palms up my arms, then cups my face in his hands and kisses me again. When he breaks away, his voice is a bit ragged. “Yeah, fancy girl. I like it.”
“I didn’t know if…” I trail off as his fingers find my hair and he grabs a fistful of curls, tugging my face up so I meet his molten eyes. He lets out a low growl, and delicious heat fans up from my core, engulfing my exposed throat. I might make a tiny whimpering sound in response.
He presses his lips to mine once more, and his grip on my hair has me arching into him.
I open my mouth so he can deepen the kiss, then gasp when he tears away and jerks my head back. A dark, almost thrilling tendril of pleasure slips from my scalp, spreading down from my nape to my shoulder blades as he kisses my neck. “I guess that answers whether I like having my hair pulled.”
He lets go suddenly. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t even— Was that okay?”
“Yes, I liked it.”
“Oh, thank fuck.” His cobalt eyes are nearly black in the dim light. “I uh… I think you melted my brain.” He shakes his head like he can’t quite believe what I’m wearing. “God, look at you.”
“What?”
“Uh, I figured we were just gonna start by making out on the couch or something. But you’ve, um…”—he swallows—“really upped the ante, here.” He explores my rib cage and waist with his fingers, his thumbs brushing reverent strokes over the lace covering my skin. “I mean, it’s a helluva first move.”
“Be honest. Is it too much?” I wish I still had my coat on so I could hug it around me. “Because I can change.”
“Fuck no!” He peels off his shirt, flinging it across the room with a grin.
“I just need to catch up.” Taking my face in his hands, he kisses me again—intense, insistent, and hungry.
“The only place this lacy little number is going”—he reaches down, tracing the satiny edge over my hip—“is on my bedroom floor.”
I let out a small yelp when he scoops me over his shoulder, one palm squeezing and kneading at my thigh as he carries me into his room. The deep press of his fingers into my flesh is strangely intoxicating, and I want him to keep touching me like that—hard, like he can’t help himself.
When Miles lays me out on his bed and climbs over me, all I can think is how badly I want to lick the cleft in the center of his chin. Or sink my teeth into his muscular, tattooed shoulder.
“You’re so pretty in this.” He dips down to nuzzle my breasts, inhaling like he’s taking a long drag of a much-needed cigarette.
“I bought it for tonight.” I thread my fingers through his hair, hoping he can read between the lines: no one but him has seen me wear this.
A rumbling sound escapes his throat, and my body hums in response.
Message received.
“Oh, God,” I almost whine when he draws one of my nipples between his lips. Even through the fabric, the warmth of his tongue and the gentle scrape of his teeth send a pulse of longing through my entire body.
Apparently, I’m not the only one thinking about biting.
“Fuck, I love your tits,” he mumbles around the peaked flesh and lace, palming and gently squeezing my other breast. When he switches sides, I whimper, but he just nips harder.
Urgency floods me; I need his mouth on my skin. Now.
Tugging down the straps of my lingerie, I free one arm, then the other, baring my chest and arching up. “More. Please.”
Tendrils of pleasure spread through me when he groans, then licks and sucks my pebbled flesh, sending my heartbeat skittering.
He hums against my skin, tugging gently before letting go with a soft pop before moving to my other side.
“Mmm, fucking perfect.” Slowly, reverently, he slides my lingerie down, kissing every inch he uncovers.
His tongue and lips light fireworks under my skin as they sweep over my breasts, my ribs, then my stomach.
Settling between my legs, Miles tugs on the small bow at the top of one garter strap, frowning when it doesn’t give. He tries again, running a finger under the elastic. “Fuck, Caroline,” he almost chuckles, flicking his gaze up to mine. “How the hell do you get these things off?”
Skimming my lip with my teeth, I reach down to release the garter straps, then gasp when he shoves my knees apart.
“Y’know…” He feathers his fingers along my inner thighs and warmth blooms at my center when he nips me through my panties. “There’s something else on your list that needs immediate attention.”
“Which one?” I shiver when he repeats the movement, lifting the edge of the fabric ever so slightly. My skin hums in the wake of his touch.
“Coming your brains out.” He pinches the thin lace between my legs, pulling it away before letting it go with a snap.
I flinch, letting out an involuntary whimper.
“Over and over again,” he adds. He smooths his fingers over my center, soothing the sting and drinking in my reaction.
“Um, not sure those were my exact words.” I try to tamp down on the grin he draws out of me.
“Fine. Multiple orgasms. Potato, potahto.”
He increases the pressure, quickly turning me into a puddle. The mewling noises that slip out of me are so foreign; I don’t think I’ve ever made sounds like this before.
I lift my hips as he frees me from the lingerie, sliding my stockings down with it.
He practically sighs the word fuck when he takes in the sight of me completely naked, dropping the red lace off the side of the bed before he crawls back over me.