Chapter 26
Penny
There hasn’t been a single moment today when I haven’t felt like the luckiest woman alive. I can’t believe this man planned all this for me. For us.
Yeah, bitch.
And you’re still planning on marrying another man while riding Miles’s dick.
After stopping for bagels and coffee in Midtown, we went to a French pastry class taught by the winner of last season’s Spring Baking Championship.
One time, Miles caught me watching reruns of the show while I did my skincare routine before bed. He never said anything, and neither did I.
And now we’re having a private class with the chef herself.
It feels unreal.
We made champagne and strawberry macarons and eclairs. I wanted to eat them on the spot, but Miles insisted they’d be dessert after dinner tonight.
Then we went shopping on Madison Avenue.
I love that he pays attention to the brands I like, but the moment he announced he was paying for my outfit for tonight’s date, I had to put my foot down.
“Miles, I already feel incredibly special today. I can’t begin to describe the way you make me feel, but there’s no way I’m letting you pay for this insanely extravagant trip and my clothes too.”
I remember the fire in his eyes when I made it clear there was no arguing with me. He likes calling me boss? Fine. I put my boss hat on.
With a cocky grin on his handsome face, he said, “Sugar, I might not have the millions you do, but I have enough to treat you to this trip—all expenses paid. Because when I say today is about indulgence, I mean it. And right now, I’m indulging in you.”
His lips brushed against my neck, a featherlight kiss landing on my pulse point.
My whole body softened at the contact. “Thank you,” I breathed against his neck.
“Let’s go find something fancy to wear tonight before my lower head gets other ideas and I get frisky with you in a changing room.”
I laughed at his crass imagination, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t secretly want him to follow through.
Even though it’s Miles’s first time in the big city, he walks around like he owns it. Dark jeans, soft white tee, and his worn brown Carhartt jacket. He looks exactly like what he is—a hardworking man. Confident. Sexy. Completely unbothered.
Every store we walk into, people stare.
Women practically drool over him while men look at him like they wish they were him.
I can’t blame them. I’d probably feel the same if he weren’t with me.
For a moment, my mind drifts to what it would be like with Easton.
Everything would’ve turned into a business conversation. He’d analyze sales strategies, talk profit margins, and figure out how each store could bring in more revenue.
Business. Money. Status.
Because with Easton, everything is about money and power.
Not wanting to let thoughts of him ruin my perfect day with Miles, I take a deep breath and keep browsing the store with a mimosa in hand.
Eventually, I land on a Dolce & Gabbana red satin midi dress with a built-in bustier and matching stilettos.
It’s stunning.
And somehow, it feels fitting for the last night I allow myself to indulge in the one thing I always swore I never wanted.
Love.
“Ready, m’lady?” Miles says after knocking softly on the bedroom door.
After we arrived at the apartment he booked for the night—where a private chef’s already hard at work cooking a special dinner for two—I got whisked away by a ridiculously stylish glam team to get ready for the evening.
Instead of answering Miles right away, I stop in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror for one final look.
Then I spritz on the new perfume Miles secretly bought me while I wasn’t paying attention, and finally open the door.
The air leaves my lungs.
Miles looks so irresistibly handsome in black suit pants and a white button-up with a very delicate blue pattern, which makes his eyes look even brighter. His hair is styled back nearly with gel—something he should definitely do more often—and his beard is trimmed to perfection.
“Wow, sugar.” His eyes slowly drag over me, drinking me in. “You’re already a beautiful woman, Penélope, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look this gorgeous.”
He lifts my hand and presses a kiss against my knuckle before tucking it through his arm and leading me toward the living area.
The way he says my name with that soft Spanish accent lowkey makes something melt in me every time.
“You look very dapper tonight, Miles.”
His face pinches with confusion.
My brows pull together. “Did I say something wrong?”
“I thought you were gonna call me hotstuff,” he says with a sheepish grin.
A laugh bubbles out of me as I stop walking and turn to face him fully.
“You,” I say slowly, smoothing my hand over his chest, “are the walking definition of hotstuff.”
His entire face lights up. “Thank you, sugar.”
He winks at me before guiding me toward the dining room.
“So how did it go with the style team?” he asks.
I love that he doesn’t actually know what their job titles are but still cares enough to hire people to make me look pretty.
“They were fantastic, but I think you’d be a better judge than me. No?”
Miles proceeds to eye-fuck me so thoroughly, my core pools with heat.
“Yes,” he says after releasing a slow breath. “They did an incredible fucking job. You look stunning.” His gaze drags over me again before settling on my face. “Then again, they had an easy job.”
I frown.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
I roll my eyes at the compliment, but feel warmth spreading through my chest.
“You can cut them eyes all you want, boss. But you know it’s true.”
“So what did you do while I was getting ready?” I ask as he helps me to my chair at the dining table.
A huge floral arrangement sits in the center of it.
My breath catches.
“Are these Penelope roses?” I ask, already knowing the answer before I lean closer to smell them.
Miles smiles, and I swear there’s the faintest hint of pink on his cheeks.
“How?” I ask, mesmerized by the attention he pays to every single detail.
“I can’t reveal my secrets,” he says as he takes his seat. “But I can tell you that I was practicing my Spanish while you were getting beautified.”
“Practicing Spanish?” I ask, confused.
“Oh yeah. I started last year when Gio started speaking Spanish to the twins,” he shares as he pours two glasses of wine. “Since I’m the cool uncle, I want to make sure I can speak to them in Spanish too.”
My heart swells at his words. The fact that he wants to embrace his niece and nephew’s multicultural heritage makes me want to climb him right here in the middle of the store.
“But since you moved in, I decided to add some useful phrases to my vocabulary.” His wolfish grin tells me what kind of phrases he’s learned, but I still ask anyway.
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
He clears his throat before leaning closer.
“No veo la hora de poder chuparte toda y hacerte gemir de placer.”
Whatever I expected Miles to say, it wasn’t that.
Goose bumps erupt across my skin at the thought of Miles sucking me until I moan.
“?Te gusta que te hable así?” he murmurs gently before sucking gently at my neck.
“Si.” It’s the only thing I can manage as my brain completely short-circuits.
Never in my thirty-five years of existence has a man whose first language wasn’t Spanish taken the time to learn how to say sexy things to me.
“Good.” He grins against my skin. “I’ll show you what else I learned later.”
I’m about to suggest we skip dinner altogether when the chef walks into the dining room carrying a tray.
“Good evening, Mr. MacAllister, Ms. Levine,” he greets as the smell of food makes my stomach growl. “Tonight I prepared coffee-and-bourbon braised short ribs served over mashed potatoes with a green salad featuring walnuts and pomegranate.”
He plates our food, leaves the serving dishes on the table, then quietly excuses himself.
“Happy Indulgence Day, sugar,” Miles says as he waits for me to take the first bite.
I cut into the short rib, and the meat practically melts in my mouth. The rich tanginess pairs perfectly with the sweetness from the pomegranate.
“This is superb,” I say, going in for a second bite.
“True.” Miles practically inhales half his plate. “I’m going to have to learn how to make these at home.” He dabs his mouth with a napkin, a sheepish smile appearing on his face. “I apologize for my bad manners, but I was hungry.”
I laugh softly. “Do you want more? I think the chef left plenty.” I gesture toward the extra food.
“Nope. I don’t want to eat so much that I end up in a food coma.” His gaze slowly drags down my body. “There’s something else I want to devour after this.”
I close my eyes, feeling the full force of his stare.
He tops off our glasses of wine, and by the time I’m almost done eating, this giant man suddenly folds himself under the table.
“Miles?” I ask, a nervous little laugh slipping out.
“Yes, sugar?”
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for my dessert.”
The second his strong hands caress my ankles, I already know I’m in for one of the best orgasms of my life.
“Is this okay?” he asks softly against my calf.
I try to answer, but my fork and knife slip from my fingers and clatter loudly onto the table instead.
Miles chuckles low in his throat.
As his hands slowly glide higher up my legs, my chair gets pushed back slightly. Then his head emerges from under the table, his eyes wild with restrained lust.
“The moment I saw the slit on this dress,” he murmurs against my inner thigh, “I knew I’d find a way to use it to my advantage.”
Then he presses his nose against my core and inhales deeply.
“Puedo apostar todo lo que tengo a que estás completamente mojada,” he says as he gently spreads my thighs apart. His thumbs press against my core, pulling a helpless moan from me.
At this point, I’m not even sure whether I’m reacting more to what he’s doing or to the fact that he’s speaking to me like this.
I’ve heard him use a few words here and there with the twins, but nothing like this.