6. The Next Best Thing
THE NEXT BEST THING
Miles
I run a hand down her arm, letting my fingers glide across her skin before setting my palm on top of hers—the hand not holding the remote. Her breath hitches—it’s the most gorgeous sound I’ve ever heard.
I slow my movements, running my left hand over hers, curling our fingers together, drawing out the moment.
As she clasps my hand in return, she sighs softly, leaning her head back.
Her thick, silky hair brushes against my nose.
I don’t even bother pretending not to inhale it.
I make a show of it, running my nose along the soft, chestnut waves.
“You smell like vanilla and brown sugar,” I murmur as I drift closer to her earlobe so I can kiss her there.
She tenses though, and I’m not sure what to make of that reaction.
Maybe I’ve gone too far. Too fast. But then she turns her head back to glance at me, pulling her body away slightly.
Like there’s a play I didn’t expect on the ice, I try to read her body language.
But it’s hard because there’s a quirk in her lips now, like she’s amused.
“And I bet you like that—vanilla and brown sugar.”
Ah, that’s better. Her sass. I fucking love her confidence. I tighten my fingers around hers. “What gave it away?”
“I don’t know. It’s hard to say,” she teases, still twisting to look at me, even as she wriggles her ass against my hard-on. And I do know how to read that.
“Some things are more obvious than others.”
“This one seems fairly obvious,” she replies, her voice a little dreamy, a little lost in the moment. But then she takes a deep breath, like she’s snapping herself out of it.
Hmm.
Maybe I’ve been missing her cues all along? “Do you want me to stop?”
She’s quiet for a beat before she says, “No.”
I pause in case she says more, but she doesn’t.
I take her word at face value as I let go of her hands and slide mine up her arms, tracing the flowers inked into her skin.
I watch the fine hairs rise under my touch while listening to her quiet gasps and the soft murmur of her breath.
She melts into me, and I feel her relax, little by little.
I want to kiss her right now. But I hold myself back, resisting the urge.
I want to make her wait for it, but I also want to be dead sure she wants this.
I lift a hand to sweep her hair to the side so I can kiss the back of her neck, but the second my fingers make contact, she jerks away. “I need to…check the settings,” she says.
Oh. Okay. I’m a little lost. “Sure. Go ahead,” I say since I’m not really sure what she wants anymore.
She nibbles on the corner of her lips, then, like it costs her something, she asks, “Can I take more pictures? I have a pose in mind.”
Best to go with the flow. I’ll chalk the earlier awkwardness up to, well, the fact that we’re half-dressed in a photo studio and we hardly know each other.
Intimacy is going to be awkward sometimes.
It’s best to talk it out though, and at least she’s trying.
“Take as many as you want. You’re the star of the show. ”
She pops up to adjust the camera. Her fingers move quickly over the settings, and after a few seconds, she comes back to me. This time though, she doesn’t sink onto my lap, with her back to my chest again. Instead, she straddles my thighs, so she’s facing me.
Well, then. That’s clear.
“This is a better pose,” she says, like she needs to explain herself, when I’m so good with it.
“Whatever you want,” I reply.
One hand is still curled around the remote trigger. With the other, she drags her shiny black nail down her chest, toward the swell of her breasts. “Kiss me here. For the camera.”
That’s all the invitation I need. I dip my head, pressing a soft kiss to her skin, instantly lost in the taste of her. Her warmth. The beat of her pulse beneath my lips. The scent of brown sugar and vanilla lingering in her hair while the camera captures the way I touch her.
I kiss my way up her chest, to her throat, flicking my tongue lightly against the hollow there.
My brain short-circuits. Everything I’ve been holding back starts to crumble.
I want to grab her face and kiss her deeply, but when I reach up to cup her cheeks and haul her close, her eyes widen—just for a second.
Fear flickers across them.
Something’s wrong. “You okay?” I ask, pulling away.
“Yes, I’m great. It’s fine. It’s just—” She cuts herself off, not finishing her sentence.
“Do I make you uncomfortable?” I ask again, my brow furrowing.
She shakes her head adamantly. “No. I swear. I just…” She shifts a few inches back, wincing. “I don’t usually kiss this fast.”
Oh, fuck. I don’t want her to think I’m only trying to get her naked, even though I’d very much like that. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed.”
“You didn’t,” she whispers. Then she sighs heavily, closing her eyes, like something pains her. She lets go of the grip on the remote.
I feel like a total piece of shit. Except, she’s not moving off me.
She’s still straddling me. So I wait for her to go next.
When she opens her eyes a few seconds later, she sets a hand on my chest, grabbing the fabric of my shirt, twisting it in her fingers.
She parts her lips, breathes out heavily again, clearly at war with herself.
I have no clue what’s going on, but I do not want to make her feel uncomfortable.
“Should I leave?” I ask, trying to fix the mess I’ve made. “I should leave.”
“Don’t.”
So I don’t.
Another big breath, then she straightens her shoulders, gripping my shirt tighter. “I don’t like to talk about this so soon,” she says with a frustrated groan I didn’t expect, then she finishes in a strong voice with, “I wear hearing aids. And I don’t want you to touch my ears when you kiss me.”
I blink. I didn’t see that coming. Only because…I had no idea. Her hair is so long, and it covers her ears, and I haven’t gotten any sense that she hasn’t heard me when I’ve spoken.
But as I roll the tape on the last few minutes, all her reactions make perfect sense—the way she tensed when I got too close to her hair, the way she moved away when I ventured near her earlobe.
So many questions ping through my mind, but when I look at her eyes again, there’s a barrier in those blues.
Her guard is all the way up.
Like she thinks…
Ah fuck.
She thinks I’m going to leave.
She thinks this turns me off.
She thinks I’m like some asshole who must have done that to her—left when he learned. And I immediately want to find him and kill him.
I do the next best thing. I lift my hand to run my knuckles down her cheek. “Thank you for telling me. And I have one opinion on that right now and it’s this—I’d really like to take you on a date.”
She relaxes, slowly but surely, her lips curving into a soft smile, like that’s what she needed more than a kiss. “You do?” She sounds enchanted. Maybe amazed.
I don’t waste a single second. “I really do.” I glance at the clock on the wall. “What are you doing right now?”
Her smile deepens. My chest tightens with excitement as she says, “Going on a date with you.”
I slide my hand down her chest once more, my fingers tracing her soft skin, sensing her comfort with each touch returning. “That’s right, you are.”
We untangle from each other, moving off the chair. “I just have one question,” I say since her honesty was seriously brave. I’m not about to tell her this out loud—it would sound patronizing—but I’m even more drawn to her for it.
“Sure, what is it?” she asks, sounding hesitant as she pulls her top back on.
“Is there anything you need from me? So you can hear me better?” I ask, buttoning up my shirt.
Her smile is warm, maybe even a little grateful, and it does something funny to my chest. “With them in, I can hear you about eighty-one percent of the time,” she says with a smirk.
I tilt my head, curious. “That’s specific.”
“So are the hearing tests these days.” Her tone turns more serious as she adds, “It’s like I tell my friends: I just prefer to see your face when we talk—it helps a lot to fill in any gaps. So maybe don’t wear a mask?” Her delivery is deadpan.
“And to think I was going to grab my zombie mask.”
She raises her hand like a stop sign. “Wait, are you into zombies?” Her look tells me she’d show me the door if I said yes.
“No. Are you?”
“The guy who was supposed to do the shoot today canceled because of a zombie video game launch he just had to be at. Apparently, it’s a thing.”
“Well, then I’ll change my answer. I love zombie games because they gave me this chance for our first date.
” Emphasis on first. I want Leighton to know I’d like to see her again.
I need this to be a great date for her. Something fun, since she could probably use that after her shoot fell through twice, and after opening up the way she did. “How do you feel about geocaching?”
She tilts her head, her brow furrowed. “Never been. Is it fun?”
“Would I take you on a bad date?”
“I don’t know. Would you?” she teases.
“Try me.”
“We’ve already established I’m saying yes. Now, you’ll really have to impress me with this treasure hunt.”
“Challenge accepted.” I grab my socks and boots, tug them on, and we head out of the studio onto the streets of Hayes Valley.
I open my geocache app, scrolling through nearby options.
“There are some cool ones around here, but some of the best are in the Presidio. How do you feel about heading there?”
“I feel pretty good about it, Miles,” she says, and I notice her mood seems lighter now, more upbeat. That’s everything I could want. This date has barely started, and already, I don’t want it to end.
* * *
The Presidio is a national park with great views of the Pacific Ocean and the Golden Gate Bridge. It boasts some terrific nature trails, towering trees and a handful of redwood groves. But it’s also home to some seriously fun caches.