Chapter 21 Mile Twenty-One #3
“Shh.” He nuzzles into my hair. “Eyes forward. You don’t want to get us in trouble, do you?”
With a stuttered breath, I comply. My gaze fixes on the fuzzy outlines of the four musicians on stage.
The stage lighting assures I see only them, and not the seats full of fellow concert-goers made up of students, faculty, and other staff.
Even if I could see them, I don’t think I’d care.
Something about being with Garrett makes me brave, or maybe my bravery lets me lose myself in the desires and emotions bubbling over inside me about this man.
Whatever it is, all I know is that the only thing I’m thinking about is this man’s finger tracing patterns up my leg.
From my knee to my dress’s hem, he dances his fingertips against my skin.
I bite back the little moan that threatens to escape.
Each slow stroke fans the flames—its heat crisscrossing within me.
“For years, you’d show up to happy hour in these tight little pencil skirts,” he whispers, his hot breath kissing against the shell of my ear.
“I’d sit across from you pretending I didn’t want to slip my hands below those skirts.
” He slides his finger beneath my hem, skating the digit up my inner thigh.
“Pretend I didn’t want to yank it up, and pull these aside—” he traces the lacy barrier between panties and bare skin, causing my breath to shallow“—and bury myself in this tight, little pussy.”
“Oh…” I try to stifle my little whine.
“Just as I thought.” He traces a slow circle over the front of my underwear, already damp with need. “You’re so fucking ready for me, aren’t you, pretty girl?”
“My office…isn’t that far,” I breathe.
It might not be the “special” experience he said he wanted for our first time, but the need inside me is boiling over. All I want is to feel him driving into me, sending both of us into oblivion.
“Patience,” he says, slipping his hand from beneath the jacket and resting it on top of my knee, making the fabric less blanket-like and more unwanted barrier.
“What?” I huff a breathy squeak. “Is this reciprocal torture for those pencil skirts?”
A smirk is evident in his silence. He’s toying with me. Whether it’s a playful payback for the five long years he’d wanted me, or to edge me in preparation for later, it doesn’t matter. Tension spools in my muscles from unresolved need, making it hard to remember what relief feels like.
Asshole, I mouth, shooting him a frustrated but playful expression. Thighs pressed tight, I sit up straight and keep my eyes locked on the stage.
“Don’t worry, pretty girl, I’m going to fuck that pout off of you later.” He leans in, his low murmur rumbles through me.
I press my thighs even tighter, praying I’ll make it that long. At this point, one more low murmur in his deep bass and I’ll come.
Two can play this game. Wickedness licks through me. I lean close and purr, “As long as you don’t mind my red lipstick on your cock.”
“Fuck,” he breathes, his fingers curl tight around the armrest.
“That’s the plan—” I brush my lips below his earlobe. “First you get to fuck my mouth, then my tight, little pussy.” I pat his cheek before settling back into my seat. “Now, be a good boy and watch the concert. We don’t want to get in trouble.”
The shift of his large body in the seat beside me is my victory lap. He’s as wound up as I am. Despite the ache between my legs, teasing him is delicious. It’s always been my favorite drug, and—let’s face it—I’m addicted.
“Ready?” he says, shooting up in his chair, the moment the performance ends.
“Is someone in a hurry to get home?” I coo, taking his arm as we move along the row.
He guides us down the stairs. “Just thought we could take a nice long stroll through campus before we head out.”
“We certainly are not.” I poke at his back as we descend the stairs.
“Oh, did you have something else in mind?” he muses ruefully, spinning to face me as we reach the bottom. “Perhaps, we can go for dessert?”
Head tipped up, I flash a sultry smile. “The only dessert I’m interested in is at my apartment, and I would like multiple helpings.”
“Multiple?” He folds his arms around me. “Someone is starving.”
“Famished.”
“I wouldn’t want you to waste away. Perhaps, something to tide you over until I can properly serve you dessert?” He bends, taking my mouth in a deep kiss.
My entire body jellies with each slow press. This taste only taunts of the promise of what’s coming.
“Again, my office is just down the way.”
He laughs. “Our first time will not be on a desk.”
“There’s always up against the file cabinet.” I wiggle against him, making him rumble with laughter.
“Guess the romantic sabbatical is truly over,” Miles drawls from behind us.
Mouth drawn into a firm line, I pivot towards his venom-laced voice. In the midst of the emptying theater, I easily spot Miles at the edge of the stage, the house lights shining down on him. Arms crossed, he stands there. The intensity of his glare carves at me like a knife’s point.
“Miles. What are you doing here?” A furrow dips my brow.
“Here for the performance, though I didn’t expect this one.” He motions at us. “I thought the scene at the race was obnoxious, but your antics here…” he makes a tutting noise. “Quite the show you put on for a woman who is not dating.”
I don’t know how to respond. We weren’t together. I made no promises. That doesn’t quell the swirl of guilt in my gut. I rebuffed his advances because I said I wasn’t dating anyone, and that was true…then. But this is now. Even if Garrett wasn’t in the picture, Miles isn’t who I want.
“I’d like to say, I’m surprised, but it explains why that one never liked me.” He sneers as he points at Garrett.
“His name is Garrett, not that one.” I glare.
“For the record, even if I didn’t have feelings for Jensen, I was never going to like you,” Garrett says, looping his arm around my middle and pressing me against his firm chest.
“You may not have, but she did.” He saunters closer, his energy reading predatory, as if we’re field mice for him to scoop up in his clutches.
I’ve never seen this side of Miles. He’s charming and flirty, but never aggressive. There’s an undercurrent of menace wafting off him.
“How does that feel? Knowing that she liked me. That while you pined for her like a lovesick hero from a clichéd Victorian romance, she daydreamed about me.” He stops in front of us, a serpentine grin playing in his stance.
“She probably went to bed at night wishing I was tangled in the sheets with her.”
“You’re her past, I’m her now.” Garrett places a kiss on my neck. It both claims and reassures.
Miles huffs an incredulous laugh. “We’ll see how long it lasts.”
Fuck him! Anger roars through me. I want to slap him. But I don’t know what the future holds for us. This may not last, but it may become the love I’ve always wanted.
I narrow my eyes. “We’ll find out.”
“You’ll have to excuse me if I’m skeptical of your fickle heart,” he scoffs. “One minute you’re chasing me, then you’re taking a break from relationships, and now you’re with him.”
“I’m not fickle.” My jaw clenches.
He makes a mock cooing noise. “Dear Jensen, I don’t think you know your head or your heart. The last few months demonstrate that. You’ve changed. Maybe you need to find a new therapist. That one you’ve been working with clearly isn’t worth the copay.”
“Asshole.” Garrett lets go of me and starts towards Miles.
“No.” I place my hand on his shoulder, stopping his movement.
“Miles is right. I am different.” I look toward the smug literary fuckboy.
“There was a time when I liked you. It was a simpler time when I thought you were all I deserved.” My mouth ticks up into a sardonic grin.
“But now I know my value. I deserve the best, and you, Miles Calloway, are nobody’s best, especially mine. ”
“First, the race. Now this. You’re not what I believed you were. I thought you were sweet. Guess I was mistaken,” he spits out the insult as if he has the power to hurt me.
Be sweet. Don’t be too much trouble. Those little internal commands were my go-to for so long in hopes that I’d be liked. That a man like Miles would want me. But if I have to play at something, that’s acting. I don’t want theatre. I want real.
“But I am sweet,” I say, my stare fierce. “What you don’t realize is that sweet doesn’t mean I’ll wait around until someone decides they want me.”
“That’s not—”
“It is.” I release a humorless laugh. “You fed me some gaslighting bullshit about me never saying anything. You knew what I wanted. Everyone knew. I’m not subtle.”
“She’s not. It’s one of my favorite things about her,” Garrett says, his tone impressed.
“Thanks, baby.” Preening, I look over my shoulder at him, before turning back to Miles.
“I’m not here to fluff your ego, and that’s what you’re mad about.
” I motion between us. “This isn’t you being sad about me being with Garrett, it’s about your bruised male ego.
You don’t have me around to make you feel wanted anymore. ”
“You really aren’t who I thought you were,” he mutters.
“I’m so much more.” I make my spine tall and flash a large grin. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m on a date. Ready?” I hold out my hand to Garrett.
“Of course.” Garrett takes it, and we turn to walk away.
“Goodbye, Miles,” I say, moving toward the door.
“Miles…” Garrett stops me with a hand on my arm and looks behind his shoulder. “Jensen doesn’t need me to speak for her, but if you ever talk to her like that again, remember I’m a doctor. I know all the ways someone can get hurt and how to fix them, so it can be done again.”
“Are you threatening me?” he says, aghast.
“I don’t make threats.”
“Caveman,” he mutters.
“Perhaps.” And with that, Garrett drops my hand and hoists me over his shoulder. “But this caveman got the girl. Have the day you deserve, asshole.”
“Bye, Miles.” Laughing, I wave as Garrett carries me out of the theater.
The laughter and shocked gasps around us telegraph that the small crowd outside the theater is both bewildered and enjoying this spectacle.
I should be mortified. This is my workplace, after all.
As a blind person, I don’t blend in, so most students, faculty, and staff—even if they don’t know me directly—are aware of my existence. But I rather enjoy this.
“Is your possessive male point made, or are you carrying me all the way back to the SUV?” I tease as he carries me through the quad to the hoots and laughter of passing pedestrians.
“It’s partly to make a point to Professor Dillweed, and mostly because we’ll get to the car faster if I carry you since you’re in heels.”
“Eager to get me alone?” A wicked grin kicks across my face.
“Yes,” he squeezes my ass, making me squeak. “That was about the sexiest goddamn thing watching you school literary fuckboy.”
I sigh with contentment. “It really was, wasn’t it?”
“I’m glad you know your worth, and I endeavor to be the man worthy enough to call you…”
“Yours,” I say softly.
His nod brushes against my hip. He may not be ready to say it, but I know that I’m his, and he’s mine.
I don’t need the words. It may be too soon.
I may be swept up with this, but this is my truth.
It may be all wrong, but since when have Garrett and I done any of this right?
The only right I care about is how it feels with him.