Chapter 27
I bent and shifted the cookie-laden plate that was on the coffee table, to the left, and then clicked my tongue before shifting it back to its original place. I pulled at my red sweater dress once, and then soothed it back down with a hand.
I moved the plate again. And again.
Wiggled my toes.
Stretched my legs.
Stared at the fireplace like it was Regé-Jean’s ass from the 5th, and well, the 6th, episodes of Bridgerton.
Pushed my hair this way and that, as if that’d do anything remotely useful.
And then, just before I completely lost my sanity, my phone vibrated in my hand.
Thank fuck.
Beauty: Knock-knock.
I chuckled as I read his message.
Me: Took you long enough.
Beauty: I have a…leg situation tonight, as you already know. Couldn’t drive fast because of that.
I got to my feet and made my way to the door.
Me: I’m coming, hold on.
Beauty: That’s what she said ;)
I choked out a laugh.
Me: I could keep you standing outside for that horrendous excuse of a joke, you know that, right?
Beauty: But baby, it’s cold outside :’(
I snickered.
Me: You’re lucky you’re cute.
I slowly, almost theatrically, opened the top latches, and then pushed the knob down before opening the door, only to blink repeatedly at Myles, who was standing on the Welcome mat with a grin on his face.
His hair was coiffed – something I’d never seen him do before.
He was wearing a tailored-to-fit grey suit jacket, which complemented his complexion but clashed with his eyes, along with a black silk shirt and grey pants.
He had his regular winter coat draped over his left arm, and when I looked down, I couldn’t help but gawk at his shoes.
His Dad Sneakers, I mean.
They were neon green and white, and everything about them was wrong compared to the clothes he was wearing.
I quickly closed my mouth when I realized it’d hung open on its own accord, and took a couple steps back so that Myles could enter.
He limped his way inside, and I frowned.
What kind of shoes? I signed to him.
He grimaced. “Fucking Oxfords,” he said softly.
I pressed my lips together, to which he rolled his eyes.
“Go ahead and laugh, Rina. I know you want to.” He hung his coat on the rack, took off his…shoes, and then his socks, while I closed the door like the stealthy bitch that I was, before turning to face him.
I’m sorry, I signed.
He pulled me to him – so close that I could feel his belt press against my navel. “You’re so not sorry,” he whispered against my lips, and then kissed me.
I held onto the urge to moan, especially when I opened my mouth for him, and he took everything I wanted to give him without a care in the world.
My breaths labored when his lips travelled to my jaw and neck – unhurried – and the sharp sting of his stubble made goosebumps rise throughout my body.
His hands came to my waist, and he fisted my sweater before gazing down at me. “God, you’re breathtaking, Rina.” He dropped a soft kiss on my nose. “Who knew red wool could be such a turn-on.”
I chuckled and ran a hand over the lapel of his suit jacket, and then flicked my eyes up to him before signing, Wow.
He smiled and took hold of my hand before placing soft, open-mouthed pecks on the inside of my wrist. “Thank you,” he said, and a slight blush creeped up his cheeks.
I jerked my head to the side, and twined our fingers before walking us to the fireplace.
Myles shrugged off his jacket and placed it on the couch’s armrest, and we then sat down with our backs to it. We stretched our legs out in front of us, and Myles’s eyes widened a little as he looked at the things laid out on the coffee table. “You did all this for me?” he asked.
I’d set the tiny table with a couple cranberry candles, a tall glass of champagne, two small plates of Lofthouse cookies and pavê, and one full of cheese-flavored nachos, because I didn’t have anything savory to offer him.
I nodded in response to his question.
Myles’s expression softened, and he leaned in to press a kiss on my lips. “Have I told you how fucking awesome you are?”
I clicked my tongue and shook my head.
He grinned. “Liar,” he whispered, and then kissed me again.
I cupped the side of his neck to deepen the kiss, and when we pulled back, I gently ran the pad of my thumb over his throat. I then let my gaze wander his frame, his jaw, the three undone buttons of his shirt, and the way the fire cast a shadow over his side profile.
“Hey,” He placed a knuckle under my chin and lifted my face to his. “What’s up?”
You are beautiful, I signed.
He chuckled. “Look who’s talking.”
I rolled my eyes and slapped his hand away. Eat, I signed.
With another grin, he straightened and grabbed a piece of pavê before examining it like it was an artifact or something.
“What’s this?” he asked, and then, put the whole thing in his mouth before I could even answer him.
I stifled a laugh when he moaned while chewing it, and then grabbed the notebook and pen I’d set out on the couch.
It’s called pavê. It’s a Brazilian dessert made out of chocolate, walnut, pecans, bananas, etc. And, for the love of God, do NOT try to pronounce it.
When I showed him what I’d written, he read it quickly before shoving another piece into his mouth.
“I love it,” he said with a mouth-full of pavê, but it sounded more like: “Ah wuv iff.”
Once he was done, he sipped some champagne and nudged my shoulder. “How was dinner?”
I shrugged. Okay, I signed.
He raised a brow as he grabbed a pink cookie from its plate. “Just okay?”
I asked him to wait, and then began writing in my notebook while he finished his first cookie.
It was hectic. So much random gossip, boring this and that.
Av? was happy to see everyone under one roof, but I felt a little suffocated, to be honest. I constantly felt like I needed air, but I couldn’t possibly leave because I had friends who wanted to chat with me, and people I had to serve dinner to.
I’m glad it didn’t last longer, or else I’d have lost it completely.
Myles frowned after reading that. “Is it like this every year?”
Not necessarily.
“You could’ve texted me, Rina. I’d have bailed you out.”
I squeezed his free hand. I appreciate it, I wrote.
His frown deepened. “Are you sure you’re okay?
” he questioned, and then looked at the coffee table.
“God, I’m so fucking inconsiderate. You’ve been running ‘round cooking and cleaning and serving for hours, and I didn’t even think about that once before stuffing my face like a damn asshole.
” He made to place the half-eaten cookie on the plate, but I grabbed his wrist in order to stop him.
He relented with a huff, and then shoved the cookie into his mouth.
I’m okay, I signed, but when he still appeared doubtful, I fisted my left hand, touched the index finger of my right hand to my chin, and slapped the palm of that very same hand over my fist to say: Promise.
He searched my face for a second or two, and then downed some more of the champagne before giving me a nod.
How was Mass? I wrote.
“Good,” he said sincerely. “Mom cried for at least half of it, but that’s nothing new; she does that every year. Dad and Taron tried to hush her, but she just doesn’t get the memo.”
I wasn’t sure whether or not to laugh at that, so I just blinked at him.
He chuckled. “Wow, Rina; act at least a little bit amused. We don’t want my mom to think she’s lost her touch.”
I laughed, and Myles moved closer to me before placing an arm on the couch.
Do you enjoy attending Mass? I wrote.
“Yeah,” he said around a smile. “It’s peaceful, and yet so powerful that it moves you in a way you don’t mind being moved.”
I returned his smile.
Must be nice.
“It is,” he stated. “You ever attended?”
I shook my head.
But I want to.
“I’ll take you next year,” he told me with so much confidence that it made me swallow. “Screw the family dinner; come hang out with us Reyes for one Christmas. And if you don’t leave with your brain in your ass by the end of it, I swear to you that I’ll change my name.”
I placed a hand over my mouth to muffle the sound of my laughter, whereas Myles hid his face in my hair to do the same.
I sniffed as I regained my freaking sanity, and then punched Myles in the arm before signing, Asshole.
“You just love signing that, don’t you?” he mused. “You find any and every excuse to show me your finger-hole.”
I pursed my lips and gave him a look full of warning.
Stop.
“Why? Are you scared of making a noise and waking up your cranky ol’ av??” His eyes gleamed, and I saw the challenge in them – clear as fucking day.
He leaned in and bit the skin just below my ear, right before sucking it into his mouth.
My back arched against him, and he took that as an opportunity to cup my left breast from over my sweater.
I let go of a broken sigh, and Myles pulled my face to his before crashing our mouths together.
God, it was fire and pain; it was unashamed and wild. The way Myles kissed me was dizzying, all-encompassing.
He bit my lower lip, and I pushed my nails into his jaw.
He touched his tongue to the roof of my mouth, so I grabbed the collar of his shirt and brought him closer to me.
He pulled at my hair and fucked my mouth with abandon, and I cupped the back of his neck as I tried to remember where each of us began and ended.
“Rina,” he all but pleaded, his voice a bit hoarse, and then tugged at the hem of my sweater. “Take it off.”
I moved back a little and did just that, and watched as Myles’s eyes roved over my white bra and underwear.
“Fuck me,” he muttered. “Come here.”
I moved toward him, and as he slipped my bra down to run his thumbs over my nipples, I pressed my lips to his so as to avoid moaning out loud, and began unbuttoning his shirt.