by Sierra Hill
The scent of the fragrant flowers does nothing to compare to the tantalizing scent of a freshly showered Miles, which I catch a whiff of as he walks into the apartment, in search of somewhere to put down the bouquet.
Miles finds a spot on the counter, turns back around, and hangs his head in apology. He gives me a sorrowful hangdog look through his thick, dark lashes.
“And then Granny told me that there are only two ways a man can make it up to a woman he’s wronged. One is showing up with flowers”—he sweeps his hand back toward the arrangement, and the corner of his mouth curls up in a smug grin—“and the other is through a grand gesture.”
“Hmm,” I respond, crossing my arms over my chest, the move lifting my breasts, which grabs Miles’s attention. His lips part, and his gaze lands on my now pebbled nipples poking through my nightshirt before rising to meet my eyes. “And what grand gesture do you propose?”
I’ve never in my life seen Miles Thatcher nervous. He was and is the epitome of a confident male. But the slight quake of his voice conveys a very atypical lack of conviction.
“I want to take you out on a date.”
“Is there a question there?”
“Oops, yeah, sorry. Definitely out of my comfort zone here. But yes, there is a question in that statement.”
Miles takes two steps toward me. His trademark smile—that I know for a fact got him into a dozen different girls’ panties in high school—breaks across his face.
“Button,” he says, my nickname slipping from his tongue like sweet honey, thick and slow. “Will you go out with me, so I can prove that I’m not an ass all the time and that I can be a decent guy for you?”
He unwraps my arms, his knuckles accidentally brushing over my protruding nipples, causing an unladylike gasp to fall from my lungs. He offers me his hands, which I place mine in and he wraps them up. They’re warm and solid, and they tug me closer to him, so we are only a hair’s breadth apart. The air between us charges with static electricity, crackling with the intensity of the moment, bringing back that flame that only barely diminished last night.
Miles slips an arm around my back, his palm settling at the base of my spine and presses me into his body, eliminating any remaining space.
“What’s your answer, Button? Will you go out with me?”
If I could capture this moment and send it back in time to teenage Sutton, she still wouldn’t believe that Miles Thatcher was asking her out on a date.
The gorgeous, most sought-after boy in town, who only a select few were fortunate enough to gain his attention, is asking me out on a date. The girl who was always in his shadow and worshipped him from afar.
I wish I could torment him a little. But that’s not my style. I have no desire to play games or make him chase after me. Glancing at the flowers and then back into his dreamy-blue gaze, I tell him the God’s honest truth.
“Miles, I’ve been waiting to hear you ask that question my whole life. Yes, I’ll go out with you.”
24
Miles
My schedule this week was insane, and by the time Friday rolls around, I’m worn out. But there is light at the end of the tunnel because Sutton had agreed to go out with me on Friday night. The chaos of my job is the only thing that kept me grounded and focused. Otherwise, I would’ve folded under the temptation to see her every night after work.
The anticipation of my date with Sutton lifts my spirits and propels me toward the finish line. A finish that I hope will lead to a lot more with her.
We’d snuck in time to hang out several times throughout the week before our date, too. A Tuesday morning swim session before work led to a hot make out session where I had Sutton up against the pool wall. My hard dick between her legs, grinding against her like a teenage boy. A cold shower was required for me to get things under control before I left for work.
And last night, our schedules aligned so I could join her and Blackie for an evening walk to the park. I think our goodbye kiss lasted longer than the actual walk.
Which has only increased my need to be inside her. To learn every curve of her body. To kiss and mark her soft, supple skin. To make her mine.
But first, the date.
I’ve pulled out all the stops for tonight. To ensure that Sutton knows the depth of my feelings for her and how terribly sorry I am for not recognizing her from so long ago. To apologize for the regrets I have for unintentionally overlooking her when we were younger and making her feel insignificant. And most importantly, ask for forgiveness over my recent actions and behaviors.
Yes, I realize I acted like an asshat toward her. What can I say? I don’t need a psychiatrist to tell me that the deaths of my mother and sister turned me into the hardened man I am. While their deaths pushed me to become a hard-nosed investment advisor, it certainly hasn’t done me any favors in my personal life.
Granny would be ashamed of me, and Mel wouldn’t like the man I am now. It’s my mission to rectify this with Sutton, replacing the recent me in favor of new memories with the man I believe I can be. Starting tonight.
Tonight, we’re at square one. The beginning. With a goal to treat her like a queen, and I am her loyal subject.
Even if I’m no prince, perhaps she’ll be able to overturn the frog curse.
“Where are you taking me?” Sutton stands at the entryway, not altogether different from the first time I saw her there a few weeks before.
“Is that how you greet your handsome date?”
“Stop. You know you look handsome,” she says, with a rosy blush over her cheeks.
“And you look exceptionally hot.” I waggle my eyebrows and give her a slow, appraising glance, my eyes tracking her entire body from head to toe.
She’s dressed in a form-fitting, black cocktail dress, with bare legs and knock-out high heels that increase her height by a good three inches. She stands with her hands locked on her hips, lips penciled in with the barest shade of cotton-candy pink, hair falling in loose, beachy summer waves over her shoulders.
She is too beautiful for words.
“Have you always been this impatient?” I jest, giving her my arm to take as I escort her toward the elevator.
She shrugs and picks up her purse, raising an eyebrow at me.
As she closes the door behind her, she relays a stern but sweet goodbye to the dog. “Watch the house, Blackie, and be on your best behavior. No getting into the toilet paper rolls again.”
Giving her my arm to take to escort her toward the elevator, my laugh escapes unbidden. “TP rolls? What’s that all about?”
Sutton lets out a frustrated huff, slips her arm in mine, and shakes her head. “I think my employer conveniently forgot to mention a few things about Blackie. While most of the time, he’s a perfect angel, he definitely has a naughty side. I think he was a little mad at me for being away from home more than usual last weekend. When I came home Saturday night, I found toilet paper strewn all over the apartment floor. It was a complete mess and looked like a fraternity house lawn party.”
“Ah, those were the days.”
The elevator door dings open as I press my palm in the small of her back, instantly zapped with the same sharp electricity that continues to exist between us. The current continues to intensify and grow stronger and stronger with each passing day.
I punch the button for the lobby and slip my fingers through hers, holding her hand proprietarily. Something I haven’t ever done with any woman before her.
She turns and glances at me with a sideways look. “I know what you were like in high school, from what I observed, at least. But what about college? What were you like then?”
“Truth? Or a glossy, classed-up version of it?”
She nudges me in the ribs with an elbow. “The truth, goofball. Always.”
I make a tsking noise with my tongue between my teeth. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Ooh,” she balks, squirming in my hold. “You make it sound like you were a troublemak
er. Now I’m really intrigued.”
We continue the light banter as we exit the elevator and head out to get into the Uber I’d already ordered before leaving my apartment.
Helping her inside, I watch as she slides gracefully across the seat, smoothing down her skirt as she situates herself in the back of the car.
“I’d say I was a pretty wild the first year. I’d gotten a taste for partying and realized I really liked the freedom of being away from home. And while Granny wasn’t ever super strict, there were still things a nineteen-year-old boy couldn’t do at home that he got away with in a college dorm.”
I stop there, wondering if she’ll expect details. Based on the “go-on” expression in her amused eyes, I think she definitely wants more.
“Come on, Button. Do I really need to spell it out?”
She bites down on her lip seductively, her front teeth gnawing at her full bottom lip, and all I can focus on is her delicious mouth. All I want is to capture her mouth with mine and devour her. Take her in the backseat of this car—damn anyone else or privacy. I just want her. I want Sutton more than I’ve ever wanted another girl. Or rather, woman. Because she is all woman now.
She uses her tongue to swipe over her front teeth coyly, batting her thick dark lashes.
“Yes, Miles. Spell it out for me.”
She leans to the side toward me, her knees touching mine, her hand sliding up the inseam of my pant leg until it’s just south of my groin, and I have to slap my hand down over hers, capturing it mid-thigh. I hold her hand securely in mine to avoid embarrassing myself.
“Did you fuck lots of girls in college, Miles?” she whispers in my ear, and God help me, I nearly lose it as the crude word spills from her mouth.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I’m spellbound as she returns to her spot looking demure and angelic, her hand still caught under my grip, her soft, feminine scent lingering in my space. She just unveiled a new aspect of her I hadn’t known up till now, and it’s working me into a frenzy of lust with the need to taste her. To fill her. To fuck her blind.
My cock twitches with arousal while her slender fingers toy with the material of my pants. And without further hesitation, I drag her hand to cover my crotch. The pressure of her hand has me drawing in a sharp breath as she exhales a gasp at finding me hard.
That’s right, baby. I’m hard for you.
Her passionate, sensual yet uncalculated response to my ardent need pleases me. My dick swells further, throbbing hard with a desire to be touched, sucked, or fucked. Just to see more of her delighted response to this sexy game, I position her hand at the tip and slide it down over the entire length before stroking it back up.
I’m pretty certain this isn’t typical first date etiquette, and we may have skipped a few important steps in the Dating 101 manual. But my cock doesn’t give two fucks about the process right now. It simply wants to get to the endgame—with Sutton in my bed and my dick sliding home inside her.
“Sutton,” I warn with a ragged breath, my voice riddled with desire. “We shouldn’t start something we can’t finish.”
The caution in my statement is meant to stop her, but it seems to make a case for me.
I’m so hot and hard right now I could combust. Made only worse by the way she’s gazing at me, with a mix of eagerness and heavy-lidded desire.
“But what if I want to finish it? Right now?”
I consider my options, because goddamn this Uber ride. I should’ve had more foresight and ordered a private car with a privacy screen in the back. But who knew we’d be moving this quickly so fast? There has been a tremendous amount of foreplay and build-up between us this week, but I wasn’t prepared for this level of intimacy and eagerness with her.
Inhaling deeply, I reluctantly remove her hand and place it back on her lap, swallowing thickly.
“Later.” My voice is gruff, but laced with promise, as she sticks her sweet, pink bottom lip out in a sexy pout, like a petulant child.
With imperious demand, not being one to let an act of rebellion go unpunished, I clasp my hand behind her nape, digging my fingertips into her soft, pliant skin and hold her still while my mouth crashes over hers. The kiss is rough, demanding, and more than a little brutal and not anywhere close to sweet. And the loud moan that escapes her lips indicates she likes it.
Through the hold I have around her neck, I feel her heart beating wildly, my thumb covering the fast beating pulse in her jugular that thrums rapidly with excitement.
When I pull back and survey the damage, Sutton’s lipstick is smeared, her hair a tangled mess, and her lips swollen and puffy from my hungry kisses.
She smiles dreamily, her eyes flickering appreciatively as she comes out of her haze of lust. My body is strung tight, the pulsing beat of my need welling dangerous and deep in my thickening cock to fuck this girl hard.
Now. Now. Now.
I chastise myself for losing control and sit back to catch my breath. We sit in protracted silence, breaths returning to normal, the air still electric between us.
Sutton’s cheekbones tint a rosy, flushed pink as she extracts a small compact mirror and begins adjusting her appearance as I watch the process, clenching my hands in my lap.
“I’m usually more patient than this when I date a guy.” She peers at me through her lashes, a humorous glint in her eyes. “But with you, Miles, it’s different. I’ve already been waiting for years, so I’ve decided I’m not sticking to my three-date rule.”
A spike of jealousy hits me square in the chest to think of her dating and sleeping with other men, but my scowl quickly transforms when I realize what she’s implying.
I quirk an eyebrow upward. “Three-date rule, huh? Why’s that?”
Leaning in again, I nuzzle at her neck gently, where I’d just been rough moments before, skimming lingering wet kisses anywhere I can taste her sweet, fragrant skin. Goosebumps form over the exposed area, and it ratchets up my desire to see where that trail of shivers leads.
Sutton replaces the compact in her purse, carefully laying it back on her lap, setting her hands on top of it in a demure posture before turning toward me.
And with earnest sincerity that I recognize is signature Sutton, she says, “I’ve wanted to be with you since I was thirteen, Miles. I think I’ve waited long enough.”
25
The Past—Sutton
Turning thirteen during the summer is both a blessing and a curse.
Once summer begins and school is out, it’s hard to have birthday parties with your friends and classmates when everyone leaves town on family trips to the beaches or attends summer camps.
This year is no exception, and because my dad has to work today, my mom takes me and Melodie, and our other friend Sophia, to the ice cream shop on Main Street. I’ve never liked the texture of cake, but love ice cream of any flavor, so we decide to all go load up on the sundaes topped with sweets and candy, whipped cream topping and cherries. Afterward, we’ll return to my house to open presents and then go to the community pool.
This year, however, has given me an unexpected gift that money could never buy. As the three of us skip arm-and-arm into the shop, giggling because we can’t all fit through the doorway at the same time, we unlink our arms to enter. Upon entering, I overhear a group of boys in the back corner of the shop and turn to look. Their boisterous laughter echoes across the parlor.
My eyes scan the area to find where the commotion is coming from, and I see Miles hanging out in a booth with a couple of his pals and a girl who is nestled tightly against him, with his arm slung around her shoulder.
“Oh God, I can’t go anywhere without him showing up with his stupid friends,” Mel bellyaches over finding her brother here. “He never lets me have any fun when he’s around.”
We all grab a booth, and my mom heads to the counter to place our orders. I try to look inconspicuous and guardedly watch out of the corner of my eye to see what Miles is doing. Today he’s dressed in a faded Zumiez T-shir
t, cargo shorts and flip-flops, his dark inky hair a tousled mess that looks ridiculously like Zac Efron from High School Musical. And while Mel and Sophia chatter about a boy they met at the mall last night, I can’t keep my eyes off Miles.
His easy smile is thrown haphazardly around the table, and all I want more than anything is to be that girl with him right now. The girl nuzzling up to him, basking in his beautiful pretty-boy smile, his arm looped around me, the stories he shares just for me.
And then it happens. I’m so lost in what Miles is doing that the entire building could burn down around me, and I wouldn’t take notice. All my attention is on Miles as he pops the girl’s sundae cherry into his mouth, pinches his lips together, his lips screwing up tight and moving from side to side until finally he victoriously pulls his masterpiece from his mouth.
I’ve heard of kids tying knots with cherry stems before. I always thought it was a weird party trick. But witnessing it happen with my own two eyes, as Miles performs it with a sensuality that I never knew existed, it does something spectacularly strange to my body.
There are tingles and fluttering butterflies taking flight in my belly. In fact, I feel kind of sick to my stomach. But not from the flu, or how you feel after gorging on ice cream, but something else. Something brought on by an emotion I’ve never felt before.
My mouth goes dry, and I swear I have a fever because my temperature skyrockets in a matter of seconds. I cover my cheeks with my hands, and sure enough, they are flushed hot.
“Earth to Sutton! Are you okay?”
Mel waves a hand in front of my blank face, looking concerned over my state of appearance. And then my mom returns with a tray of sundaes and a candle on top of mine.
“Okay, girls, let’s all sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to our birthday girl.”
I’m still in a fascinated trance by what I just witnessed Miles do, but return my attention back to my friends, as they sing a very loud, and very offkey, rendition of the celebratory song.