The Supermodel's Best Friend

by Gretchen Galway

“I appreciate that,” Miles said quietly.

  “Quid pro quo, my friend.”

  Fawn came over from the front desk and hooked a hand around Huntley’s waist. They all stared at the pile of bags at their feet.

  “I kind of brought a lot,” Fawn said.

  Miles bent over and lifted the two largest bags. “No problem. Really. Very understandable, given your profession.”

  “Absolutely,” Huntley added. “We wouldn’t think of leaving a single thing behind. Not even for the night.”

  Fawn ran her hand through her hair, looking amused at their enthusiasm to haul all of her suitcases out to the Porsche. She slung a garment bag over her shoulder and let them carry the rest, a lopsided smile on her face.

  Halfway out to the car, his arms laden with the suitcases, Miles asked Huntley, “What did you say to make it up to her?”

  Huntley glanced back at Fawn. “That I loved her. That I’d stand up to my parents. How sorry I was.”

  “That’s it?”

  “What else was I supposed to say?”

  Miles dropped the suitcases near the trunk and went back for more just as Fawn caught up to Huntley and pressed him against the car for another kiss.

  There were at least six suitcases, each with wheels and handles that took up extra room. Miles lugged them out to the car, wondering if Lucy would be sober enough to get on the bike or if he should make his move here.

  “I’ll go on the bike with you,” Alex said, putting a firm hand his shoulder. “Lucy can go in the car.”

  Miles nudged Huntley and Fawn, still in each other’s arms, away from the car bumper. “Pop the trunk, Huntley the Third?”

  Without taking his mouth off of Fawn’s, Huntley reached into his pocket. The trunk popped open and Miles got to work filling it up.

  “Nope, definitely not enough room for all the bags. Some will just have to go in the back seat.” Miles went around and shoved the biggest suitcase behind the driver’s seat so Alex would have to sit behind leggy Fawn—who would obviously need to have her seat pushed all the way back, being so tall and everything.

  “Come on over, Lucy,” Alex called out, waving wildly. “I’ll go on the motorcycle.”

  Miles couldn’t see Lucy clearly enough in the darkness to read her face but she wasn’t rushing over.

  If she wanted Alex, she wouldn’t stay as far away from him as possible, right? She wouldn’t be fighting the urge to grab Miles’s butt?

  Which he’d enjoyed quite a bit.

  “What’s her problem?” Alex muttered, frowning across the car at her.

  “You’ll have to go in the car,” Miles said. “I don’t take anyone on the bike without proper gear.”

  “Lucy doesn’t have—”

  “She has the boots and the jacket. No armored pants, but it beats an oxford shirt and penny loafers.”

  Alex looked down at his feet then up at Miles, his jaw set. “I’ll take full responsibility.”

  “My bike, my rules.”

  “I know what you’re trying to do. Give it up.”

  Miles glanced over at Lucy, who was finally walking slowly toward them, carefully avoiding the potholes underfoot, her arms stretched out to either side for balance.

  She was a cute drunk, but he’d have to sober her up a little before he got her on the bike.

  His body tightened. There were empty rooms inside. A bed now, breakfast in the morning, and all the hours in between.

  “Break it up, you two,” Lucy said to Fawn and Huntley, who were still making out on the other side of the car. “Huntley has to get back to the spa and tell his parents to fuck off.” She poked Huntley in the ribs.

  Huntley squealed and jerked away from Fawn. “Hey!” He seemed to be only vaguely aware of the rest of them standing there.

  “Right?” Lucy demanded.

  Huntley sighed, gazed into Fawn’s eyes. “I’ll talk to them.”

  “Let’s get going,” Alex said. “Lucy, we’ve pushed the suitcases to one side so you’ll be pretty comfortable. It’s only a few miles, really.”

  Eyes on Lucy, Miles stepped forward and rested an elbow on the car, completely blocking the entrance with his generous figure. She met his gaze and held it a long moment.

  He thought about mentioning the safety issue again, how Alex was wearing flimsy clothes and shoes, definitely putting all that marriage material in jeopardy—but he wanted her to choose. Right now, in front of both of them.

  She turned to Alex. “You’ll freeze to death. Go on, I’ll go on the bike. It’s not far.”

  Miles silently let out the breath he was holding and found it was difficult to suck in another one.

  “It’s hardly safe for you to get on a motorcycle when you’ve been drinking,” Alex said.

  She raised an eyebrow. “I’ll be the judge of that.” She walked away from the car, arms extended to either side again, weaving through the potholes toward the bike.

  Flinching, Alex watched her go. He turned on Miles, eyes narrowed, his lips pressed in a flat line. “At least get her a cup of coffee first.” He climbed into the back seat.

  Smiling, Fawn got in the front.

  Huntley gave him a cheerful thumbs-up over the top of the car. “Have fun, Jolly.”

  * * *

  Lucy’s head was spinning. The hard, cold wind off the shore wasn’t enough to clear her mind. She leaned back against the railing that divided the parking lot from the gentle slope down to the beach and stared at the way Miles’s jeans hugged his thighs. Her whole body was hot, tense, ready for more of what they’d started.

  She couldn’t sleep with him, but she could look.

  The Porsche roared out of the lot, spitting gravel. She sighed. That wasn’t cool how she’d sent Alex away—not because she’d stayed, but because she hadn’t been candid with him. He was just so irritating. Aggressive, anal-retentive, goal-oriented.

  She was aware of her hypocrisy.

  “I’m too much like him,” she told Miles. He was only three feet away, eyes dark, moving closer. She ignored the sexual tension crackling between them. “Maybe it could work if I were different.”

  “Of course it could work if you were different.” He stepped close to her, almost touching, leaned next to her against the railing. “A different woman.”

  “I could change,” she said softly.

  “For what? For him?”

  “For me.”

  He bent closer. His lips were so close she could feel his breath. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

  “I want a husband.”

  His hand slid around the small of her back, pulling her hips up against his. “I don’t,” he said, and his mouth came down hard on hers.

  Chapter 16

  LUCY FROZE, STUNNED BY THE fierceness of his kiss. Unlike before, he wasn’t teasing, sweet, passive, cute. His tongue swept into her mouth, tangled with hers, demanded she respond. His large hands, so gentle before, grabbed her ass and lifted her up to grind against him, hard and hungry.

  She was too shocked to kiss him back or worry about pushing herself on him or think about the future. Her heart pounded in her chest, her nipples hardened, her legs went weak. While her mind froze, at war with itself, her body sparked to life.

  His hand slipped down between the cheeks of her ass and lifted her higher. She realized he was stroking her between her legs from behind, urging her thighs apart.

  Right there in the parking lot, the noisy bar only twenty feet away, Lucy gave up the fight. She hugged his neck and let him lift her higher. Straddling his hips, she wriggled close and hooked her ankles behind his back.

  He groaned into her mouth. His hands were too busy holding her up to explore her face, so she took over the kiss, tunneling her fingers through his hair and controlling the angle of their mouths.

  It was hard and fast and crazed. She could feel him thrusting the erection under his jeans into her crotch. Two layers of denim between them, a maddening obstruction.

  She slipped one hand down
his hard chest, down his stomach between their bodies. His jacket was in the way, the thick leather bunched under her breasts. She shoved it aside to reach his belt.

  Miles leaned back on the railing and she slid down his body to stand tiptoe on the ground, her attention now on the damn buckle. She had to break the kiss, her breathing fast and uneven, to see what she was doing.

  The bulge below was too much to resist. Hard, warm, big under her palm, she stroked him—

  “Wait,” he gasped. “Oh, God.” He put his hand over hers and pressed down. She felt him jump under her fingers as they explored the shape and length of him.

  “There’s a path right over there,” Lucy said, caressing him. “Down to the beach.”

  He leaned back and looked into her face, doubt battling lust. She could see the moment he caught up to her and his expression hardened with determination.

  He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the path. They tripped over the curb, too eager to watch their step.

  If they didn’t slow down they were going to get hurt.

  It wasn’t a swimming beach. Even surfers stayed away from this rocky spot. But people couldn’t resist beauty, and many feet had worked their way down the rocks to the nooks that formed at low tide. Though it was cold and the air was misty from the crashing waves, they hurried to get even closer to the frigid shore that was dark and secluded and invisible from above.

  The moment their feet hit level sand they were back in each other’s arms. Miles leaned back against a rock that was taller than him and pulled her up against his body. He slipped his hand between her legs and kissed his way down her neck to the hollow of her throat, licking and nipping and taking.

  “Do you really want to do this?” he asked. She could feel his breath against her skin. “I mean, here? We could go to the room—”

  She stroked him again. “Do you have a condom?”

  He leaned his head back. Sucked in a breath. “Wallet.”

  Taking her time, she searched his front pockets, slowly and carefully, then slid her hands to the back and pulled it out.

  He shuddered. Through his teeth he said, “You’re killing me.”

  The wallet was thick leather, like his coat, soft and warm. He snatched it out of her hands and had the condom removed and out of the foil before she took another breath. Not wanting to be outdone, slightly annoyed he’d grabbed it so roughly, she unzipped his fly and wriggled her fingers inside.

  He froze. Let her unbutton his jeans and free him.

  “I want you,” she told him.

  “Glad to hear it.” He grabbed her wrist. “A second. Need one.”

  Grinning, she rubbed up against him and reached her hand behind his neck to pull his mouth to hers. He got the condom on and surprised her by tugging her down sideways onto his lap where he sat in the sand, the rock at his back. He unbuttoned her jeans.

  “You’ve got the best ass in world, you know that?” His hands were under the denim, under her panties, pulling the fabric down her thighs. She knelt in the sand next to him. Felt icy wind on her exposed bottom. Then warm, strong hands.

  With him sitting on the ground, it was easier to kiss him, to reach all of him. While she licked his jaw, savoring the roughness under her tongue, kissing his racing pulse, he was struggling to get her out of her pants.

  He held her face in both hands and pulled her away from him. “Take off your boots,” he said roughly.

  It was the most erotic thing she’d ever heard.

  She managed to stand up on her shaking legs, her jeans and underwear sinking below her hips, and turn to face the ocean. She bent over and pulled the lace on the first boot.

  A large hand clamped down on her calf, but she swiveled to the other boot and took her time.

  His hands moved up her calves, the backs of her knees, hooked into the fabric to expose the rest of her. Before she could shake off the first boot, one palm circled her ass and his fingers were—

  “Oh, God,” she said. He was between her legs. Delicate, tickling, eager.

  “Could you please hurry the fuck up with the footwear?” he asked softly, adding a finger.

  Three seconds later and she was barefoot in the gritty sand. Then naked from the waist down, facing the ocean and suddenly shy about turning around.

  Powerful hands grabbed her hips and pulled her down into his lap. Strong arms turned her around, hooked one leg over his other side, clamped on either side of her and positioned her on top of him.

  His mouth was on hers again, demanding and hot, and she wanted him. She needed him to touch her again. The wind was cold at her back, there on the public beach with the noisy crowd inside just above their heads. She’d never done anything like this before in her life. Never thought she would.

  “Miles,” she groaned. He was rubbing his cock between their bodies, not inside yet but slowly separating her while he lifted her hips up and down, up and down, working them both wild.

  She shifted, trying to get the angle right, clutching his shoulders.

  And then he thrust inside. Filled her. Huge, hard, sudden.

  Throwing her head back, she let him drive deeper, lift her up, impale her again. His fingers clamped onto her hips, unwavering, pushing her up and down in a building rhythm, impossibly strong and relentless.

  She’d never known pleasure like it in her life.

  No longer trying to anticipate his speed or do anything in return, she let go. She flipped the switch and went blank. If she hadn’t been so tense, spiraling down into a whirlpool of the best orgasm of her life, she would have laughed.

  Miles thrust into her, tireless, watching her with black, black eyes. When his arms buckled and his rhythm faltered because he’d hit the wall, was jerking with his climax, she threw her head back and let her thoughts go white with blinding, shuddering joy.

  * * *

  A sharp stick was poking Lucy in her left knee. He was still inside her, his arms holding her tightly against his chest.

  They were both fully clothed from the waist up. Miles wore his boots, and even his thighs were mostly covered by his jeans. The madness was fading, but they didn’t move or say anything. Was he waiting for her to speak first?

  I’m drunk, Lucy thought. Her bare ass stuck out under her jacket, probably visible for miles around. A white moon on the beach. Miles’s hands had released her hips, and one gently stroked her hair.

  Not drunk enough.

  Tension was building again, and not the sexual kind.

  Reluctantly, she pushed herself off his chest and lifted herself free of him. While she got to her feet and scrabbled around in the sand for her clothes, he cleaned up, giving the beach and the used condom a pained look before stuffing it in his jeans pocket.

  Afterglow was a bitch.

  Silently, he watched her pull on her underwear, jeans, and boots, and she felt increasingly uncomfortable. “Miles…”

  “You don’t have to say it. I know.” He shrugged, stepped closer, out of the shadows. He had a little smile on his face.

  “How could you know? I don’t even know.”

  He took her hand and squeezed gently. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

  “I want to return to the resort tonight. I know we just did this and the room is right up there, but I want to go back to the resort.”

  He nodded, squeezed her hand again. “Of course. Should we grab a drink before we head back?” He zipped her jacket up to her throat, smoothed the leather over her shoulders. “Coffee, something else warm?”

  “You think you knew that’s what I was going to say?”

  “It’s okay, Lucy. I just fucked your alcohol-soaked brains out on a public beach. You’re entitled to whatever you want.” He pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes, then dropped his hands to his sides. “Let’s get out of here before the tide comes in.”

  She exhaled loudly, annoyed that he seemed to think she was some kind of victim. “I don’t regret what we did.”

  “Not yet.”

  “I’m not
going to.”

  He put a hand in the small of her back and nudged her toward the path up to the parking lot. She waited for him to say me neither, but he didn’t.

  He didn’t touch her during the walk up the bluff, not even when they got to the railing and climbed over into the lot. His motorcycle huddled there, away from the cars, the silhouette of its handlebars sticking up like antlers, and she had the funniest feeling that she was jealous of it, this vehicle of his that he rode every day—

  She dropped her face into her hands and sucked in a deep breath. Too much beer, too much everything.

  Miles was already striding over to the bike. He unlocked the rounded case on the back and took out a helmet, then another one, acting like nothing at all had just happened.

  “I have to use the bathroom,” she told him, turning on her heel and striding away.

  He jogged to catch up to her, the helmet under his arm. “You sound angry.”

  “I just have to use the bathroom.”

  “Sure,” he said, still following her.

  She stopped under the arbor, not sure what she was feeling. “I’m fine.”

  The light from the front door slanted across his left eye. He looked tense. “I didn’t plan for it to be that way.”

  “I told you, I don’t regret it. You didn’t push me into anything.”

  “I just—I got a little carried away,” he said.

  “Will you listen to me? I was right there with you. It was something that happened.” She dropped her gaze to a sliver of bare skin visible low on his throat under the layers of T-shirt and leather. Gently, she touched him there with an index finger, felt warmth, soft hair, his pulse. “It was pretty great.”

  He put a hand over hers and held it to his chest. “Let’s get a drink before we go back. Water, coffee, whiskey, whatever.”

  “I don’t want to go back in that bar,” she said.

  “We’ll stop somewhere else on the way.”

  She shook her head, freed her hand, and went inside. Just a quick bathroom break and she’d be fine. Splash some water on her face, wash the sand out from under her fingernails, shake the sand out of her shoes. Tomorrow she would figure this out.

  “There you are,” the lady at the desk said, slapping a key on the desk. She was blond with gray roots, and wore red cat-eye glasses and a tight plaid flannel shirt. “I was about to close up. Breakfast is from eight to ten-thirty, but the chocolate waffles go fast, so I’d get here before nine if I were you.” She saluted her with a steaming coffee mug.