by Hayes, Lane
I rocked my hips, letting the tempo build steadily as we entwined our tongues in sweet, lazy kisses. Miles dropped his legs and locked them around my waist. Then he tilted his hips to meet me thrust for thrust. He groaned and gasped my name when I pushed my hand between our sweat-slicked torsos to reach for his cock. I quickened my pace, stroking him while I licked his lips. When I pulled back to adjust my weight, he flung his arms over my neck and shook his head.
“Don’t go. I like this. Just this. Please. Keep moving.”
“I’m not going anywhere, baby.”
“Oh fuck, that’s…I like that. Call me baby.”
So I did. I chanted “baby” over and over like a song lyric I couldn’t get out of my head, then devoured him in a thousand kisses as I pistoned my hips like a madman. The squeaking mattress and the rattle of the headboard hitting the wall were only slightly louder than our heavy breathing and the sound of our bodies colliding in a passionate frenzy. The buildup to release was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. No matter how incredible I knew it would certainly feel, I didn’t want to let go. But when he bit my shoulder and reached to fondle my balls as they smacked against his ass, I had no choice but to surrender.
I buried my head in the crook of his neck and fell apart. My arms shook as I struggled not to collapse on top of him. Part of me floated somewhere above us in a blissed-out sensual haze, reveling in orgasmic pleasure. Miles brought me down to earth when he reached for his cock and stroked himself furiously.
“Keep moving. Please.”
I licked my lips and obeyed then bucked my hips as I grasped his shoulders. “Come for me, baby.”
“I’m so close. I—oh fuuuuck.” Miles threw his head back on the pillow in ecstasy as ropes of cum shot across his chest.
He moaned softly and curled his body around me, locking his legs over my ass and his arms around my neck. I held him close for a minute, breathing in his scent. When I was sure my weight had to be too much, I tried to lift myself off him only to have him squeeze me tighter.
“Mi, let go. You’re choking me,” I said with a laugh.
“Mmm. Sorry, but just…stay. Just for a moment. This feels good,” he whispered.
He sounded so fragile; there was no way I’d deny him. I held on a little longer then carefully disengaged and sat up. I rolled the used condom off and wadded it in a tissue and left it on my nightstand. He probably had no idea how hard it was for me not to run to the bathroom to clean up properly. My friends laughed at my fastidious streak. They knew things like crumbs on a countertop drove me insane, but I was a million times worse when it came to sex. It wouldn’t be long before that wadded up tissue took on a life of its own in my head. But it seemed more important to stick close to Miles.
“Are you okay?” I asked, rolling onto my side to face him.
Miles stared up at the ceiling and nodded. “Yes.”
I thought I detected a small smile light the corner of his mouth, but he didn’t look at me, so I wasn’t sure. “Miles…”
He rolled to his side abruptly and beamed at me. His smile lit his face and made his eyes seem bluer and his hair a deeper shade of auburn. I was mesmerized by the colors and frankly, by that unnamable something that had nothing to do with the way he looked.
“I’m pretty fucking amazing. Thanks for asking. That was incredible.”
“Yeah. It was,” I agreed, laying my right hand on his hip.
“But I don’t think we should lie in bed. We’re asking for trouble.” He pulled away from me and sat up.
“How so?” I asked, running my fingers along his spine.
Miles shivered in response then turned with a smile. “The longer we lie here naked, the faster I’ll fall in lust with you. Can I use your bathroom?”
“Right.” I snorted at his playful tone then pointed toward the master bath. I kept my gaze on his bare ass until he disappeared into the adjoining room and closed the door behind him.
I glanced at the pile of discarded clothing on the chaise. And that damn pink boa. It was the reason we were here now. I was sure of it. I’d always had a thing for outlandish gestures and bright colors. Not for myself. I tended to wear muted colors…deep blues and grays. And my home was a study in black and white. Ebony-stained wood floors, white walls and window treatments, and mahogany or black leather furnishings. I liked minimalistic modern design that allowed important pieces of art to stand out.
Like the series of black and white photographs on the wall opposite my bed. I swung my legs over the side of the mattress and studied the photo of a dewdrop on a fallen leaf for a moment, hoping the tranquil composition would help alleviate my sense of impending doom. It didn’t work. All I could see was hot pink. And if I waited outside that bathroom door for another second, I might go mad. I grabbed the dirty tissue and a clean pair of briefs then swiped my clothes from the chaise and marched out the door and down the hall to use the guest bathroom.
I cleaned up quickly and did my best to avoid any reflective surface. I felt good. Amazing, actually. I didn’t want to ruin my buzz just in case the guy in the mirror threw a recriminating glance my way and urged me to ask complicated questions like, “What the fuck are you thinking?” The answer was, “I have no clue.” I only knew that Miles’s brand of chaos intrigued me and allowed me to set my own aside.
At the moment, I’d give anything to stay out of my head.
I finished in the bathroom then moved down the hall toward the kitchen to find Miles perched on a barstool. He glanced up from his cell when I walked in and skirted the island.
“Hi.”
“Hi. Um…want some coffee?” I asked as I made a beeline for the coffee machine.
I pulled out two mugs and held them out awkwardly like he might want to approve the cup I poured the damn coffee into. When he nodded, I set them both on the counter then turned to make a cup of java I certainly didn’t need. I wasn’t ready to talk. I needed a few minutes to get used to the idea of Miles being in my space. I heard him hum softly but he didn’t speak, and as the seconds ticked by, the quiet became comforting. I pushed a mug across the island toward him and started to head to the nearest barstool when he raised his hand.
“Do you have cream and sugar?”
“No cream but I’m sure my mom left sugar here somewhere.” I glanced at the wall of white cabinetry and played a quick guessing game. I opened and closed three doors before finally finding what I was looking for. “Ah-ha! Here you go.”
Miles gave me a funny look when I pushed a five-pound bag of sugar at him with a spoon. “Really? Don’t you have a sugar bowl?”
“I’m sure I do somewhere, but my mother rearranges my kitchen every time she visits, and it’s never exactly like the time before.”
“That would drive me nuts,” he commented as he unfurled the edged of the bag then scooped sugar into his coffee cup.
“It does at first, but within a couple of days, I’m too stressed out about other things to worry about where my mother hid the utensils,” I huffed with a laugh.
“What kinds of things?”
I focused on his long fingers and the elegant bend of his wrist. He had an aristocratic air about him sometimes that fascinated me. I’d caught on that he turned it on and off at will, which was usually a sign of a coping mechanism of sorts. See? All my years in therapy came in handy. I was a pro at dissecting everyone else’s issues. My own were still a mystery. Actually, that wasn’t true. I could identify my problems easily. Dealing with them was another story.
“Family things,” I said in a dull tone before gesturing toward the great room. “Let’s move over there. I feel like stretching my legs.”
Miles followed me into the adjacent space and sat on a corner of the black leather sofa. I flopped into the opposite corner and watched him. He sipped his coffee then stared at the geometric shapes of the area rug before turning to me with an intense expression.
“What now?”
“Um…well, we can hit one or two more places on
my list. If you have time, of course,” I suggested, leaning forward to set my mug on the coffee table.
“That’s not what I meant.”
I didn’t think so. I pursed my lips thoughtfully then hiked my knee on the sofa as I shifted to fully face him. He’d changed back into his clothes but left his shoes and socks off. Dammit, even his feet were sexy. I didn’t think that was possible. I tried to smile but my mouth wouldn’t cooperate, so I cleared my throat instead and made a valiant effort to maintain eye contact before I spoke.
“I don’t know what happens next.” I lowered my gaze and focused on his hands again before continuing.
“Me either.” He cradled his mug thoughtfully then took a sip and set it on the table with more force than necessary. “Are we going to pretend it didn’t happen?”
“No.” I grabbed his wrist when he tried to stand and yanked him back onto the sofa. He fell half onto my lap then scooted sideways. I hooked my arm around his shoulder to keep him close, chuckling at his put-upon scowl. “I can’t do that. I’m not that good of an actor.”
“I’m going to make it easy for you. I’ll take the condo you just showed me and—”
“That place was terrible.”
“Then why did you show it to me?” he asked, jumping to his feet.
I waved my hand dismissively and rolled my eyes. “It’s a sales technique. I was giving you the feature you said mattered at the lowest price in this neighborhood. You wanted closet space, reasonable rent, and a central location.”
“Let me guess…you were going to gradually wow me with better features like neighbors who don’t play their music loudly and leave their crap in the hallways, and carpet and appliances from this century.”
“You want all that and closet space? Geez, you’re a tough customer,” I snarked.
“I am.” Miles let out a reluctant laugh then sauntered to the bank of windows. “Someday I want to live in a place like this. You have so much natural light. It’s beautiful.”
“Thanks. I like it.”
“The black and white is a bit austere but—” He stopped short and pointed at the funky modern chair in the corner of the room. “What is that?”
I frowned in confusion and stood to see what he was talking about. “It’s a chair.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He shot me a perturbed look then headed toward the side table. “What’s this?”
I met him at the table and groaned when I saw the off-white lace handkerchief. I picked it up and examined the intricate design on the fabric. “This is my parents’ way of reminding me who I am.”
“A doily?”
I chuckled. “No, funny guy. This is from Greece. My mom redecorates my place when she stays here. I have boxes in storage, chock-full of pillows, knickknacks and…lace. Lots of lace. I must have missed this when I packed it all away.”
“Can I see it?”
I handed the lace handkerchief to Miles and eyed him quizzically, wondering what the hell he found so interesting about an ancient, yellowed hanky. He turned it over on his palm and stared at it long enough for me to worry I was about to get treated to an impromptu Miles moment. The last one resulted in unbelievably hot sex, so maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing, I mused. I nudged his elbow and smiled when he started as though he was lost in thought.
“Do you want it?”
Miles gasped dramatically and shook his head. “I couldn’t accept a gift like this. It’s part of your heritage.”
I rolled my eyes and made a face. “No, it’s not. You were right the first time. It’s a doily. A guilt doily. Yeah, it’s from Greece but”—I narrowed my eyes at his sharp intake of breath, then added—“I can get these things by the dozen.”
“From Greece?”
“Sure. I have a ton of family there, and my parents go back a few times a year to visit. Every time they go, my mom returns with lace from the old country, no doubt blessed by the local priest.”
“Wow,” he said in an awestruck tone. “It’s like you’re a member of an exclusive tribe.”
“Or just a big Greek family.” I paced to the other side of the area rug and scratched my head. “Look, Mi…”
“You don’t have to say anything else.” He set the lace on the table but kept his back to me when he spoke. “It was wonderful and amazing but—”
“And there’s no reason we can’t do it again,” I blurted.
Miles squinted at me like he thought I’d lost my proverbial marbles. “Grant…”
“No, listen. Just…give me a second here. Let me figure this out.” I glanced out the window and fixated on the yellow leaves on the amber tree in my neighbor’s backyard while I attempted to come up with a plan.
“What is there to figure out exactly?” Miles prodded.
“Us.” I held up my hand to stop him from interrupting my thought process. I had a feeling I was on to something, but a verbal run-through usually helped me make sense of the quagmire in my brain.
“You’re being weird.”
“I know, but hear me out.” I strode toward him and gestured between us then somewhere in the general vicinity of my bedroom. “That happened for a reason.”
“Yeah, we were horny.”
I let out a beleaguered sigh. “Are you going to take this seriously?”
“People tell me I’m a nut but honey, you worry me. We had sex and it was great, but we’re firmly in the twenty-first century. I don’t expect you to ask me to marry you,” he said sarcastically.
“I know but…I think you should move in with me.”
“What the actual fuck?”
I chuckled at his over-the-top wide-eyed stare and hastened to explain myself. “It would solve a few problems immediately. You need an affordable place in the city, and I happen to have an extra bedroom and bathroom free. I don’t need your money—”
“I am not a freeloader!”
“Fine. You could pay the utilities or something. That’s not important.”
Miles gaped at me for a long moment then crossed the room to his giant tote. He set the bag on his right shoulder and headed for the door. I hurried to his side and yanked his arm. His bag fell, and of course the first thing to spill out was that damn pink boa. He pointed at the pile of pink feathers and then stabbed his fingers into my chest.
“No. I’m not a charity case. I don’t want your sympathy, and I’m not interested in being your booty call. Thanks anyway, Grant. See ya.”
I grabbed his upper arm before he escaped. “Hang on! I don’t feel sorry for you. Why would I?”
“Why else would you suggest such a thing? I have a good job, nice friends, and…I can take care of myself. And on the off-chance you’re looking for someone to take care of you, don’t look at me,” he yelled.
“Hey, calm down. I didn’t mean to insult you. I’m not a quick thinker like you. Just—give me a minute to explain. Please.”
His nostrils flared angrily, but he nodded his acquiescence then bent to retrieve his boa. He draped it over his neck, crossed his arms over his chest, and inclined his chin regally. “Go on.”
“You’ve been in my head for weeks. I can’t shake you loose, Mi. I’ve tried but—I like you, I respect you and…I want you too. I’m not saying anything has to change. I know you’re going through a breakup—”
“Correction. The breakup is past tense. It’s over.”
“Right, but Andy is the reason you jumped in my bed after the party at the winery. He may not be the reason you’re here now, but I doubt it’s because you’re hoping I can fill his shoes.”
Miles rolled his eyes. “Oh, my God. Where are you going with this?”
“What I’m trying to say is…I think we can help each other.”
“By having sex,” he deadpanned.
“Well, that’s not such a bad thing, but if you look at the big picture, it’s just part of it. I have an empty bedroom, and I hate living alone. You need a place.”
“You’re oversimplifying this. My boss is a clos
e friend of yours.”
I threw my hands in the air and nodded emphatically. “Yes! We’d have a built-in reason to see each other. We can tell Eric and whoever else asks that it’s a temporary arrangement. They all know how hard it is to find a decent place around here that doesn’t cost a fortune monthly.”
Miles snorted. “So your friends will think you’re just a good guy. But what about your family?”
“Same thing. They won’t think twice about you being around if we’re roommates. And after I go on a date or two with a couple of eligible Greek guys, they’ll lose interest,” I replied with a shrug.
“Let me get this straight…or try to anyway. You’re proposing a roomies-with-benefits arrangement, but we can go out with whomever we want on the side. Should we set specific days aside, so we don’t end up bringing our gentleman callers back at the same time? You know…like a sex schedule.” Miles set his forefinger on his chin and furrowed his brow as though he was pondering a major equation. “Of course that will make spontaneous hookups and Grindr dates a bit tricky.”
“No, no, no.”
“How is that fair? If you’re getting extracurricular side action, I should too. A lack of communicating ‘booty on the side’ expectations is what led to the demise of my previous alliance.”
“Why are you speaking with a British accent?”
“Am I?” he asked imperiously, tossing an end of the boa over his shoulder.
“You are. And you’re missing the point.”
Miles stomped his foot and glared at me. “You mean the point where you’ve lost your fucking mind? Has anyone ever commented on your convoluted style of thinking?”
“Maybe once or twice,” I admitted with a weak laugh.
“Hmph. Mama always said to beware of handsome men in business suits. They look so inviting on the outside like Forrest Gump’s box of chocolates. Then you take a bite into a raspberry cream and poof! The illusion is gone.” Miles narrowed his eyes then shook his head incredulously. “Can I ask you something?”
“Go for it.”