by Hayes, Lane
I grinned at his animated expression then impulsively pushed a wayward strand of hair behind his ear. “Your mom sounds cool.”
“She’s very cool. You’d like her.”
“Hmm. If you’re out and proud and have your parents’ and friends’ support, why is this a secret collection?”
Miles sighed. “Andy wasn’t a fan, so—”
“Your ex?”
He sat up and tucked his knees under him. “I was too flashy and fabulous for him when we first met. He was a stickler for ‘fitting in,’ and I didn’t fit in at all. But I figured compromise was probably important in a successful relationship, so I toned down me for him. Worst decision ever.” Miles addressed a pretend audience at the foot of the bed in a mock-serious tone. “Kids…if you’re listening out there, don’t do it!”
I chuckled at his game-show host affectation and rubbed his calf absentmindedly. “You’re better off without him.”
“Oh, I know.” Miles waved dismissively as though indicating his ex was the last person on his mind. “I’m much happier, but the real struggle now is remembering who I am. Things have changed in seven years. I’m not the same.”
“So that’s why you’re going through these clothes…to spark a memory?”
He cocked his head and went still. “Yes. But it isn’t going well. I think I’ve figuratively outgrown these things and…it’s kind of sad. Let’s be honest, that shirt looks better on you than it ever did on me, and the thrill of turning heads by wearing shocking shades of pink has gone.”
“What about the boa?”
Miles grinned. “I’ll keep it around for now. You seemed to like it.”
I rolled my eyes. “I like it if you do.”
“Thank you,” he replied dreamily.
We held eye contact for a moment. I couldn’t help admiring the color of his hair and how it complemented his light skin. He was unconventionally lovely. Those full lips and—fuck. I had to pull it together.
“I told Eric you were staying here,” I said to break the growing tension before I gave into it and slipped my hand under his robe.
“Oh? And what did he say?”
“He was surprised. You see him every day. I thought you’d tell him before I had a chance.”
“I didn’t tell him because until this morning, I wasn’t sure I’d actually do this.” He gave me a lopsided smile and shrugged. “This isn’t…easy to explain. Yes, we can justify it a few different ways. I need a place in the city—you have an empty room. Blah, blah, blah. No one needs to know anything more. But they’ll wonder, and just knowing they’ll never figure us out is a turn-on too. Did Eric say anything else?”
“He told me to behave,” I lied.
“Are you going to?”
“I don’t know.”
Miles cast a shit-eating grin at me that made my heart flip and bounce off my rib cage. I swallowed hard and let my gaze travel over the reddish blond hair on his legs to the parted folds on his terry cloth robe. I wanted to slide my hand under the fabric and massage the inside of his thigh before—
“Want to listen to some music?” He twisted sideways and reached for his iPhone and headphones then propped himself on the pillow next to me, so we sat shoulder to shoulder.
“Is this your way of changing the subject?” I asked when he passed me one of his earbuds.
“Yes. I don’t know how to be normal about being here with you so…let’s critique Taylor Swift’s last album, and I’ll tell you which Beyoncé songs are my personal anthems. We can discuss how fucked up we both are another day. Deal?”
“Deal.” I swiped the earbud on my borrowed shirt to give it a quick cleaning then put it in my right ear before the germ factor creeped me out. Then I leaned against his side. “Who’s up first?”
“Taylor,” he replied. “You get to choose the next song.”
“All righty. Let’s do this.”
* * *
We sat together, tethered by Miles’s earbuds for another two hours, discussing music and mulling over hot topics like fashion trends and current events. We didn’t move from our spots. It was as though we recognized the fragility of the connection and were careful not to upset it. I felt almost protective of the aura of innocence surrounding us. The urge to hump and grind against him was offset by an equal desire to know him the way he claimed to know me. When he jumped from his theories about hidden messages in Beyoncé’s “Lemonade” to merits of adding gin with a spritzer for a lovely summertime cocktail, I knew I was in over my head. His exuberant nonsensical dialogue should have been exhausting, but I was enchanted. And the sillier his conversation was, the more I relaxed…and laughed. Regular Oreos or Double Stuf? Thick crust pizza or thin? Lucky Charms or Cap’n Crunch?
I stretched my hands high above my head and let out a faux yawn some time around midnight. I knew that if I didn’t get into my own bed, I’d be tempted to stay in his. So I said good night and shuffled down the hall to the master suite. Then I brushed my teeth, stripped out of my clothes, and fell into bed with a goofy smile on my face.
As per usual, I immediately fell into a deep sleep. I’d had a long week followed by a long Saturday spent worrying that I’d made a major mistake inviting Miles into my home. Going to bed with the feeling I might have won the lottery instead was amazing, and the emotional roller coaster of self-induced stress should have guaranteed a minimum of eight hours uninterrupted rest. But sometime in the middle of the night, my eyes fluttered open.
A faint stream of light filtered across my bed then disappeared. A moment later, the duvet lifted, and a warm body pressed against mine, chasing away the chill that skittered over my skin.
“Miles?”
“Yes. Is this okay? I just want to be next to you,” he whispered.
I hummed in response. Then I pulled him close, spooning him from behind and wrapping my right arm around his waist. I breathed in the scent of his shampoo and mumbled another “good night” before passing out again.
Chapter 8
My cell rang at the ass crack of dawn the next morning, ripping me from an amazing dream featuring Miles naked in my bed and—
“Answer it or turn it off. I’m begging you. Please.”
I jolted up and instinctively reached for my phone, rolling halfway over the man lying beside me in the process. He groaned loudly just as I whispered, “Hello.”
“Who’s that?” my father asked suspiciously.
I sat up a little taller in bed and rubbed my eyes. “Um hi. Why are you calling so early? Are you okay?”
“Of course, I’m okay. It’s ten o’clock. Not so early at all.”
“That means it’s seven here,” I grumbled.
“Who is that?” Miles asked.
I shushed him just as my father asked the same question. It was a testament to how far I’d come over the past fifteen years that I didn’t panic at the idea that my dad might find out there was a man in my bed. I had a feeling the lingering embarrassment would have been part of the equation even if I’d been straight.
“It’s a friend,” I replied vaguely. “Let me call you back later.”
“No. This will only take a moment. Is it the doctor?”
I frowned. “What doctor?”
“Talia said you went to dinner with the doctor and—”
“Oh, my God.” I smacked my palm on my forehead then bent my right knee and rested my elbow on it. “No.”
“Then who is that?”
“A friend,” I repeated firmly.
He hesitated before thankfully moving on. “Talia told me about the renderings. She assumed you’d already informed me, but you didn’t. Why?”
“I wasn’t withholding information. I’ve just had a lot on my mind this week.” I threaded my fingers through Miles’s hair absently as I spoke. “Talia is supposed to meet with him first anyway.”
“Hmph. I heard this artist is a close friend of Stockton’s and there’s more.”
“Like what?”
“I�
�ll let you guess.”
I cast my gaze to the ceiling then flinched when Miles curled himself around me. He nudged his left knee between my legs and reached for my cock. And just like that, he had my full attention. Everything else was static. When my father barked my name, I refocused and cleared my throat.
“He’s Greek,” I guessed.
“Half Greek, but that’s okay. He was excited to hear that Kostas Realty was one of the contenders, and he told Stockton he knew you specifically.” The glee in my dad’s voice was offset with curiosity. “How does this man know you? It isn’t the redhead, is it?”
“Uh…no,” I said as the redhead in question sidled down my chest and knelt between my thighs. “I don’t even know the artist’s name.”
“Find out. Whoever he is, he’s expediting this process and firming up our chances of winning the bid. That’s someone you should know. Never mind Talia meeting him, you’re the one he wants to see. You meet him,” my father commanded in his usual imperialistic tone. “We’ll talk after. Good-bye.”
“Good—oh, fuck.” I disconnected the call and threw my cell in the general direction of my nightstand just as Miles licked my shaft from base to tip.
He stroked me languidly then peered up at me with a mischievous half smile. “Is this okay?”
I nodded. “It’s very good but—”
“Shh. I can fix that. No stress allowed on Sunday mornings. Just relax,” Miles instructed.
He bent his head and sucked the tip of my cock then licked me from base to tip up one side and down the other over and over. I brushed his hair from his forehead and spread my knees to give him room to work and maybe send the message that more was good. Miles hummed in response but took his time, seemingly content to make me crazy.
“Mi…”
He backed off to look at me. “What is it? What do you want?”
There was a challenge in his voice that demanded frank communication. It wasn’t in my nature to vocalize what I wanted during a sexual exchange. It was one thing to assure your partner everything felt amazing, but barking out orders was different. And Miles knew it.
I held his gaze and lifted my hips. “Suck my dick.”
“Can I put my finger inside you too?” he asked huskily. “I want to know what you like.”
“I like everything.”
“Liar. No one likes everything. Be specific,” he insisted. He tightened his grip around my shaft and shortened his stroke.
“Suck me and then…do whatever you want. No more talking. Just do it.” I sat up and grabbed his hair then planted a rough kiss on his lips before pulling him toward my impressive erection.
Miles shivered in response and nodded. Then he lifted his ass in the air and bent to swallow me. He bobbed his head furiously as he worked me over. The sight of his swaying hips combined with the talented suction of his mouth was intoxicating. And when he rolled my balls with his left hand as he reached to jack himself, I knew I wouldn’t last long. His wanton display of lust encouraged me to let go and give in to impulse. To take what I wanted and needed without apology. No room for second thoughts.
I pumped my hips incessantly until a tingling sensation tripped along my spine and threw off my rhythm. I pushed Miles’s forehead in warning. “Mi, I’m close.”
He met my gaze with his swollen lips wrapped around my girth and then released me. I groaned in frustration. He tsked in amusement then stuck two fingers into his mouth and then tapped them against my hole before pushing one inside.
“You can come now,” he purred.
And I did. One minute I was racing for a cliff and the next, I was floating high above the clouds. Waves of pleasure rolled over me as I made my way back to earth.
I licked my lips and ran my hand over Miles’s damp brow, noting the pained expression on his face.
“Come here, baby.”
He knelt up and balanced his weight on my bent leg as he stroked himself with abandon. My spent cock twitched with renewed interest when he gyrated against my thigh in a quest for friction. I circled his waist and kneaded his ass cheeks then laid my head against his stomach and rubbed my scruffy jaw against his shaft. When he quickened his pace, I traced his crack. As I neared his entrance he yanked my head back and pulled my hair. Somewhere in the midst of the sensual haze, I knew he was trying to tell me something, but I reacted before asking and smacked his ass.
“Oh, fuck! Yes!” Miles shook like a leaf as cum spurted over my chest and on my chin.
I held him against me until he slumped weightlessly in my arms then tumbled sideways onto the mattress. I waited for his breathing to return to normal before pulling him into my arms, so his head rested on my chest. As the quiet grew and took on a life of its own, I found myself curiously content to bask in the afterglow. I didn’t want to think or speak or attempt to understand what was happening here. I only knew I was in over my head, and my only hope at clarity was the wild-eyed man at my side.
Very fucking scary.
By unspoken agreement, we didn’t linger in bed. We took separate showers then met in the kitchen fully dressed and ready to begin the day. We walked down my street before turning onto Castro and into the heart of the gayborhood. It was a gray morning with a persistent mist that coated everything with a layer of dew. I shook my head playfully at Miles before opening the door for him at Java Love. He chuckled then pretended to clear his eyes of excess moisture before strutting toward the counter.
“Look at these pastries! I must be in heaven. Oh Gio, we have to get something chocolate or maybe the cinnamon twist. Bear claw! Let’s split the bear claw.” He tapped at the glass then linked his arm in mine and grinned.
God, he was pretty. Those striking blue eyes and that gorgeous hair. I loved the glint of humor in that twinkle and the way the overhead light cast a golden glow over him. He exuded happiness and joy and sunshine and damn, I wanted a piece of that. And I didn’t mind that he called me a name I never used here. I was too charmed to care.
“Gio?” I scoffed.
“Yes. I’ve decided to use your real nickname instead of Ding Dong, HoHo, or Little Debbie. They don’t slip off the tongue easily, and they have a disparaging note that doesn’t fit. Adding a “y” to your name doesn’t sound right either. Granty just sounds weird. And Grantster is what a frat brother might call you.” He gestured manically toward two leather chairs near the front of the store when the previous patrons stood to leave and mouthed the word hurry. “I’ve got this. Do you want a latte or just plain ol’ coffee?”
“Plain ol’ coffee. Thanks.”
I claimed our prime seats and mulled over the last twenty-four hours. My life was boring. I worked, went to the gym, and hung out with friends. Once in a while, I’d meet a guy and embark on an abbreviated romance and insist after it fell apart that we’d only been interested in the sex. Most of the time, that was true. I gravitated toward muscular hunks with questionable IQs who could out-bench press me and maybe even dominate in the bedroom. For a short time, I’d fool myself into thinking I’d met my match, but it rarely took longer than three months to realize my delusional streak was stronger than ever.
But I’d never met anyone like Miles. Or maybe I’d never looked twice because he didn’t fit the mold. He was tall and lean. Toned but not muscular. If he had a gym membership, I’d bet he primarily used it to check out the eye candy. So how did he fit? I didn’t understand why he turned me inside out like no one ever had before.
“Here you go. Coffee and pastries,” Miles announced, handing me a to-go cup.
“Thanks, but I’m fine with just coffee.”
“But you haven’t eaten anything,” he said, furrowing his brow.
“I’ll make egg whites later. Coffee is all I need.” When he stared at me like an odd life form from another planet, I gave in and added, “I don’t eat many sweets. Or I try not to.”
“That’s…” He scrunched his nose in distaste before settling on, “Odd.”
I chuckled softly and cradled
the cup for extra warmth. “You said you already knew that about me.”
“True, but you ate the tiramisu at the winery, and I can’t remember if you ate a cupcake, but it seems like something I should have noticed.”
“Don’t take it so hard, man. It’s not like I’m allergic to sugar. I just limit my intake to as close to zero as possible.”
“Why?”
“I had serious weight issues when I was a kid, and they spiraled out of control in my teen years. Too much sugar hurts my stomach now.”
“How did you lose weight?” he asked, crossing his legs and then sipping his drink.
“I got sick.” It was a vague reply at best. “The flu.”
“Oh, that’s terrible. It must have been a whopper if you lost that much weight though. Were you hospitalized?” I should have known Miles wouldn’t let it go. For the gazillionth time in my life, I wished I were a fast thinker.
“Something like that.”
“What happened?”
“I had an eating disorder, Mi. Bulimia.”
The coffee shop wasn’t overly crowded or particularly noisy, but I could have sworn an eerie quiet fell for a moment, reminiscent of the way passersby view a car wreck. With pity and perhaps relief that it wasn’t them lying on the ground with their guts exposed. Okay, maybe that was dramatic, but I hated talking about that time in my life. The mere mention of the B-word made my skin crawl and now that I’d said it aloud, I wasn’t sure how to get away from it. Fuck, I should have kept my mouth closed.
I glanced at Miles and braced myself for the barrage of questions. He looked mildly surprised but thoughtful too. No doubt he was wondering if that bit of info was the missing link, I mused as I sipped my coffee.
“You don’t want to talk about it, do you?” Miles stated.