by Enders, KC
I love that she’s finally comfortable with giving me shit.
“Is Jake showering? How’d you swing that?”
We work side by side, me putting her purchases away while Chloe pulls a hunk of meat, potatoes, and some other veggies aside.
“Told him he stunk after he was done mowing. Look, I don’t know if I overstepped, but, uh … I took him to the drugstore and got him some deodorant and body wash. He needs it; it’s absolutely time.”
Chloe stiffens for a second and then cringes adorably. “I’ve been meaning to do that, but …”
She works some culinary magic, filling the air with the rich smell of meat cooking. It’s a tease. One that promises an amazing experience later, but for now, my stomach growls loudly. Chloe hands me a piled-high turkey sandwich from the store’s deli department and then turns back to prepping the vegetables.
“But what?”
Her head tilts one way and then the other as she works. “I didn’t know how to go about it, if you can believe that. I always figured Dallas would take care of that kind of thing, you know?” She talks about him so easily. I envy that ease. “Did he ask any questions? About, uh … sex?”
Much as I want to give her shit about whispering the word sex, I’m kind of glad she did. Because Jake comes flying into the kitchen, clad only in athletic shorts, water droplets beading on his bony shoulders.
“Mom, Miles got me deodorant to tame my man smell, and look!” He hoists his arm in the air. “Do you see it? I have pit hair, Mom. Pit. Hair. You gotta look close. See it?” He proudly sidles closer to Chloe.
“Wow,” Chloe says with as much enthusiasm as she can muster. “That’s … wow.”
He drops his arm and digs through the bag still on the counter, coming out with a smaller turkey sandwich. “I only have it on that side. The other pit is still naked.”
Chloe turns, leaning against the counter. She stares intently in the direction that Jake disappeared. Time passes. Too much time, and nerves crawl up my spine. I’ve faced down shit on missions that didn’t rattle me, seen things that have haunted me for many nights after. But overstepping with this family—upsetting Chloe—scares the shit out of me.
Finally, her head bounces in a series of small nods.
I set my sandwich aside. “Are you okay?”
I want to wrap her up in my arms and tell her it’s all good, that this is part of watching her son grow up. She’s the one with over a decade of parenting experience though. I barely even made it to the starting line of that race.
“I am, but … wow. Mowing the lawn. Pit hair. Man smell? I feel like life happened, and I missed it while grocery shopping.”
She leans into me like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and I wrap her up, holding her close.
“Do you want me to talk to him? About girls and shit?” I offer, inhaling the scent of her shampoo.
“That’s asking a lot of you. It probably goes above and beyond.”
“But,” I prompt, loving the way she doesn’t want to do it herself but can’t seem to come out and ask me to do it.
Chloe shifts, leaning back so she can look me in the eyes. “I would be forever grateful, not to have to talk to my son about erections and vaginas and—God help me—masturbation. But that’s a big deal. I can see if Jack or one of my brothers …” Concern pinches at the corners of her eyes.
“It’s up to you, but I’m here. Jake and I spend time together. I feel like we have a pretty good relationship going.”
“Yeah, you do. He likes you, Miles, looks up to you,” she says softly, the weight of her words held up for me.
I nod and kiss her, grateful to be included in her family. This is a heavy dose of trust and one that I will happily bear. But when I deepen the kiss and she starts to giggle, I have to pull back. “What?”
“Man smell? Really?”
Chapter Fifteen
Chloe
“You want me to watch what?” Miles asks. He looks shocked, almost offended by my suggestion.
“Pride & Prejudice.” I hand him a bowl of popcorn and pull a blanket from the big basket I have next to the couch.
Miles tosses a handful of popcorn in his mouth and stares at me like this is some kind of a joke and he’s just waiting for the punch line. There’s no punch line. I am dead serious.
“So, what about John Wick? We Are Marshall? Gladiator? Man of Steel? You can’t go wrong with Superman.”
He smirks as he leans forward to pick up the remote, but I snatch it from the table and flop onto the couch next to him.
“Nope. You said I could pick this one after you and Jake made me sit through freaking Star Wars. And I did. Two hours of my life I’ll never get back.” I toss the pale blue wool blanket over my legs, bunching it up in my lap. I take the popcorn bowl from Miles’s hands and wedge it into place between us. “This movie is so beautiful, I promise. And the time investment will be absolutely worth it.” I truly love this movie and particularly this version of it.
Miles groans and sighs through the beginning of the movie, obviously not connecting with the characters and the subtleties of their interactions. “Jesus Christ, what is wrong with these people? Bingley’s a twit and needs his ass kicked. Lizzy’s mother is a manipulative bitch, and what crawled up Darcy’s ass?”
When the popcorn is finished, Miles moves the bowl over to the end table and drains his beer. He sets the bottle into the empty popcorn bowl, and I swear on all that is good at holy, if he hadn’t been complaining so loudly through the start of the movie, slamming the characters at every turn, I would’ve thought his timing was planned down to the wire. But he has complained. He’s railed and scoffed the entire time. So, when Miles slouches back into the couch, throws his head back against the cushion, and spreads the fingers of his hand wide, just as Darcy does on-screen, my insides melt. My muscles clench, and desire pools low in my belly.
That scene. That seemingly insignificant action that, in reality, hints at a huge turning point in the story. That right there is what pushes me over the edge. I shove the blanket off my feet and turn to face Miles.
“What?” he asks. And then his strong, beautiful hand flexes again. His eyes dart to the TV and then back to me. He searches my face and asks, “Did I miss something?”
I push up onto my knees and kiss him. He kisses me back, and then he moves his arm around me so that hand is flexing against my hip. Whatever nerves I was harboring, whatever doubts I had about whether this was the right thing to do—the right time—ignite in my burning desire for him. I slide my leg across his lap until I’m straddling him. My legs are spread wide across his massive thighs.
The movie forgotten behind me, I push my fingers through his short, dark hair, gripping his head, taking control and kissing him like my life depends on it. I rock my hips, feeling him harden beneath me.
He slides his hands up my back, pushing my shirt higher until it’s bunched up underneath my boobs. Miles pulls away just enough to pull my shirt over my head, leaving me exposed and grinding against him in nothing but thin cotton leggings and my bra.
“Stop, Miles. Stop,” I whisper on an exhale.
A pained groan rumbles in the back of his throat as he continues to kiss and lick at my lips. “Why? This movie was finally getting interesting.”
On wobbly legs, I stand from the couch and bend over him to grab my shirt from where it landed, hanging over the back cushion.
“God, yes,” he mumbles as he pulls me back down to him, burying his face in my cleavage.
A giggle bubbles out of me as his beard tickles my sensitive chest. It turns into a moan as his tongue darts out, and he licks and sucks at first one breast and then the other.
“You have the most beautiful”—kiss—“amazing”—suck—“biteable tits I’ve ever seen.” He clamps his teeth down on my nipple, through the lace of my bra, and I just about explode.
“No,” I moan. “We can’t.” I force myself to pull away from his touch even though every cel
l in my body is screaming to get closer.
“Chloe, baby, you’re killing me,” he groans, reaching into his shorts to adjust his cock.
I take a step back, tugging at his free hand until he stands. I hit the remote, turning the TV off and plunging the room into darkness. I pull him with me as I walk backward toward the stairs.
“Not here. Not where Jake might walk through,” I say, clearing the confusion from Miles’s face. “Upstairs. Please,” I beg.
Miles pauses at the base of the stairs but only long enough to scoop me up and wrap my legs around his waist. Without making even the slightest of noises, he carries me up the stairs and down the hall to my bedroom. He closes the door behind him, silently flipping the lock. At the edge of my bed, his grip releases, so I slide down his body, feeling every glorious inch of him all along my descent.
He stares into my eyes, my face cradled between his calloused hands. “You’re sure? You’re ready for this?” His concern for me, the way he treats me as though I’m delicate, something to be treasured, is one of the sexiest things about him.
“Shut up and kiss me.”
In the space of a heartbeat, Miles goes from restrained to almost frenzied. Kissing me as he flicks open my bra and tosses it to the floor. His tongue laves a lazy trail between my breasts and down my stomach, dipping into my belly button.
I gasp and squirm as goose bumps pebble my skin.
I giggle and then moan as he curls his fingers into the waistband of my leggings, pulling them and my panties down my legs as he drops to his knees. He kisses the stretch marks that stripe my abdomen. Nips at each of my hip bones and buries his face in my pussy.
I sway and wobble as he pushes my feet apart, granting him access to the most intimate part of me. The place that only one other man has ever known. And as much as I thought sharing that part of me would be hard to do, it’s absolutely not.
In fact, the only thought in my mind is, More, more, more.
Miles licks and sucks, teasing me with a featherlight touch as his hands roam over my ass and caress my thighs.
“Lie down,” he grunts, gently pushing me until I’m cradled in the cloud of my duvet.
He throws one of my legs over his shoulder and worships me with his tongue and hands until my legs start to tremble and an orgasm screams through me, leaving me gasping for breath.
“One,” Miles murmurs, crawling up me.
He nuzzles my neck and slides his arm under me, and much the way he’s done in the past, he manipulates my body, pulling me up the bed as he moves. He sheds his shorts, pushing them to the side.
Our lips press together, hungry for more. Consuming until Miles pulls away, fumbling for his wallet. Finally, he puts the foil wrapper to his mouth and rips open the condom. With both of us protected, he settles his hips between my thighs and cradles my head in the palm of his hand.
Slowly, almost torturously slow, he enters me. Rocking gently, bit by bit, until I’m completely and blissfully filled. Miles pauses, fully seated, and hangs his head, each panting exhale blowing a measured puff of breath across my chest.
“Need a second.” He forces the words out, almost as if he’s in pain.
Unable to hold still, need driving me, I start to rock my hips, pulling a low groan from him. I feel the groan rumble through my chest, his thighs trembling where they’re wedged up against the backs of my legs. And then he moves. Filling me, caressing me, kissing me breathless until the pressure builds, spilling over as he swells and pulses in glorious and blissful release.
He covers my mouth with his, swallowing my moan. Hungry kisses calm to lazy caresses of his lips trailing down my jaw and to my neck, where he sucks and nips and soothes.
He holds his weight up, careful not to crush me as I drift back to reality. He places a tender kiss high on my cheek, his lips brushing against my lashes. “Be right back.” He rolls away from me and pads to the bathroom, disposing of the condom and washing his hands.
Miles slips back between the sheets, pulling me tight against him. Apparently not close enough though because, after a minute, he rolls to his side, wrapping himself around me. His chest is warm against my back, his arm tucked up under my breasts with his hand gripping my shoulder.
I couldn’t feel safer, more contained, more cherished than I do right now.
“Thank you.” He presses his face into my hair, rubbing his nose along my scalp as I try desperately to prevent a tear from slipping.
I hold my breath, afraid any movement will send it tumbling down my cheek. The warm drop plummets from the tip of my nose, landing on the back of his hand with an earth-shattering plop.
“Hey,” Miles says gently, rolling me to my back. “What’s wrong?” Concern laces his words, paints his features, and wraps its way around me. His thumb slides along my cheek, catching another tear as it follows the path already laid out before it. “Chloe, tell me what I’ve done.”
He takes my tears to heart, blaming himself for them without even knowing what’s behind them.
“Nothing. I just …”
“Don’t shut down. Don’t close me out. Did I do something? Push this? Jesus, I thought you were ready, but I … I didn’t ask. I just assumed and—”
“No, Miles, no. It’s just … I don’t know. I waited, maybe far too long. Maybe I put too much pressure on myself, and now, it’s spilling out in tears. This is …” I pause, rolling my lips between my teeth. There is no good way to bring up another man when I’m lying in Miles’s arms. Not when he’s just made me feel things I didn’t know I was capable of feeling with anyone other than Dallas. “This is the first time since …” I stall again, certain that nothing good will come of this. “There’s only been one other man in my life. I … I’m just overwhelmed maybe. Processing. I don’t know. Maybe it’s just a lifetime of emotion squeezed into the drop of a tear.”
His dark brown eyes reflect the scant light filtering through the window blinds. And instead of seeing judgment or even fear at what I just admitted—that this is a big step for me—all I see is reverence. He slides his hand around the back of my neck, cradling my chin with his thumb.
“Oh, Chloe. I don’t know if it’s the right thing to say, but I am truly honored. Honored to be the man you chose to share yourself with. Honored that you think I’m worthy of you.”
“I don’t want this though—the emotion, the tears.” I swipe at my cheeks, frustrated and embarrassed. I’m stronger than this. I’m not a crier, not really. Not unless it’s over something significant, something life-changing. And the thought of this falling into that category scares me and thrills me at the same time. “I’m supposed to be happy, swooning over you”—I laugh—“and I am; don’t get me wrong. I’m all kinds of swooning. I just didn’t expect it with a side of tears. I think I’m broken.”
“You’re not the broken one, Chloe. You can’t be. Not when all you’ve done is put my useless heart back together.”
Chapter Sixteen
Miles
I drag myself from Chloe’s bed minutes before my alarm sounds. God knows, I don’t want to. But I promised her I would leave before Jake woke up. After using her bathroom, I rummage around on her floor, pulling my clothes on as I find them, folding hers and setting them on the edge of her dresser.
There’s no way I can leave without pressing my lips to hers, not after tasting her. Not after sleeping better than I had in far longer than I want to admit. Dropping to my knees at the side of her bed, I push the curly black mop from her face. The silk-like strands sifting through my fingers.
Chloe wrinkles her nose and purses her lips, settling them into a beautiful pout, one that she would wipe away if she were awake. One that would hover there on the edge of her mouth for a heartbeat until she replaced it with a smile.
I lean forward and feather my lips against hers. More than anything, I want to wake her, and yet I don’t. My flight to California leaves at noon, and the pile of work on my desk is higher than I want to admit.
So, I sn
eak out of Chloe’s bedroom, out of her house, and into the dark, silent morning.
It’s not until I’m sitting behind Maggie’s wheel, my key in the ignition, poised to crank the engine over that I realize there’s no way I can pull this off. Maggie’s been better since Liam gave her a look, but no way in hell is she reliable yet to get me out of here without drawing attention. I release the clutch and put my back into her. Legs pumping, glutes screaming, I push with everything I have until we’re at the end of the block. It might seem like overkill, but when I jump in and crank the engine, the rumble echoes down the quiet street. I was right to take precautions. Hell, I probably would have been better off pushing her the four blocks to my apartment. At least I’d have gotten a workout in.
Thirty minutes later, showered and at my desk, I check into my flight. I should have done it yesterday, but there were more important things to do. Enough time and more than enough energy have gone to Aly. She’s taken far more from me than she had a right to.
I clear my head and focus on what’s right in front of me. There’s no use in getting ahead of myself and borrowing trouble.
“What time did you get in this morning?”
Natalie pulls me from the file I’ve been picking apart. The preliminary breakdown I did on Africa, of course, revealed more issues that need to be addressed in order to move forward.
I glance at the top right of my computer screen and rub my fingertips across my eyes, clearing the fog. “Five, I think.” Is that right?
The two hours I’ve spent trying to get ahead this morning have managed to put me further behind with all the shit I’ve uncovered.
“Jesus, Miles, cut yourself some slack. Don’t you leave for San Diego this morning?” The smell of coffee fills the air as Natalie tips her travel mug to her lips. “We can move things around, put some other people on this project. You don’t have to do it all.”
But she’s wrong. I do. The compulsion to finish the appraisal, to make sure the assessment is correct and complete—the level of detail exhaustive—is ramped up because of the other fire on my horizon. It’s unacceptable to miss even the smallest detail.
