by Duffy, Aimée
“Have you lived here long?” Anna asked as Miles handed her a glass of champagne. Her stomach quivered with nervous excitement, but her curiosity was getting the better of her.
He sank down beside her on the sofa. “A few years.”
Anna waited for him to elaborate, but he stayed silent. She had thought about him every day over the last few weeks and had almost hunted him down on EconEkt to give him a groveling apology for doubting his intentions. The only thing that held her back was the fact that he was so far out of her league it wasn’t even funny.
After tonight though, when she saw him watch her perform, she felt a flare of arousal skitter up her spine. His eyes, usually so bright and wide, were dark and heavy lidded. He looked at her like she expected a starving man would look at his first meal in days before devouring it. The thought of being devoured—by him anyway—filled her with nervous excitement.
So, when he offered the chance to spend some time with him, she’d been more than eager to. She missed the time they’d spent together, the way her whole body lit up like a bonfire when she was close to him, and most of all, she missed his smiles.
“Is this where you lived with your wife?” Anna asked and immediately regretted it. That was so not her business. No matter that she’d been thinking of nothing else other than the grief he still suffered over his wife’s death for weeks.
Miles turned to her and she swore the light in his eyes died.
“I’m sorry, Miles, that’s none of my business.” It was times like this, when she royally put her foot in it, that she wished she could turn back time.
He forced a painful looking smile onto his face, but the light was still gone. “It’s okay. No, I bought this place after she died.”
His voice was laced with pain and his anguish became hers. She cared about him, that much she already knew, but this felt like more somehow. “Do you want to talk about what happened?” Anna asked, trying to encourage him to open up. She never experienced anything near his level of grief, but surely having someone to offload some of the pain onto would help.
He hesitated, his whole body stiffening for the briefest second before he closed his eyes and sucked in a deep, haggard breath. “I’ve never told anyone,” he began and focused his attention on the champagne flute in his trembling hand.
Pain slashed her heart and she grabbed his free hand to offer support.
He entwined his fingers with hers. “I met Cassie ten years ago. She was nineteen and amazingly talented. I offered her a record deal and we worked together to shoot her career sky high.”
He paused, taking a gulp of champagne. Anna had a horrible feeling that the full story of Cassie’s death wasn’t going to be a story she’d particularly want to hear. Yes, she wanted to help him, but hearing about someone he loved was going to be hard. Still, she squeezed his hand, encouraging him to go on. Her feelings weren’t important right now.
“We married three years later. The press gave her a hard time about her figure and criticized everything she did. I didn’t see how much it was affecting her until she started losing too much weight. I told her she was perfect the way she was and not to pay attention to the tabloids. Cassie insisted she didn’t care what they said. On her last tour, I had to stay in London. Business was booming and the company was small back then. When she got back, she’d changed completely. She’d go out every night and sleep most of the day. I’d go with her on the weekends, but I always felt I was holding her back. I never thought drugs were a possibility.”
He looked back to Anna and met her gaze with tortured eyes. Again, the slash of pain whipped across her heart, stealing her breath. “You don’t have to tell me the rest if you don’t want to. I’ll understand.” She had a feeling she knew anyway. Cassie died long before her time and the pressure of being in the spotlight drove her to it.
“I do want to, Annabelle. I just can’t stand it if you end up hating me as much as I hate myself.” His voice was no more than a whisper.
“I won’t hate you, Miles. It wasn’t your fault,” she assured him.
He looked away again, back to his glass. “You’re wrong. It was my fault. If I paid better attention, if I didn’t give her that deal, she wouldn’t have died at twenty-four from a drug overdose.”
Anna watched his tense, shaking frame in disbelief. He really believed that it was his fault that his wife died. She was frozen in bewilderment and couldn’t manage to speak even if she’d tried.
How could he think that? It was Cassie’s choice to lose weight. It was also her choice to party all night and take drugs. Not Miles’s. He turned to look at her and she could see the fear in his expression. How could she convince him not to blame himself?
At a loss for words, Anna did the only thing she could think of in this surreal moment and kissed him, full on the mouth and none too gently. His lips were rigid beneath hers, as were his shoulders.
Her tongue traced his lower lip and he relaxed, kissing her back. Heat swept through her from her head right down to her toes, burning hotter at the rigid peaks of her nipples and the valley between her thighs. All she wanted was to throw her arms around him and pull herself as close to that lithe swimmer’s body as she could.
She groaned as she remembered the champagne glass in her hand and broke away from him. When he opened his eyes half mast, the sparkle was back, but so was something else. A deep, ravishing hunger was barely concealed in his dark green depths. Anna’s whole body quivered with need.
Passion and someone to care for him were what he needed and she was only happy to oblige, because in that moment, she needed it too. After placing the champagne flutes on the table she leaned over to kiss him again.
“Wait,” he said against her lips.
She didn’t want to wait. She’d waited her whole life for this. Waited all this time for a man who she wanted with this much intensity. In truth, she didn’t think she’d ever imagined anything quite like this.
“No,” she breathed into his open mouth.
His groan of surrender sent a shiver of undiluted need through her. Strong fingers threaded into her hair, raising goosebumps all over her skin. Anna snaked her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.
His tongue slid over hers in sensual sweeps as his hands caressed her scalp. Anna’s whole body felt like one big throbbing pulse point. Again, her privates were on fire and she pulled herself against his chest, trying to ease the tension in her aching nipples. It was no use, the material of their clothes only increased her frustration. She wriggled closer, still unsatisfied with her proximity, and he chuckled against her mouth.
“Are you okay?” he asked breathlessly, and she could see a teasing gleam in his hungry eyes.
She felt her lips curve and, feeling more than a little dazed, she answered, “No. You’re torturing me.” His answering laugh sent a little jolt of happiness into her heart. Gone was the grief and guilt, replaced with a happy, hungry man.
Miles slid his arms around her waist and rose from the sofa, lifting her off the ground completely. She banded her legs around his narrow waist and held his shoulders for support. His hunger was obvious now from the ridge pressed against the center of her need. Everything inside her went molten.
He kissed her again, a light brushing of her lips, and she frowned in disappointment.
“Annabelle, is this what you want?”
The fact that he had to ask, when she was wrapped around him tighter than a roll of cling film, gave her heart another jolt.
“Yes, Miles. It’s what I want.”
His lips molded to hers and she closed her eyes, relishing in the tingling sensations his mouth roused.
She barely noticed when he began to walk, focused more on his tongue dancing sensually with hers and the broad strength of his shoulders. After breaking the kiss, he laid Anna on the bed, kicked his shoes off, and then joined her.
The room was dark, illuminated by the soft moonlight shining in from the window. She couldn’t see much else other than the
dark sheets, Miles, and his glorious chest—now that he’d removed his t-shirt.
He reached over and pulled her up to her knees, his lips crushing down on hers as Anna explored the hard planes of his chest. His lean muscles bunched beneath her tingling fingers, and she ran one hand across the light scattering of hair leading down to the waistband of his trousers.
He sucked in a breath when her hand froze at the belt buckle and anxiety crept in. She had no idea what she was doing or how to do it. Would she disappoint him? She looked up into his eyes, terrified now that he’d push her away for her inexperience.
Miles didn’t look disappointed. He looked…tense. Like he was holding back, waiting for her to give him permission to go on. His uncertainty gave her the confidence she so desperately needed. Feeling empowered, she pulled the hem of her top and yanked it over her head. His gaze dropped to her white lace bra, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.
Before she could unhook her bra, his control snapped and he had her on her back, his whole body on top of her. She released a gasp of surprise. His lips were on her neck as he deftly removed her bra. The minute his fingers found her nipples, Anna made a desperate, needy sound she never knew she was capable of. She groped greedily at the velvet skin of his back and his head lowered to her heavy breasts.
A flick of his tongue over one tight bud had damp heat flowing between her thighs. As he drew the nipple into his mouth, she arched into him and tangled her fingers through his hair. The sensations he was rousing were far more than she’d imagined in her x-rated daydreams. Every touch, every sweep of his fingers against her skin caused her to go into a hyperactive state.
Miles lapped each nipple thoroughly, turning the fire inside her into an inferno. Without thinking, she ground her hips against him, needing to be touched there, right where she throbbed the most.
Miles seemed to be in with the program because he unfastened her jeans and slid them off—right along with her knickers. Never before had she been so exposed to anyone, nor had she ever wanted to relinquish all her control to a man, but right now, she wanted it badly. So badly she thought she might explode if she didn’t have it.
He paused above her, his gaze raking the length of her body. “God, Annabelle, you’re beautiful.”
A lump formed in her throat and tears blurred her vision. No one had ever called her beautiful before. The words touched something inside her she never knew existed and warmed her chest with a different kind of heat.
His tongue delved into the curls at her core before she could analyze what these new feelings were. Anna’s mind went blank. Ripples of pleasure vibrated from where his skilled tongue caressed and she lost composure completely. She dug her fingers into his hair again and arched her hips toward him in desperate, needy motions. She’d have thought she’d be embarrassed by her behavior, but all she cared about was the building fire, scorching her body from the inside, seeking its release.
Another expert swirl of his tongue and she burst into euphoric ripples of pleasure driving through her whole body. In the distance, she could hear a shattered cry, but she was too lost in the sensations to pay much attention. Stars burst right in front of her eyes.
Anna closed her eyes, relishing in the delicious sensation of bliss, surrounded in his musky scent and the warm glow in her chest. She must have died and gone to heaven.
* * * *
Miles had never seen a woman come apart with such wild abandon. He found it turned him on impossibly. He gazed down at the huge smile spread across Annabelle’s face and fought the urge to chuckle. She was so beautiful, even more now that her cheeks were flushed pink and that euphoric smile lit her face up like some bedraggled angel of purity.
He kissed her eyelids softly. “You’re not falling asleep on me, are you?” he teased, trying like a bear to hold onto the desire to bury himself deep inside her. He’d seen the vulnerable look in her eyes when they had first arrived in the bedroom and didn’t want to push her.
“Mmm. Depends on whether I can get more of that.”
He did chuckle this time, a strained, tense laugh. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Lowering his lips to hers, he plundered her mouth, drowning in the sweet taste of her. Desire burned through his veins, almost searing with its intensity. He’d promised her more and didn’t want to disappoint, so he delved his fingers into the valley between her thighs and stroked the silky, swollen nub.
Annabelle moaned into his mouth and he shuddered, temporarily distracted. Again her hips thrust and her thighs tensed. He became aware of his erection throbbing against her stomach and suddenly panic washed over him like a bucket of icy water.
What if he did disappoint her? Sure, he was harder than a steel girder now, but what if it didn’t last? Wouldn’t be the first time…
He tried to concentrate on her imminent release, the smell of flowers that drove his senses wild, and the almost desperate way she was wriggling around against his thigh. But it was no use, as her body convulsed and his mouth swallowed her scream of release, panic clawed up his throat and his erection swiftly dissolved.
Shame washed through him like a tidal wave and he broke the kiss, needing to get away from the look of disappointment he was sure to see in those jeweled eyes. They were closed now and the smile was back on her face, but it wasn’t enough. He’d failed her already.
“Make love to me, Miles,” she whispered, still not meeting his gaze.
After cursing himself internally, he jumped off the bed and left the room. Anger and self-hatred tore him apart, and he paced through to the hall. The urge to hit something—preferably himself—was overpowering.
“Miles.”
He turned to see Annabelle standing in the doorway to his bedroom. Her mahogany curls wild and her cheeks flushed, wrapped in one of the dark blue sheets from his bed. Her eyes were huge and sparkled with unshed tears. He felt more humiliated in that moment than he ever had in all his life.
“Don’t.” He turned away again, but heard Annabelle’s soft footsteps on the wooden floor behind him.
“Miles, what’s wrong?”
Without turning, he ground out, “You should leave, Annabelle. I’m useless, I can’t do anything right, never mind pleasure you.” He started to walk away, frustration and humiliation cutting him deeper.
She skirted around him, blocking his path. Her chin tilted and her brows furrowed with annoyance. Good, she should be annoyed. He wished like hell she didn’t have to be though.
“Do you want me to leave?” she asked levelly, her face smoothing out.
What could he say? ‘No, Annabelle I don’t want you to go, I want to be able to make love to you all night long and keep you here for as long as I can, except I can’t, because I’m not enough of a man to manage it.’
Instead he closed his eyes and touched his forehead to hers.
“Right, I’m not going anywhere then.” She stepped away from him and he looked at her, shame still burning through him. “You are not useless, Miles Oliver. You are kind and caring and have given me more pleasure than I’ve ever experienced. Don’t dare think you can’t! You already have.” Again, her brows were creased with annoyance, but now he understood. She was annoyed because he doubted himself.
She wrapped her arms around his torso and he reveled in her warmth and floral scent. After a moment, he relaxed and the anger washed away, right along with the shame. He encircled her in his arms and pulled her closer.
“See, you’re not useless. You’re pleasing me now,” she said, and he pulled his head back to look at her. Her eyes were sincere and he felt like an idiot. It was doubt that had been holding him back, not a malfunctioning of his manhood—which was now jumping back to attention. Annabelle smiled wryly. “Do I have to ask you again?” Her eyes flickered to the bedroom door and Miles grinned.
“No, it would be rude to make you ask twice.” He threw her over his shoulder—bedsheets and all—carried her back to the bedroom, and lowered her onto the bed. This time, he removed his trou
sers and boxers before he pulled a condom out of the drawer and joined her.
She watched with huge eyes as he sheathed himself, and pride swelled in his chest. It was crazy that she still wanted him, but he wasn’t going to complain—or give her a chance to change her mind. Rolling her over, he settled between her thighs and brushed his lips against hers.
Annabelle lifted her hips, allowing him better entry, and the last of the tension and worry drained out of him as he saw heat darken her sparkly eyes. This felt so right that the panic was long forgotten. He positioned himself at her entrance and slowly glided in.
Her inner muscles fisted around him like a glove and he had to retreat slightly before he thrust forward another few inches. She cried out in pain, and he retreated immediately. She couldn’t be a virgin, could she? Her face was twisted into a grimace and he moved back to look at her better.
The dark spots of blood on the sheet confirmed his suspicions and Miles’s mind froze for a second. “Annabelle, why didn’t you tell me?”
She winced. “I didn’t think it was important.”
Pain sliced through him. It was definitely important, to him at least.
* * * *
Why would Anna tell him something like that? Obviously, if she knew it was going to be so painful she would have been better prepared to hide her reaction. The fact that she was a twenty-four year old virgin was hardly something she was willing to boast about.
He shifted to lie beside her on the bed, turning to study her with furrowed brows. “You should have told me. I could have made it…better.”
Now she was the one frowning. Did that mean he was giving up? “Miles, you said you wouldn’t make me ask you twice.”
Closing his eyes, he murmured a curse under his breath. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Again the warm feeling exploded in her chest at his words. “You won’t. Please, Miles.” She scooted closer, her straining nipples scorching as they rubbed against his chest. “Don’t make me ask again.”
His lips met hers with a groan and she felt the sweet victory of his surrender. His hands slid over her skin, fanning the flames of arousal as his mouth caressed hers. Every stroke, every kiss, made her feel cherished and cared for. He was introducing her to how good life could be and she was lapping up every second of it.
