The Maybe Series

by Ella Miles

  “You are.”

  I just nod. I don’t know if he means, I’m running from something, missing my father, or both.

  “What about you? What do you do?”

  “I thought we weren’t going to talk specifics.”

  “No. I’m not going to tell you about me. The more you know, the more it’s likely that you will get attached.”

  God, why am I here when this man keeps insulting me? I frown. “I won’t get attached.”

  “No?” He raises his eyebrows.

  He’s probably right. If I fall for this man, it will only give me more of a reason to run from whomever my father and grandfather have chosen for me.

  “Fine.” I sigh. “But I don’t want to tell you about me either.”

  If I don’t get to know anything about this man, he doesn’t get to know anything about me.

  He nods and takes a slow sip of his drink.

  “When are we going to…” my voice says shakily.

  “Fuck?” he says, finishing my sentence.

  Wine slips from my mouth at how easily the word rolled off his tongue. He probably says fuck daily. He probably fucks daily. I’m never going to live up to the girls he’s had before. I try to push that thought out of my head. He chose me, for whatever reason. And he doesn’t have to know how inexperienced I am.

  “Come here,” he says, motioning for me to come to him.

  I place my glass on the coffee table and walk to him. When I reach him, he remains seated. So, I stand awkwardly in front of him. I fidget with my hands, not sure what he wants me to do.

  Killian chuckles a raspy deep chuckle, like he hasn’t used his voice to laugh in a long time. His hand grabs my wrist, and he pulls me hard onto his lap.

  He strokes my cheek. “Don’t think, princess.”

  I try to listen to his words. I try not to think as his mouth kisses down my neck, leaving warm, wet tingles. I can’t help the tears that begin welling in my eyes. Of all the terms of endearment he could have chosen to use, I can’t believe he chose the one that reminds me of my father, the one nickname my father always used to call me.

  When he sees my tears, he softly kisses them with his lips before licking up the salty liquid with his tongue.

  “What’s wrong, princess? We don’t have to do this.” He tucks my hair back behind my ear before his hand softly rubs my back. “I just thought you might need it.”

  “Why did you call me princess?”

  He smiles weakly at me. “Because you are one.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re beautiful.” He softly kisses my hand. “You’re intelligent.” He kisses my other hand. “You’re used to being taken care of.” He softly kisses me on the cheek. “You’re a little too sweet and naive.” He kisses the other cheek. “Your clothes are simple yet expensive.” His kiss brushes softly on my lips. “You should be worshipped.” He runs a hand through my hair. “You’re a princess in every sense of the word.”

  I smile at how intuitive he is. He’s picked up a lot about me in the short amount of time we have been together.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “Okay, you can call me princess.”

  He wipes tears that are still visible on my cheeks. “It’s going to be okay, princess.”

  I suck in a breath as he grabs the nape of my neck and kisses me hard on the lips. I moan as his tongue massages mine. His kisses are deep and intense. His kisses are full of purpose.

  I hold on to his neck as he kisses me. I’m too unsure of what to do with my hands to do much else even though my hands are tingling to rip off his jacket and buttoned-down shirt to see what lies beneath them.

  Instead, he lifts me and carries me to a room with a lavish bed covered in throw pillows. I land softly among the pillows. I watch as he removes his jacket and carefully places it over the back of a chair in the corner of the room. He removes his tie before he unbuttons the top couple of buttons of his shirt.

  I watch as he climbs over me, but his body doesn’t touch mine. My heart pounds erratically in my chest as I stare up at the beautiful man above me. I squeeze my hands into fists to prevent myself from running my hands all over his body.

  He squints his eyes at me before he takes my hand and presses it against his chest. “You can touch.” He smirks at me.

  Killian leans down and kisses me again, hard. It’s so hard that he sucks all the air from my chest. His hand slides up my shirt, massaging the exposed skin of my stomach. His eyes open occasionally to study my reaction when he takes everything a step further, but he doesn’t slow down or hesitate. The intensity of his stare is there every time he opens his eyes.

  I let my hand slip into the opening of his shirt to feel his hard chest, but I don’t let my hands explore beyond that. His hand mimics mine, except his moves with more confidence and surety. I gasp when his hand expertly finds my nipple beneath my shirt. He slowly rubs the peak between his thumb and finger.

  “Don’t think, princess. Just feel,” he whispers into my ear.

  This time, I do what he says. All I feel is the intensity building inside me. He releases my lips, and his tongue instead finds my other nipple as he lifts my shirt up.

  “Oh, wow,” I moan when he flicks his tongue over it.

  “You’re beautiful, princess.”

  His words barely register. I can’t focus on anything but the sensations on my breasts.

  His hand slips down my pants, and my heart rate increases in anticipation. He takes my pants off in one fluid motion, and then I’m exposed. My shirt is lifted high above my breasts, and my pants now lie in a pile on the floor while Killian is still completely clothed. Why the hell is he still clothed?

  When his mouth sinks lower until his tongue touches my clit, I no longer care that he is still clothed. All I care about is that he keeps doing that.

  “Oh my God!” I moan louder than I probably should.

  I feel his mouth curl into a smile, but his tongue never leaves my clit.

  “God, don’t ever stop whatever the hell you are doing.” I breathe fast as he swirls his tongue faster and faster over my bud.

  When he sticks two fingers inside me, I almost lose it.

  “Killian!” I scream as he stretches me.

  The sensation is beyond words. His fingers seem to completely fill me. I can’t imagine how it will feel to have his cock pushed deep inside me. I can’t imagine him being small.

  His fingers move faster inside me as his tongue moves in rhythm with them.

  “Come for me,” he commands in between thrusts inside me.

  “Oh, fuck,” I moan as I come, just like he commanded.

  His fingers slowly and reluctantly move out of me, but I can’t move. I’m too exhausted.

  I just came on a man’s fingers while his mouth tasted my juices. That’s a first. I’ve had sex before, sure, but no man has ever made me come before. Maybe that’s why I never went to seek it out. If I knew orgasms could feel better than the ones I give myself with a vibrator, I would have sought out men who could give orgasms like Killian sooner. I wonder if he is as good at making a woman orgasm when he’s thrusting deep inside her.

  “Be right back, princess,” he says. He gently kisses my lips. It’s a stark contrast to the kisses he was giving me just moments earlier.

  I sigh for the first time in a long time, feeling relaxed. I close my eyes as I wait for him to come back. I don’t bother with covering my naked body. Modeling has taught me not to be shy about my body, and I want more.

  When Killian comes back, I’ll be brave. I’ll show him what I want. I want him to fuck me like I’m sure he has with countless women before. I want to feel slutty and dirty. I want to feel wild. For the first time in my life, I want to fuck a complete stranger.

  I wake up suddenly as I’m thrown from another nightmare about my father’s death. I try to wipe the tears streaming down my cheeks, but I can’t move. I’m pinned to the hotel bed by a hot stranger’s arm. />
  His arm feels nice, stretched across my body—that is, until I realize we are both naked. Completely naked. Not I’m-wearing-underwear-and-a-bra kind of naked. No, I’m completely naked. He is, too. I know because his leg is draped over me, and his erection is pressed against my hip.

  I lie in the bed, frozen, not sure what to do. I don’t want to wake him, but I can’t stay here in bed all day. Although it does feel good to be wrapped in a hot stranger’s arms.

  I know how this goes though. As soon as he wakes up, I’ll awkwardly try to get dressed while he tries to find the best way to kick me out as fast as possible. I can’t handle that—not today, not ever.

  Maybe if I just slowly slip off the bed, I can get out, get dressed, and slip out of the hotel room before he even wakes up. Then, I can avoid the awkwardness that is bound to happen if he wakes up. Then, I can go back to my own bed and forget this ever happened—except, after a night like last night, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forget. I’ve never orgasmed so hard in my life. My only regret is, we didn’t actually have sex. So, I have no idea why Killian is completely naked.

  I gently begin moving his arm off my chest, already feeling the cold the second his arm falls to the bed. I wince, afraid he is going to wake up, but he doesn’t. I wipe the tears off of my face. Now, I just have to get out from beneath his leg. I try to shimmy off the bed, but I can’t. His leg is holding me in place. I try lifting—

  “What are you doing, princess?”

  I glance over at Killian. His eyes are still shut. His five o’clock shadow has grown slightly overnight.

  “Um…” I swallow hard. “I need to pee, and I have a meeting in five hours that I need to get to.”

  He leans over and softly kisses me on the lips. “I’ll order breakfast then.”

  He moves off of me and gets out of bed. I watch his bare ass as he walks to his suitcase. He pulls out a pair of jeans and slips them on without putting underwear on first. I curiously look at this man. His body is even better than I imagined. I just wish I could have seen the front of his body.

  He leaves me alone in the bed.

  Weird. My experience after almost one-night stands is that the guy wants you out fast. If not that, then I would assume he would be looking for sex. But Killian did neither of those things. Maybe he doesn’t find me attractive?

  I shake my head. It doesn’t matter what he thinks. Today will be the last day I ever see him, but it still stings. It hurts that he doesn’t even want to have sex with me.

  I get dressed quickly, but linger in the bedroom because I’m embarrassed. He has seen me naked and done untold things to my body while I barely even touched his.

  Maybe he wanted a blow job, and I didn’t even offer?

  Maybe he has a girlfriend?

  Maybe he was drunker than I thought and has a hangover?

  Maybe he’s into guys?

  When I hear the door to the hotel room open and shut, followed closely by the smell of bacon, I can’t hide out in the bedroom any longer. My stomach growls loudly as I open the door.

  Killian, still shirtless, is pouring coffee at the small table. He stops and looks at me as I enter the room. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t have to. His eyes say everything—that he’s attracted to me, that he wishes I were naked again and back in bed—but something is holding him back from doing what he really wants. I just wish I knew what that was.

  I let my eyes drop to his body as I make my way over to the table that is large for a hotel room, even for a suite. From the looks of his muscles, it’s obvious that he works out but not in the obsessed-with-the-gym sort of way. Just in the I-care-about-my-body-and-want-to-be-healthy-and-look-good sort of way.

  My mouth is gaping, I realize, as I stare at his body. “I, uh…your body…you look good,” I say, trying to make up for why I’m gawking awkwardly at him.

  He chuckles at my broken words. I quickly bite my lip to keep it from falling open again and saying anything more embarrassing.

  “I didn’t know what you would want for breakfast, so I ordered two options. There is a healthy or a I-want-to-die-happy option.”

  I take a seat opposite him and grab the plate with the pancake, eggs, and bacon. His eyes grow wide, but he doesn’t say anything.

  I smile. “It wasn’t what you thought I would choose?” I slightly raise my eyebrows, waiting for him to respond.

  He frowns, shaking his head. “No.”

  That’s when I look at the plate in front of him. A majority of the plate is fruit and vegetables along with an egg white omelet. He’s not drinking coffee, only water. He’s a health nut. Maybe I shouldn’t have shown my true colors in front of him, but I don’t really care. After breakfast, I will never see this man again.

  “How are you feeling this morning?”

  I bite into my pancake, the food immediately settling my stomach.

  “Hungry,” I say.

  I dig more into my meal so that I don’t have to talk. I don’t know what you are supposed to say when having breakfast with a man you almost had sex with. And he doesn’t seem like a huge talker anyway. So, maybe he will just enjoy the silence.

  “When did your father die?”

  I was wrong. He’s a talker. I stare awkwardly up at this stranger, not sure I want to confide in him. But I need to confide in someone, so why not him? He’s already told me that he doesn’t want me to get attached, so he’s not looking for anything beyond whatever happens this morning.

  “He died four days ago.” I don’t look at him. I just shovel more food into my mouth.

  “That’s what I thought,” he says, his voice sounds sad, withdrawn. “Were you close?”

  “Yes, he was the only person in my family who even remotely understood me.”

  “I’m sorry,” he says after a long pause.

  I give him a weak smile as I glance up from my food. He seems genuine. I nod, but words like that never make me feel any better, no matter how genuine they are.

  A few seconds pass as we both make huge dents in our breakfast plates. Neither of us speaks. I barely even breathe.

  “I’ve never lost anyone like that. I can’t imagine the pain you are going through…”

  “It’s not something I ever thought I would go through. And I’m not sure how I’m going to get through it right now. The pain is unbearable. I just know that I have to find a way…for him.”

  He nods and waits for me to say more, but I don’t.

  “His death is what you’re running from,” he says.

  I stare off into the distance. Is that what I’m running from? His death? I think for a moment. No, it’s not his death I’m running from. It’s my future.

  “No,” I say firmly. “I’m running from family obligations that have been sped up now that he’s gone.”

  His mouth turns upward into a slight smile. I have no idea why my statement would make a man who hardly ever smiles, smile.

  “Now, that’s something I can understand.”

  I run my hands through my hair, trying to read into that sentence’s meaning. What family obligations could a man almost in his thirties have? He can’t still be following his parents’ orders, like I am. That could only mean one thing…

  “Oh my God! You’re married, aren’t you? You probably have four or five kids at home that you’re responsible for.” I push away from the table and begin searching the hotel room for my purse, but I don’t see it. Shit, I silently curse. I’ll just have to leave and get a new ID and credit cards later. I don’t care about the cash I will lose. It’s not worth staying around to find out that I was the other woman—even if it was only for one night.

  “Whoa…slow down there, princess.” He grabs my arm so that I can’t move. “I’m not married,” he says slowly, like if he talks slower, it will somehow make his words more believable. “And I sure as hell don’t have four or five kids.”

  He cocks his head to the side, like he thinks I’m crazy. Maybe I am. I swallow hard, watching his desire gro
w in his eyes as he looks at me.

  “You’re not married?” I ask hesitantly.

  “No,” he says, smirking at me.

  “You don’t have kids?”

  “No.”

  I stare at his lips until they move so close to mine that I can barely breathe. His hands move up to tuck my blonde hair behind my ear. I shiver at his touch. He doesn’t kiss me though. He just hovers, obviously wanting more but denying himself what he wants for some reason.

  I don’t know what comes over me. I don’t know if it’s the fact that this man has already kissed me, and I already miss his lips. I don’t know if it’s the fact that his desire for me is so obvious that I can basically feel his heart beating fast beneath his chest because of me. I don’t know if it’s because today is the last day I get to choose who I can and can’t kiss.

  Whatever the reason, I kiss him. I grab the side of his neck as I do, so he can’t pull away. My kiss is defiant and carnal. It’s wet and deep and everything a kiss should be—except this time, when I kiss him, he barely kisses me back. Maybe I’m doing it wrong? But I know I’m not. I can feel his erection growing as it presses into my stomach. So, I don’t stop.

  It only takes a few seconds more until he is kissing me back with just as much hunger as he was before. I smile against his lips as he does. Maybe we will be having sex after all.

  Our kisses quicken as we both become more and more desperate for more, for promises that have been left unfulfilled since last night. We stumble backward until my body is trapped between him and a wall behind me. It feels nice to be possessed in such a way. When he lifts my body, I wrap my legs around his waist and moan because it’s exactly what I wanted him to do.

  I don’t stop kissing him as we he carries me back to the bedroom. I don’t stop until he roughly throws me onto the bed.

  I smile as he stares at me with those intense eyes that say so much when his mouth doesn’t. I watch as they turn from lust-filled to empty. I run my tongue over my lip, trying to look sexy, but the moment has passed, and I have no idea why.

  “You should go,” he says.

  My eyes widen, but I don’t ask why. I’m not going to beg someone to sleep with me when he obviously doesn’t want to.