With one impatient movement, he tears my underwear away and returns his fingers to me—slow at first, then deeper—while his tongue circles my swollen bundle of nerves. The combination is devastating. It’s everything, and somehow still not enough.
I fist his hair, tugging hard, my hips lifting toward his mouth like my body is begging for him on its own.
“I need you, Miles.” My voice is breathless—wrecked—already undone. “Now.”
His tongue moves faster, drawing another desperate sound from my throat.
“Miles, please,” I plead, pulling him up my body.
He kisses a path up my stomach, over my breasts, leaving my skin trembling in his wake. When he reaches my mouth, his eyes lock onto mine, dark and primal, like he’s hanging on by a thread.
“Condom?” he rasps.
Selfishly, hungrily, I shake my head. I don’t want a single thing between us. “I’m on birth control, but if you want?—”
I don’t even finish the sentence.
Miles thrusts into me in one swift, deep stroke, and the air rips from my lungs. My cry fills the room, and his answering groan vibrates against my lips. His eyes roll back for a moment, pure ecstasy overtaking his expression, before his forehead drops to mine.
His hips begin to move—slow at first, then deeper, harder, finding that rhythm that steals every coherent thought from my mind. I dig my fingers into the firm curve of his ass, urging him, begging him, pulling him closer.
“Harder,” I whisper—though it barely comes out as sound, more like a plea carved directly from my soul.
He gives me exactly what I ask for.
He pounds into me until the room blurs, until sweat slicks our skin and our breaths turn ragged, until every inch of my body feels like it’s burning from the inside out. I’m unraveling fast, chasing the edge with frantic need—and then I’m there.
My release crashes over me, violent and complete.
My senses explode.
My body convulses as I scream his name—over and over again—until his name dissolves into a hoarse whisper on my lips.
Miles follows with a guttural sound, spilling into me as he shudders through his own orgasm. Then he collapses beside me, both of us panting into the warm, lust-thickened air.
The world feels hazy, unreal. In my entire life, I’ve never felt this level of euphoria. Not even once.
Our bodies fit together like they were carved from the same shape, molded by the same hands, meant to find each other in every lifetime.
We don’t need words. Our bodies say everything—louder, truer, softer—than language ever could.
Miles and I make love until neither of us has the strength to move. Until my limbs shake from exhaustion, until I meltbeneath him like my bones have turned to liquid, until my heart feels swollen with a fullness I’ve never known.
When sleep finally pulls me under, I’m wrapped in Miles’s arms—warm, safe, and completely, utterly his.
CHAPTER
TWENTY
MIRANDA
My brain stumbles into consciousness, drifting upward through a fog of warmth and memory. It takes a second for the pieces to settle—my body humming with the soft, golden afterglow of pleasure. Every muscle feels languid and loose, still trembling faintly from the intensity of last night’s release.
The skin of my cheeks is cool, a stark contrast to the cocoon of heat wrapped around the rest of me beneath the blankets. The power must still be out. If this is what a night without electricity looks like… I can’t say I mind.
Miles made sure it was unforgettable.
He sleeps beside me now, deep and peaceful, his arm slung over my waist, his breath a slow rise and fall against the quiet. I roll onto my side to face him, unable to resist the pull. Miles is beautiful when he’s awake, but there’s something about a sleeping Miles that turns me into a complete goner. Something unguarded. Soft in a way he rarely is when the world is watching.
