He’s close, too close, his bare shoulder inches from mine, his lips parted, sauce smudged at the corner of his mouth. I want to wipe it away, pull the boy in, taste the pizza and his defiance all at once.
My hand twitches, and I lean in, our faces inches apart, his breath hitching.
But I pull back, my heart pounding. Not like this. Not now.
“How about dessert?” I say, my voice gruffer than I mean it to be. “There’s a spot a few blocks away—best gelato in the city. Or better yet, we walk it off, pick it up ourselves.”
Miles’ eyes widen, a flicker of worry crossing his face.
“Walk? Outthere? After…” he trails off, and I know he’s thinking of his trashed apartment, that note—Next time, you’re dead.
“Don’t worry,” I say, standing and grabbing my jacket. “I know how to move in the shadows. You stick with me, do exactly what I say, and you’ll be safe. Promise.”
He hesitates, clutching Bean, but nods, his jaw set.
“Okay. But if we get jumped, I’m blaming you,” Miles says with a smirk. “Or I might just need to pull out my black belt karate skills!”
I grin, tossing him a hoodie from the coat rack.
“Deal,” I laugh. “Now move, Little. Gelato waits for no one, even for black belts.”
We step out into the night, the city’s pulse wrapping around us.
I keep him close, my hand hovering near his back, my senses sharp for any sign of trouble.
Cole’s message about Knox & Rain and the new cartel lingers, but for now, it’s just me, Miles, and the promise of something sweet. And maybe, just maybe, a chance to figure out what the hell we’re doing with each other…
Chapter 11
Miles
The morning sun spills through Travis’s floor-to-ceiling windows, painting the sparse apartment in soft golds. He might not have the kind of décor that a Little like me would appreciate, but there’s no denying that it’s a strong, comforting vibe here right now.
I’m up early, my body wired despite the late night of pizza andLilo & Stitch. The memory of Travis’s hand hovering near my back as we walked to the gelato shop, his promise to keep me safe, lingers like a warm current.
I know I shouldn’t be having these feelings.
But… what can I do about it? And can I use it to my advantage?
I’m in his oversized t-shirt again, my jeans swapped for leggings, and I’m padding around his kitchen, trying to shake the restless energy. Bean is perched on the counter, his little eyes watching as I fumble with the coffee maker, the rich aroma starting to fill the air.
I’m about to grab mugs when movement catches my eye.
The bathroom door’s ajar, just a crack, and through it, I see Travis stepping out of the shower.Naked. Water glistens on his broad shoulders, trailing down his chiseled back, his muscles flexing as he reaches for a towel. My cheeks burn, and I freeze, my heart thumping so loud I’m sure he’ll hear it. He’s all power and grace, and for a second, I can’t look away—until I realize I’m staring like some kind of creep.
Yikes.
Look away.
Look away, Miles!
I tiptoe back to the kitchen, my face flaming, and focus on the coffee, my hands shaking as I pour two cups. I need to get a grip. And fast.
My mind flashes to last night, the pizza, the way we laughed over crusts, the moment we almost kissed. Travis’s face was so close, his breath warm, those piercing eyes locked on mine.
I wanted it—God, I wanted it—and part of me still does.
It would’ve complicated everything, made this mess of a situation even messier, but Travis pulling back… it felt like restraint, not rejection. Like he cared enough to stop.
