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 awayfrom 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 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 thanDallas. “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.”
SIXTEEN
Miles
I drag myself from Chloe’s bed minutes before my alarm sounds. God knows, I don’t want to go but I promised her I would leave before Jake woke up. After using her bathroom, I rummage around on the 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 have 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 have time to deal with it.
So, I sneak 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 Blake gave her a look, but no way in hell is she reliable enough 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?”
Erin 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 Erintips 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.
