He leans across the couch, squinting. He scrolls through the pictures, stopping finally on the map showing where it’s located. “It’s lovely. You’re not getting it.” He sits straight and kicks his feet up on the coffee table, searching through the channel guide way too fast for a normal person to process what might be on.
I laugh. “What do you mean, I’m not getting it? It’s perfect for that spot in the garden. It should fit in the back of my car, right?”
“I love that you teach math and have no sense of spatial awareness,” he says on a chuckle. “No, babe. It’s not going to fit in the back of your vehicle, and no, you’re not going to go and get it. It’s in a shit part of town.”
“Well, let me use your truck.”
His head doesn’t even move, just his eyes slide to the side, pinning me with an incredulous look.
“Not Maggie. I wouldn’t dream of asking you to share your baby with me. I can take the other one. It’ll be fine,” I say, focusing on the Messages app.
I ask the usual questions.Is it still available? Will you take less? Is tomorrow a good time to pick it up?Sure, I’m getting ahead of myself by listing all the questions at once, not waiting for a response. But it’s perfect.
The screen of my laptop slowly lowers until I have to pull my hands from the keyboard. Miles takes it from me, placing it on the end table next to him, well out of my reach.
“Chloe, I have no problem with sharing with you. You want to drive Maggie? That’s cool. I would love to see my girls together, bonding. Your delicate hands wrapped around her steering wheel. Watching you work her clutch and take her through her gears.”
His molten chocolate eyes darken as he turns to put his back to the arm of the sofa. His t-shirt bunches as he shifts, revealing a sliver of his taut belly.
He reaches forward, hooking a hand around each of my knees and pulling toward him. “In fact, I think it’d be hot as fuck to see you perched on her hood. One of those skirts you wear to work, your blouse gaping open, legs crossed, and those fuck-me shoes you have. Jesus.” Miles slides his hands down my legs and tucks my feet on either side of his hips.
Goose bumps pop up along my skin on the path he trails with calloused fingers. “You want dirty teacher pictures of me, Miles?”
“Dirty teacher, naughty librarian, whatever you want to call it. I call it art—pinup, nose art. Fucking beautiful.”
Desire pools low in my belly as he describes in intimate detail exactly which skirt and blouse, the specific pair of shoes,even adding the detail of stockings with seams running up the backs of my legs. “Sounds like you’ve given this a lot of thought. Actually, I’m pretty sure I was wearing almost that exact outfit the night we officially met at the Amarre’s house.”
Miles chuckles, nodding slowly. “Oh, I’ve given it all kinds of thought. Thought about it on an incredibly hard drive home that night.” He reaches down to adjust his growing erection. “I stroked my dick to the thought of you laid out over Maggie’s hood that night in the shower. Came pretty fucking hard.” He pushes himself off the couch, settling his knee between my thighs. He crawls up, stretching out above me, his hips notched in tight. He supports his weight on his elbows, framing my face between his big, warm palms.
“Did you?” I ask, trailing my fingertips down the center of Miles’s strong back, mapping the deep groove of his spine between ridges of tight muscle. “You did good work with your imagination. Pretty sure I wasn’t wearing stockings that night, and I know for a fact I don’t have any with seams.”
He groans against my neck as my hands push beneath his shorts, pulling him in closer to me. Miles rocks his hips against me, rubbing against my aching clit, the friction delectable.
“Definitely need to remedy that. Get you some garters, too.” His tongue darts out, trailing down my throat to dip into my collarbone.
In a blur of motion, I’m in his arms, and once again, Miles takes the stairs, silently stealing down the hallway and into my room.
“So,you really don’t mind if I take her for a spa appointment?” It’s not a lie, not really.
Puss ’n’ Pits provides spa services, just not for Miles’s truck. But after he shared his spank material with me, I found the business card Jasmine had slipped into my hand and called Jensen to see if he would take my picture.
Miles shoots me a look. “Why would I mind? I told you last week, I like the idea of you behind Maggie’s wheel.” He tosses me the keys and adds, “Jake and I have some errands to run today, so take your time.”
I check my tote bag to make sure that I have everything I need. When I called Jasmine to tell her what Jensen and I had planned, she said not to worry about anything. But my makeup bag has all my favorites products.
“Okay, I guess I’ll see you boys later, then. Have fun and make good choices,” I say as I squeeze out the door.
I hook my hangers over my finger, the thin plastic film from the dry cleaner billowing out behind me as I slide into Miles’s beloved truck before hurrying to Puss ’n’ Pits.
“You’re here,” Jasmine screeches when I walk through the door. “Flip the sign and roll the lock closed, would you, darlin’? We are on a tight schedule.” Her hips sway as she leads me back to her office.
Curling irons of various sizes line one side of the makeshift vanity counter. Makeup palettes, brushes, hair spray, and an array of other beauty products fill the other. I hang my clothes on the edge of the door and pull my makeup bag from my tote.
“This seems woefully inadequate,” I say, placing the orange-fuchsia-and-white swirled bag next to Jasmine’s assembled tools.
“I told you, you didn’t need to bring anything. Have a seat here, sweetie. Let’s get this party started.” She spins the desk chair and pats it.
The minute my tush hits the chair, Jasmine works efficiently and furiously. Working my glossy raven hair, meticulouslystraightening it, only to set it in fat rollers. While those set, she gets to work on my face. Layers upon layers of foundation, concealer, contouring and highlighting. My eyes, dark and sultry, with mile-long lashes and perfectly winged lines. My lips stained blood red, a layer of matte lipstick over top for the finishing touch.
