“Have you and he ever…?” I can’t imagine how they would without Xavier touching him, but I’m not discounting it.
“No.”
That doesn’t make me feel better. There’s still acid sitting in my throat. “He forced you to kiss me. You didn’t want it.”
“When did I say that?”
“It was heavily implied, Miles. Youonlydid it because Xavier told you to.”
Miles tilts his head, hair flirting with his shoulder. “I choose to follow Xavier’s orders; he doesn’t force me. It’s not a bought loyalty. If I truly hadn’t wanted to, then I wouldn’t have.”
I highly doubt there are many, if any, limits to that loyalty, no matter what he says. Some of the acid recedes anyway. “Tell me why, then. The truth,” I push. I want the answer from his lips. I want him to admitsomething.To be here in it, instead of on the periphery, waiting for Xavier to give him instructions.
“I wouldn’t have done it without Xavier,” Miles says, breath hitching a little when I sway forward, our lips almost brushing. Close enough that I can see every detail of his face. “That doesn’t mean I did it without thought. Or that I didn’t want it. You think I don’t see why Xavier is in love with you? That I don’t notice all the reasons why?”
“And if I wanted to kiss you right now?” I place a hand on the wall beside his head, crowding him further. Careful not to touch him or violate the trust he’s giving me by letting me this close to him in the first place. “Xavier isn’t here.”
“Are you going to do it or just talk about it?”
“Why don’t you like touch? Did someone hurt you?” If that was the case, Xavier wouldn’t have let that stand, would have killed anyone who dared to touch Miles.
“Not in the way you think,” Miles says, voice almost as low as a whisper. “I wasn’t abused as a child or as an adult. I simply wasn’t touched, and I don’t like it.”
“Is that why you wear gloves?”
“Partly.”
“But you’ll kiss.” It’s a form of touching; why is it different?
“I kissed you.”
The implication of that sits heavy. He can’t possibly mean that how it sounded. “And others you’ve kissed, did that not count as touching either?” My fingers curl into the wall.Tell me the truth.
“If I’d kissed anyone else, I could tell you,” Miles says lightly. “You didn’t touch me, and I instigated it.”
His first kiss. Fucking hell, I’d never have picked that. “And that makes it different?” I ask, skirting around the other question I want to ask. Not having kissed someone doesn’t mean he hasn’t had sex. Some people don’t like the intimacy of the act when it’s nothing more than a fuck to them.
“Seems like it.”
It sounds like he doesn’t even know. What he’ll accept, and what he won’t. Xavier hasn’t pushed, and I can’t see anyone else being brave enough to. He’s never been given the chance to take it further, test his limits, find out where they even are.
“Being in control helps?”
“I don’t know. Are you going to kiss me or not?”
“Is that your idea of an invitation?”
He tugs on my tie and pulls me forward, our lips meeting halfway. I let him lead, keeping still with both hands either side of his head. He explores slowly, with less pressure than last night. Not in any hurry to take it further, to do more than feel me against him. I don’t think I’ve ever had a kiss this soft, and I’d never have expected to experience it with Miles Whitlock, of all people.
His tongue flicks out, skimming my bottom lip. I part for him, and he slowly eases in, deepening the kiss. He still has a hand wrapped around my tie, the other hanging by his side. I want to encourage him to put it on me, to touch, but spooking him isn’tmy goal, and I’m more hesitant than I was last night. Now that I know, I can’t put that information back in the box.
He pulls away too soon, and disappointment spears me.
“We should find that lizard,” he says against my lips, hand gliding down my tie and then away, leaving it hanging skewed. “Before anyone else shows up uninvited.”
He’s right, I know it. But it’s the last thing that I want to do right now. No, I want to finish this. Find out what it means, what the fuck we’re doing. Xavier brought him into this, and now there’s no removing him from the equation. And I don’t want to.
With reluctance, I pull away from him. “Any idea where a lizard might be kept?”
