It wasn’t asoverwhelmingly sweet as I’d been expecting, and itdidn’ttaste likecookie dough. Not really. There were spices—ginger, I thought, and maybenutmeg—and the faint grittiness of cookie crumbs.
I wasn’t necessarilysold on it yet, but I took another spoonful in the interest of deciding whetherI liked it or not.
“This is calorie-dense andhighly palatable,” Miles said. “It’s for when I can’t stand the thought of realfood. It’s also comforting.”
Calorie-dense and highlypalatable sounded like medical terms, and I couldn’t help wondering if thiswas an old habit, something Miles had been doing since he was sick as a kid.The knowledge that heneededto squeezed something in my chest, tight andpainful.
I didn’t want him to beupset. Ever. He was too sweet for that, too kind-hearted.
I waswaytooattached to this guy.
And yet, I couldn’t quite bringmyself to pull back. There’d always been something about him, and that feelinghadn’t faded.
Would falling a little inlove withoneclient really ruin my career? Or was this a risk I couldafford to take?
Miles was staring at me, andI only realized then that I’d fallen silent all of a sudden, too caught up inthoughts and feelings about him to respond.
Pushing aside the voice thatwarned me he was aclient, and I couldn’tdo this, I reached outto him. His breath hitched as my hand cupped his cheek, fingers sliding back tothe hollow behind his ear.
The sound of my heartthumping in my chest was enough to drown out everything else. All theobjections, all the worries, all the things that said I couldn’t have this.
I needed it. I needed Milesmore than I needed air right now.
“Gray,” he said softly,breathless, his eyes shining with unmistakable need and want, and that was thelast push I needed. I surged forward, pulling him in, wanting him as close as Icould get him.
He tasted of the goddamncookie butter, though I was willing to admit that onhim, I liked it.
A soft, needy little sighpassed between us, a whimper from Miles, a low hum rumbling in my own chest.This wasgood. This was everything I wanted it to be.
I stood, wanting to becloser, moving until my legs were pressed up against his, tilting my face tokeep my nose out of the way. Miles’ soft little hitched breath as I brushed mytongue over his lips went straight to my cock, searing lust pooling in the pitof my stomach.
I wanted him.
I’d wanted him since I firstsaw him, and once hadn’t been enough.Twicehadn’t been enough.Being around him only made it worse.
Right now, I wasn’t sureanythingwould ever beenough. But I was willing to take whatever he’d give me and thank him forit after.
“Should we be doing this?”he gasped against my lips, more breath than words.
“You wanna stop?” I asked,backing off a half-inch, not wanting to lose his warmth or his soft, invitingscent.
Miles shook his head. “I want you,” hemurmured. “Dammit, Iwantyou and I can’t push you away anymore.”
“Then don’t.” I reached up,running my fingers through his hair. “Don’t push me away.”
I sealed our lips togetheragain, needing the closeness, wanting Miles to agree that this feltgood,and right, and like we were doing exactly what we were supposed to be doing.
His fingers curled in myshirt, pulling me in, and for a single heartbeat everything was right with theworld. This was how things were meant to be. I knew it all the way down to themarrow of my bones.
“So when you said we weregoing to negotiate whether or not you were spending the night here…” Milesmurmured, brushing his nose against mine. “My opening position is to offer youthe bed.”
“Then where areyougonna sleep?” I smirked.
“On the couch if you’re notcareful,” Miles responded.
Then he wrapped his legsaround my waist without moving from the stool he was sitting on, squeezingtight.
I was lost. Any thoughtother than having this, this perfect moment with him, was gone.
