I was never supposed to want to fuck Miles, but I love it.
I was never supposed tofeelsomething for him, but I can’t stop myself.
I want more of every single Miles Tanner thing I can have, and I’m not sure I’ll ever get my fill. And while it’s scary—and again, weird and confusing—there’s not a part of me that wants to run away. I’m too hooked, too curious, too interested.
“You really like it?”
I jump at the sound of his voice right behind me. Somehow, he’d snuck up on me. He’s dressed, and it’s clear he freshened up too. “Are you a fucking ninja?”
“Just good. You really like it?” he asks again, and I realize Miles needs to hear it. He’s good. There’s no doubt in my mind he knows that, but he’s also human and scarred, and when we cut ourselves open the way he did, we often need to be told we’re okay.
“It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen. I love it. I’m even prettier than I realized.”
He chuckles, and I’m reminded how much I love being the one to make Miles laugh.
I follow him into the kitchen, where he looks in the fridge. “Sorry. No grilled cheese.”
“I’d like to lodge a formal complaint.”
“Do you want me to go get cheese? I can.”
I grin. Who knew he was a closet sweetheart? Sure, he likes to be a little rough and control my orgasms, but this guy is all heart too. “No. I’m giving you shit. I’ll eat whatever.”
“Is there anything specific you want?”
“You?”
He grins.
“But then, if this ass is yours, I guess that dick is mine too. Did we agree to be exclusive?”
“Exclusively having sex,” he specifies.
“Well, I didn’t think you were asking me to be your boyfriend.” What would I say if he did, though? I’ve never had a boyfriend.
“Food?” Miles reminds me.
“Seriously, I’m good with anything.”
He surprises me by pulling ground beef from the fridge. I didn’t expect him to actually cook a meal, but when he grabs a bottle of sauce from the pantry, I realize he’s doing just that.
“Have you always been an artist?” I lean against the counter and watch as Miles starts browning the ground beef.
“For as long as I can remember. I’ve always loved art.”
“I bet your dad is proud,” I say, but the look on his face tells me it was absolutely the wrong thing. “Okay, so maybe not. My bad. I’m sorry.”
“We have a complicated relationship. But no, he’s not proud of my art. He wanted me to do something practical.”
“Maybe our dads are long-lost brothers,” I joke.
“And now I’m fucking my cousin.”
“I mean, it wouldn’t be our fault. We didn’t know,” I tease, and he laughs along with me, before he sobers.
“It’s not like that with my dad, though. It’s not the same as what you described about yours. He lost himself when my mom died, and in that, he left me.”
Shit. I don’t know what he means by that, and I want to ask him so badly, but I also don’t want to push. It’s not as easy for Miles to open up as it is for me, and I never want him to feel obligated to share anything before he’s ready. Plus, we already had a heavy afternoon. I just want to spend time with him right now, so I say, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up bad feelings.”
