“Stomach…heart?”
It takes a second, then a thought rises. Is he talking about the croissants? Is that what he means by winning my heart through my stomach?
It makes no sense, though!
“What about the news article that went out earlier? I thought your grand plan was to be seen wearing my clothes to show you’re interested in me: a man. I thought you wanted to come out to your fans?”
Milo’s expression says he thinks I’m out of my mind, which isn’t far from the truth.
“Iaminterested in you,” he says slowly. He enunciates each word like he’s trying to get them through my thick skull. “But I have no plans of coming out to my fans right now. Even if I did, I would consult Ray about it first, or else he’d get ornery, and I don’t want anevenangrierRay on my hands!”
My face burns hot red.
“I…you…” Milo said a lot in those few sentences, but all I can focus on is one thing. “You’re interested in me? What happened to being friends—BFFs?”
Milo rolls his eyes. He looks so exasperated that I’m tempted to apologize for not keeping up.
“Which is why I had to execute my grand plan! And it worked, didn’t it? Isn’t that why you were so possessive of the croissants I made from the heart?”
I bite my tongue to keep from revealing that I wanted to spare his feelings about his baking.
“I was—am—touched by the croissants, but that doesn’t fix our current problem. We can’t.”
“You can’t honestly tell me you don’t feel this connection too? Or that you didn’t masturbate after the kiss we shared in the gym? Because I sure as hell did—while thinking about you,” he admits.
My lips tighten without a word, and my face burns even more. I can’t deny either of his claims. Nor can I ever tell him he’s been the main character in my dreams for the past few days.
It’s toopotentto say out loud.
“We can’t,” I repeat.
Maybe if I repeat it often enough, we’ll finally stop this insanity?
I don’t look at him.
I can’t.
If he flashes those heated grays at me, I’ll cave, and Milo must know that too. He uses both hands to cup my cheeks and forces me to look at him.
“Tell me you don’t want me,” he dares.
It’s a dare I can’t win because I want him sodamnbadly. A minute of silence passes through us as I get lost in those pretty eyes.
Milo smirks and leans in until our breaths mingle. “Because I want you. I’ve been dreaming about this. You, me, right here. You, bending me over the couch and devouring me until your name is the only thing I can remember.”
“Fuck,” I growl out.
His words are a dizzying voice of my desires, and I cave. I steal those lips with my own and flip us over until his back is against the couch and my body is holding him hostage.
My lips are only on his for a quick taste before skimming down his chin, his neck, and every revealed piece of skin I can reach.
“Fuck, yes. Need more, Rowan,” Milo gasps.
The sexy moan of my name urges me on. For once, he’s wearing too many layers. My leather jacket billows out around him, absolutely swallowing him. Now that I have access to touch him like this, I’m obsessed with the way it looks on him.
Milo looks like he has no intention of taking it off either. He’s back to bringing the sleeve to his nose for a sniff, which wrangles an animalistic sound out of me.
“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” I accuse.
