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The mouth on this guy! He doesn't lack for confidence. "Come in."
He laughs at my choice of words but this time I feel like he's laughing with me, not at me.
Some of the nerves in my stomach settle. This, having sex for the first time, is a big deal. But I can handle it.
Shit. I promised Kara I'd text her if I left. I stop just inside my door and dig through my purse.
Miles looks at me quizzically. "Someone else you'd rather talk to?"
I shake my head. "Kara. It's a girl thing."
"Tell her you're about to have the best sex of your life."
"Not a lot of competition there."
He slides his hands over the hem of my dress. That hand is so, so close to exactly where it needs to be.
I find my phone and tap out a text to Kara.
Meg: Went home early. Everything is fine. See you Sunday.
Miles plucks my phone from my hand and slides it into his pocket. He shifts, pinning me to the wall.
I close my eyes and soak in the weight of his body. God, he feels so good. We're almost there.
When his lips connect with mine, every bit of ugliness fades. My awful memories fade. The outside world fades. Every moment that isn't this one fades.
The kiss breaks. My body is buzzing. I'm desperate, but I can't let it show. I channel Miles's aloof confidence. I'm cool, calm, collected. No problem.
His eyes pass over me again. "You look amazing in that dress."
"I know."
"You're supposed to compliment me after that."
"I know that, too."
His lips curl into a smile. "You've got to butter me up a little if you want me naked."
Damn, the man is a mind reader. Or maybe he's used to women wanting him naked. Doesn't matter. Right now, I need him naked.
I press my thigh into his. "You have tattoos, right?"
"Several."
"And you got them just so you'd have a reason to take off your shirt."
"You caught me." He laughs. "You sure you weren't drinking at the show?"
I run my fingers over the hem of his t-shirt. "Positive."
He moves my hand gently and pulls his t-shirt over his head. Damn. He's even more attractive up close. His chest and shoulders are strong. I run my fingers over his sculpted abs and trace those v-lines at the top of his hips. They're like an arrow pointing to a prize.
A prize I need desperately.
But I don't want to rush. This feels good. It's the only thing that feels good. I'm going to savor it.
His tattoos are just as sexy as his muscles. Somehow, the ink makes him hotter. It's like his songs— his soul is on his skin for anyone to see. It's obvious and mysterious at once.
