My knees nearly buckled. I said against his lips, “Next time. Sex? Until I can’t walk.”
Miles nodded briefly. “It’s a date.” He kissed me again and thrust a finger between my asscheeks.
“Shit….” I pressed my forehead against Miles’s chest, watched my hand on his dick, and focused on that delicious tease of what “next time” would entail.
I can say with absolute certainty that the best hand job and fingering I’d ever had was from Miles. Kudos for the guy who worked with his hands for a living. Miles was both gentle and thorough, bringing me to the edge faster and more efficiently than any lover I’d had in the past. His hands were rough, and his callused skin made every part of my body feel like both fire and electricity at once.
I’d never screamed from a hand job, but I think his neighbors heard me that morning. And after we finished and washed, he smiled, kissed my lips, and made pancakes.
WHEN ITcame time for the fair that weekend, I realized it was a far bigger deal than Miles had led me to believe. It was like the entire town came out for it. Maybe neighboring ones too. After much fretting and baking more bread than he really knew what to do with, Miles had settled on a loaf of sourdough for the competition. The judges had taste-tested earlier in the day, and afterward the tent was opened to the public to sample the competing pieces.
Miles was nervous, which was precious. “There are a lot of people in the contest,” he said as we surveyed the rows of cakes, pies, stews, and other submissions.
I rubbed his back and he absently put an arm over my shoulder to pull me closer. “True, but look—your bread is gone.”
“Is it?”
I pointed to where there was a sign with his name and an empty plate.
“Maybe they tossed it.”
“Miles, don’t be silly.”
“It wasn’t my best.”
“Yes, it was.”
“I can do better.”
“I’m sure,” I agreed. “But they judgedthispiece. So there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“I should have done rye bread.”
“Sourdough is superior.” I looked up and smiled at him. “Don’t worry. It’s just for fun. Want to go take a hayride?”
“They announce the winners soon.”
“All right. Let’s get drunk on hard apple cider.”
Miles glanced down. “Maybe a drink wouldn’t hurt.” He dropped his arm as he turned, and we both nearly collided with Sam Bloom.
Great. The guy who wanted to shove me off a theoretical cliff.
But Sam seemed equally surprised and looked back and forth between us. “Miles,” he finally stated.
Miles was really excellent at neutral expressions, and with the naturally gentle way in which he spoke, it was difficult to tell if he was upset or not. Even though he was so nervous about this food competition, I’d have hardly known it from his deep, calm voice. In fact, the only reason I knew there was anissuebetween him and Sam was because it was Sam’s expressions that gave it away. Just like at the library, there was a crackle of energy between them, and not the good kind.
“Hello, Sam,” Miles said cordially.
Sam had already made up his mind about me. I was a roadblock he’d easily run over in a few weeks. His personal issue was with Miles. “Can I speak with you for a minute, Miles?”
Miles nodded and touched my arm briefly. “I’ll be right back.”
I stood just inside the tent, watching them outside. Miles had his hands in his coat pockets, saying nothing as Sam spoke animatedly, pointing this way and that, but more often than not in my direction. A few people glanced at them, but Miles didn’t flinch under the curious looks or Sam’s growing volume.
When Miles finally did speak, of course I couldn’t hear it, but it shut Sam up fast. I might have only lived in this town for a few weeks and had known Miles for a total offive days, but I wasn’t born yesterday. Sam was an ex who clearly wasn’t over a breakup. I felt a little bad, because even though I thoroughly disliked him for wanting to take my job and bulldoze down the library, Miles was swoonworthy and I could see how not having him anymore would hurt.
Miles patted Sam’s upper arm and walked back toward me. Sam watched him a moment longer, then turned and quickly walked away.
