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It takes me by surprise. One second I’m holding on to my control with bloody, battered fingertips. And the next I’m flying right over the edge of the most intense pleasure I’ve ever felt.
It swamps me, pulls me under. Takes me deep as I come and come and come, with my face buried in Tori’s neck and her entire body wrapped around mine.
She holds me through it, her mouth pressed to my ear. Her hands tight around my back. Her body moving perfectly under mine. I want her with me, want her coming one more time as I empty myself inside her, so I slip a hand between us and stroke her clit once, twice. Third time’s the charm as she cries out, her body clenching me in a rhythm so perfect that I wish it would never end.
And that’s when I know for sure. This thing between us isn’t some temporary aberration. It isn’t some early-morning fuckfest that we’ll forget as soon as it’s over. No, I think as I take her mouth with mine in a kiss that is as possessive as it is deep, whatever this is that’s unfolding between us…it isn’t casual and it isn’t temporary…at least not on my part.
Now all I have to do is convince the Queen of Fuck and Run that this time, staying will be a lot more fun…
Chapter 15
Tori
I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck.
It’s not just that Miles is heavy where he’s stretched out on top of me—he is. Nor is it that the cut on the bottom of my foot broke open sometime in the last hour—it did. It’s that every part of me—my body, my mind, my heart—feels flattened by what just happened. And I have no idea how I feel about that…or how I should feel.
There’s a part of me—a big part, actually—that wants to stay right here in bed with Miles. That wants to cuddle up and wrap myself around him forever. Or at least for as long as he’ll have me. It’s that thought that scares me, actually. That thought that has me pushing him off me. That has me sliding out of bed and heading into the bathroom at what could loosely be called a jog, but is really more of a run—even with my injured foot.
“Hey.” The covers rustle behind me as he sits up, makes a grab for my wrist. I manage to dodge him without making it look like I’m dodging him—it’s a gift I’ve perfected over the course of several awkward morning-afters.
“Are you okay?” he asks. But I’m already halfway to the bathroom, escape the only thing on my mind. Being the one to leave instead of being the one left.
“Of course.” I toss him a careless smile over my shoulder. “Why wouldn’t I be? That was amazing. You were amazing.”
He doesn’t look convinced, but I don’t wait around to see if that changes. Instead I duck into the bathroom and close the door before turning the shower on. Only then do I stop. Only then do I sink down on the edge of the bathtub and give myself a second to breathe.
What just happened?
What the fuck just happened?
Two days ago I hated Miles Girard, didn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. And this morning I let him give me three orgasms? Three! Orgasms! When I’ve only ever been able to have one with a guy before—if that.
I don’t know what the hell happened in that bed, or what the hell is happening inside me still, but it feels like my brain and my instinct for self-preservation went on vacation right along with my bank account. It’s only been a day, but I miss all three.
Especially since I was just underneath Miles Girard, and had to fight against an overwhelming desire to stay right there—which is totally not acceptable. I’ve never been one to stay where I’m not wanted, after all. It’s a lesson I learned early on.
Which means I need to get my shit together. I need to remember that staying here is just temporary because my whole damn life is in the process of falling apart. And that while Miles may not be the total ass I’ve always thought he was, that doesn’t mean what just happened between us means anything. It sure as hell doesn’t mean that we’re going to live happily ever after or some such shit.
Just the thought has me breaking out in a cold sweat. I never think about happily ever after, rarely even let myself think about what it would feel like to be happy for now with someone. So where the hell did that idea of anything even remotely resembling permanent come from? And why the hell should I care that there’s no chance for us to be anything but what we already are?
I don’t care, I tell myself as I rub my hands along my suddenly goosebump-covered legs. I don’t care at all. I’m just strung out from everything that’s happened. I’m lost, adrift, and Miles is the first thing I’ve glommed on to. That has to be it. That has to be—
I stand when a knock on the door interrupts my deluded musings (yes, I’m totally woman enough to know when I’m lying to myself). “Tori. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, of course.”
There’s a pause. “Will you please come out here and talk to me for a minute? Let me see your face?”
That’s the last thing I want right now, considering how vulnerable I’m feeling. I need to get my defenses in place before I face him again; otherwise all these mixed-up emotions will be written all over me. “I’ll be out in a few minutes,” I tell him. “I’m in the shower right now.”
It’s a small white lie, one I don’t expect to be caught in. At least not until the bathroom door opens—why the hell didn’t I lock it—and Miles is standing there, eyebrows raised and lips twisted sardonically. “In the shower, huh?”
“I was just waiting for the water to warm up.”
