Page 56 of Falling

“You always look so comfortable in your own skin,” Miles said. “I thought that when I first met you. I envied it.”

“Comes with age,” I said. “You’ll get there.”

I wanted to watch him get there. More than anything, in the moment. He was like the curled up bud of a spring flower just waiting to burst into full bloom. I saw more and more of it, the edges of the person he was going to be one day sticking out, full of life and charisma and confidence.

All he needed was a little time, a little care, and a little… love.

I thought maybe I could give that to him. If he’d let me.

“You like my body?” Miles asked, looking up at me under pale lashes.

“Fishing for compliments?” I teased. I knew he wasn’t, not really. He’d never had anyone to tell him how gorgeous he was, to appreciate every line and curve and freckle. At least, not so he believed them.

Miles twirled a tuft of my chest hair between his fingers, looking down again.

“I do like your body,” I said, running the hand that’d been threatening to dip into his sweatpants up his back, sweeping over his shoulders and then to his chest. “I like the freckles on your collarbones,” I added, tracing the lines of them. “And you’ve got the prettiest nipples I’ve ever seen.”

Miles gasped as I traced them each in turn, taking my time.

“Stronger arms than I expected,” I continued, running my hands over the lean, compact muscles there. All the moving books around, I supposed.

“The most beautiful hands.” I brought one to my lips, brushing a kiss over the knuckles. “Which are allowed to touch me wherever they want.”

Miles laughed as I let his hand go so I could go back to exploring the rest of him. “This is very cute,” I said, trailing a finger around his belly button and then the adorable strawberry blond treasure trail disappearing into his sweats, a shade darker than the hair on his head.

“Great butt,” I continued, my hand diving down past his waistband now and splaying over naked skin—I’d promised to launder his underwear for him—before giving it a firm squeeze.

Miles’s throat worked as he swallowed.

“Love the way your thighs feel around me,” I said, easing my hand back out of his sweats, taking a moment to appreciate the way he was starting to tent them as I ran my hands along his thighs, tucking my thumb in where they were pressed up against me.

“Book,” Miles sighed, rocking into my hands. I grinned up at him, thrilled I could make him feel like this, that he wanted me.

“Yeah?” I asked, toying with the fabric of his sweats.

“I don’t know what to ask for,” Miles said, his gaze flicking up to meet mine, pleading in his eyes.

I couldn’t help being a little turned on by him coming to me for answers. Trusting me to help him figure it all out.

“Do you like being kissed?” I asked. I got the feeling I knew the answer, since Miles had barely let me have my mouth to myself all night last night, but I wanted him to think about it for himself.

He nodded, shifting shyly on top of me, eyes widening a little as he felt my cock hard under him. “Oh.”

“Oh,” I repeated, reaching up to curl a hand around the back of his neck. “Did I not mention that every inch of you does it for me?”

The shy smile that spread over Miles’s lips was too delicious to let him keep for himself, so I pulled him down to taste it, rocking my hips as his moved so he could feel just how much I meant it.

“Is it weird that knowing you’re hard is maybe the best part of this for me?” Miles asked, rolling his hips.

“No weirder than anything else about you,” I teased, grinning against his mouth as I kissed him again. “Think we can maybe find some other things you’ll like just as much,” I added, tightening my grip on his ass, pulling him closer.

“Know what I like?” I murmured in his ear, smiling at the way he squirmed against me, looking for friction.

“What?”

“I like making you come,” I said, grinding slow and deliberate up against him, drawing the stroke out so he felt it against the entire length of his cock.

“Even if it takes ten seconds?” Miles asked wryly.