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“It’s fine,” I snap. “Seriously. I won’t be long.”
“Who’s your friend?” Graham asks as we walk back into the restaurant.
“He’s my step-uncle,” I say, even if it feels like a lie.
I can still taste Miles on my lips, feel his touch against my sex through my pants.
“He needs to stay out of my business,” Graham snaps. “Don’t forget next time.”
When I return outside, Miles is pacing in front of his car, shaking his head. He’s brimming with anger, every inch of his hulking body touched by it.
“He’s got no right to treat you like that,” Miles snarls. “Nobody does. Ever.”
CHAPTEREIGHT
Miles
“It’s not a big deal,” she says as I pull out of the parking spot.
It’s the second time she’s said that, but I can’t accept her words.
“He’s an ass,” I snap. “I’ve met his type before. Pathetic, weak-minded pricks like him live to make other people feel small. Once they get some power, however small, they’ll abuse it as often as possible. It wouldn’t surprise me if he clocked you in just to make you do it again.”
“I thought you were going to hit him back there.”
I glance at her. She’s taken her hair down, brushing her hand through it, long and beautiful. She’s smiling, despite apparently hating that I stood up for her.
“I think you’d enjoy that.”
She laughs quietly. “Maybe I did, but my career wouldn’t be very pleased. Can you let it go, Miles? For me?”
There’s no way I can say no to this since I’d do anything for her.
“Okay, I’ll try, but he needs to remember his manners.”
“People are rude sometimes. It’s just how the world works.”
“Nobody has the right to be rude to you.”
“You can’t protect me from everyone.”
“Maybe not,” I say, “but I can try.”
She crosses her arms. Her breasts push together as she folds her arms. They are round and voluptuous, enough to stir my manhood into a solid length, my tip aching with the need to feel her hand, lips, and breasts. I almost howl when I imagine slipping my precome-soaked dick between her tits, pumping her pussy. Oh, damn, I have to stop. The lust in me never stops ticking away, working at my resolve.
“That’s what good step-uncles do, huh?” she says.
“Are you trying to start a fight?”
“I’m just stating a fact.”
“You’re reminding me I’m your step-uncle, so I don’t try anything, which is funny, Layla, because you’ve been giving me kiss-me vibes since you got in the car.”
Her laugh is a reflex. It’s like there are two versions of us.
The version that knows we have to stop and the one that can’t.
“Have Ireally?” she says. “I didn’t know that.”
