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“Thanks, Tess.”
* * *
It’s the early hours of the morning. Sleep still feels far off.
Climbing to my feet, I walk across the expensive hotel room, pressing my ear against the adjoining door. Heavy breathing and low grunting come from Miles’ room. What the heck is he doing in there? Masturbating?
I push my ear closer against the door, listening to his deep grunts, my thoughts coming alive with an image of him sitting shirtless in bed, his huge length in his hand, pumping as he thinks of me. Leaning closer, the door whines, and the grunting stops.
“Layla?” he growls, nearer than I thought.
He’s right next to the door. I should turn the lock, return to bed, and pretend I didn’t hear anything. I should think of Mom standing at the front window as Miles loaded my suitcase into the car. She had her arms folded, her eyes shining with tears.I’mthe one who asked for adjoining rooms to begin with.
“Yeah?” I murmur.
He pulls the door open, giving me a sense of déjà vu. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of shorts, sweat sliding down his muscled body, causing his pecs and abs to shine in the lamplight.
“What were you doing?” I whisper.
He takes a step forward, heat radiating from his body.
“I couldn’t sleep, so I did a few pushups to work out some of this tension.”
“Did it work?”
He smirks, reaching down, groaning as his hands claim my hips. I moan as I feel his hands on me. I can’t help it. His touch is just as electric as the first time he touched me at the wedding when I knew my life would never be the same again.
“What do you think?” he growls.
Stop, I try to say orshouldsay. When he kisses me, I forget all about being a good daughter, especially when he slides his hands from my hips to my ass, massaging me, driving his hips forward so I can feel his solid length against my belly. Our lust carries us across the room, a dance toward the bed.
I fall back, and he collapses atop me, our lips never parting. When he props his hands up on the bed so he doesn’t crush me, I grab his arms and squeeze to feel his solid biceps against my palms. He stops the kissing, rears back, and holds me captive in his gaze.
“If you’re going to tell me to stop,” he snarls, “now would be the time. Otherwise, I won’t be able to.”
I almost say it. A vignette of Mom flashes across my mind. Then my core starts to ache and get warm, my lips sore, my clit pulsing with the memory of when he licked between my legs.
“What if I can’t do it?” I whisper.
“Youcan,” he growls. “You will. Your body was made for me.Onlyme.”
He kisses me again, leaning aside slightly to slide his hand up my leg. I spread my thighs, pushing down any nervous or guilty voices, listening to the roar of want instead.
When he pushes his hand against my sex, I can’t think about anything except the pleasure bursting through me. He’s right. My body is ready for this, waiting for him. He rubs slowly at first but gets quicker, firmer, as I moan more intensely through the kiss. Then he stops kissing and leans back.
“I need to watch you. You look so damn gorgeous when you come.”
Pulling my shorts down to my knees, he pushes his hand against my naked pussy, groaning as he touches my hole and then paws up my lips, stopping at my clit, and spreading wetness all over me.
“Just think,” he says huskily. “This could be the start of everything. Our family.”
“I want it so freaking badly.”
All I have to do isnotthink about Mom. Not think about the fact I promised myself we’d wait. It’s easy to forget when he focuses on my clit, massaging it compulsively as if nothing could stop him.
My hips become possessed with the spirit of lust, moving in time with his hand, chasing the searing, starry sensation. Each stroke of his fingers across my clit triggers another wave of near release, as though an orgasm is pressing against a dam within, barely contained, and any second…
“Oh, fuck,” Miles groans. “Yes, Layla. Come for me. Only for me. Nobody elseevergets to see you looking so damn perfect.”
