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“We should probably go. Miles and I are going to set up his mother’s new apartment today so it’s ready when she moves in.” I try to get to the door, but my mother is standing directly in front of it.
“You could stay for coffee. You haven’t even had breakfast yet. I could make you something. Maybe some scrambled eggs? That would be nice, wouldn’t it? And maybe Miles wants a tour of the house and to see how Prince Francis is settling in.” She looks so excited about the prospect. And as much as I want to avoid any further embarrassment, I don’t want to wipe the smile off my mother’s face. It’s a real conundrum.
“Scrambled eggs would be great, thanks so much, Ms. Hart.”
“Oh, you can just call me Lucile, and it’s my pleasure. It’s just so nice to meet you.” She beams up at Miles. “I’ll get started on the eggs, and Kitty can show you around.”
She leaves us in the front foyer.
“I’m so sorry,” I mumble.
“Don’t be.” He winks. “Why don’t you give me that tour?”
I point to the stairs. “That’s where all the bedrooms are.”
He arches a brow. “You’re not going to show me yours?”
“Do you want to see it?” I haven’t even made my bed.
“Yes.”
I haven’t had a guy in my bedroom since high school. Anyone I’ve dated over the past few years, however brief, has had his own place, so we’d always go there. And maybe that’s a problem, because it’s made it easy for me to stay where I am. I haven’t had a long-term anything since college.
I lead the way, my stomach filling with butterflies and my mouth growing drier with every step. Maybe because of the conversation Hattie and I had last night. Maybe because the last time I was in a bedroom with Miles I was naked. Or because my mother called him my boyfriend and my bedroom will contain just the two of us, where he could potentially say something about that.
“That’s my mother’s room, and the linen closet, and that’s my sister’s room.” Hattie’s door has a chalkboard sign on it with her daily schedule and a “studying in progress/sleeping in progress” door hanger. “That’s the bathroom we share, and this is my room.” I push open the door and step inside.
I don’t have a chance to apologize for the mess, or the very cat-tastic decor, because Miles closes the door behind him and flips the lock. He closes the gap between us and takes my face between his palms. He tips my head back and covers my mouth with his.
I let out a shocked gasp, and he strokes his tongue inside on a low groan. One hand leaves my face and wraps around my waist, pulling me to him. I feel him, hard and insistent against my stomach, as he deepens the kiss.
We’re interrupted by a low meow.
Miles breaks the kiss for half a second, then decides he doesn’t care and fuses our mouths again.
Something crashes to the floor by my dresser.
This time when he breaks the kiss, he doesn’t come back for another one.
We both turn toward the dresser where Prince Francis sits, glaring in annoyance. My alarm clock is on the floor. His tail bats back and forth a few times and he knocks over my jewelry tree, which scares the crap out of him and sends him skittering under the bed.
“Why is he such a cockblocker?” Miles grumbles.
“He doesn’t like to share.”
“That makes two of us.” He brushes his lips over mine. “I like your bedroom.”
“It’s a mess, and you haven’t even looked at it.”
“It smells like you, and that triggers all kinds of positive memory associations for me.” He sucks my bottom lip between his, then releases it.
“I’m sorry my mom called you my boyfriend. Hattie used the word yesterday, and I know we haven’t had any kind of discussion about it. But I don’t want you to think that just because I’ve hugged your penis with my vagina that I automatically assume you want to be my boyfriend. I tried to say we were seeing each other, but my mom really latched on to the term boyfriend, apparently.”
Miles grins. “I don’t mind.”
“I’ll try to reiterate the whole being in the ‘seeing each other’ phase again when you’re not here, but I couldn’t call her out on it in front of you. No one needed to be more embarrassed than we already were. And there was the whole falling down the stairs piece.” I really wish I could stop drawing more attention to the embarrassing episodes.
“Do you want me to check for bruises?” He drags his tongue along his bottom lip, and his eyes darken.
I swallow thickly, thinking about the panties I’m currently wearing. “Maybe later.”
“Probably a good idea. Then I can do a very thorough examination.”
