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He shoves his chair back and stands up, wrapping his arms around me and carrying me down the hall.
I rake my fingers through his hair and kiss him deeply, not caring that he’s walking or might need to see. I need him.
He groans against my mouth, then stops in the hallway, pressing me against the wall as he kisses me back, rough and raw. It’s sloppy and hungry, all the raw desire pouring out of us. He gives into it for as long as he can take, then yanks me from the wall and carries me into the guest bedroom, pinning me to the wall all over again. I don’t know what it is about it that sends me over the edge, but it does. Desire rolls through me in waves, crashing over me and pulling me down into a haze of lust.
“Tell me what you want, baby,” he rumbles, his lips pressing into my neck.
Him. That’s all I can think right now. All that matters. I love having fun with him, being playful or getting rough. We’d never live a Dom/sub lifestyle, but it would be fun to try it in the bedroom. But not tonight. Tonight, I want more than that. I want the kind of passion I missed out on. The kind of intense emotional connection I couldn’t have with anyone but him. Soul-bearing, heart open, making love. That’s what I need tonight.
“I need us. Stripped back. Nothing extra. Just us.”
He kisses me again, hard and impassioned, lessening the pressure and pulling his lips away slowly. He sets me down, then licks his lips, stepping forward and gingerly running his hands under my sweater so he can lift it over my head. A half smile creeps up his face as he takes in the hot pink bralette I’m wearing.
He takes a half step closer, then presses the pad of his thumb over my nipple where it’s poking through the fabric. He rubs his thumb over it in a circle before pinching it and moving on to the other nipple.
“Miles,” I groan, desperate for more. He loves to tease me, but I’m not sure I can handle slow tonight. Not this kind of slow. Our naked bodies slowly writhing together, taking each other higher with each kiss or tiny touch? That I can get behind, but I need something more than this. “Please,” I beg. Beg. Whatever. I’ve lost any shame around begging. Especially him. I’ll beg for him over and over again.
He searches my face and seems to sense my urgency, the overwhelming need to feel his skin against mine. And then my bra is over my head and on the floor. I reach for his pants as he pulls mine down, and soon enough we’re tangled under the covers, his hard body rolling over mine.
His kisses are powerful and intoxicating, and he uses them to take control of me. He doesn’t stop kissing me as he strokes his thumb over my clit or when he pushes inside me. No, this man uses every inch of his body to own mine. To please me and show me how deeply he loves me. How he understands me. He teases me, then gives me what I want. He changes his pace to prolong my pleasure. He drags orgasm after orgasm out of me until he can’t hold back anymore and we’re a sweaty, messy heap under the covers, fully satiated and completely spent. And ridiculously, deliriously happy.
Life is ugly sometimes. Heartbreaking and stomach-churning. It can shatter you. Then it can heal you. It can bring you people who mend your soul and fill all the cracks in your heart.
When my mother started slipping away, I believed that was it for me. I’d essentially lost all the people who loved me, and maybe one day, I might have one more—a child. I never imagined I could have an entire family’s worth of people to love me again.
As Miles wraps me in his arms, gratitude courses through me. I never could’ve imagined I’d have him. Someone to love me so deeply it somehow makes life hurt less. I never would’ve believed I’d let it in. But when someone loves like Miles does, it’s impossible not to. I was drawn into the depths of his love and I have no desire to ever leave.
An hour-and-a-half of sex works up an appetite, and I basically had a second dinner when we came back out to the living room. Now we’re wrapped in each other’s arms on the couch under a blanket, me in a robe and knit socks and Miles in gray sweatpants and an undershirt as we get ready to exchange gifts.
Since we didn’t do any big gifts for Christmas this year, we saved them for today. We each picked out two gifts for the other person. I have no idea what to expect from him, but honestly, I’m more excited about one of my presents for him.
Miles grabs the four boxes, all of them small-ish, and sets them in my lap.
“Who first?”
“Me,” I say. “Mostly because I need you to open that one last.” I point to the smallest box.
“Okay. Then you need to start with this one.” He taps the bigger of the two presents, and I unwrap it. What I pull out is a gorgeous leather-bound journal.
My eyes go wide as I run my hand over it. “This is beautiful,” I whisper, opening it up. On the first page is a note from him.
Amelia,
To you, my love, on Valentine’s Day. This may seem like a simple gift, but your heart and your mind are always holding many things. This is a place to set them free.
Whether it’s journals, letters, thoughts, lists, plans, or ideas, this is a place where your beautiful mind can bleed onto the page. Fill it however you like in whatever way brings you peace and joy.
All my love,
Miles
“Thank you,” I breathe. “This is perfect.”
He kisses the side of my head. “I’m glad you like it. You’ve mentioned journaling and writing letters to Emmie, but it could also be something special for when you get your law degree. Whatever you want to use it for, you deserve to have a safe and special place to keep it all.”
I lean up and kiss his cheek. “I love it. And now it’s your turn.”
I hand him the bigger of the two boxes and he opens it, revealing a dark gray stainless-steel watch with a black face and white hands. He doesn’t like keeping his phone on him at work to check the time, but his current watch doesn’t scream business professional. Something about this one reminded me of him. I think because, like this apartment, it feels modern without feeling uptight.
