Page 87 of House of Desire

Miles leads me from the dining room and I am counting down the last twenty minutes of this date to get me back to my house. We walk across the parking lot and he grabs my hand, linking our fingers. I look down at my hand in confusion.

“I had a great time,” he says and I look at him like he might have gotten a concussion between the table and here. There’s no way he enjoyed that date.

“The dinner was great,” I hedge.

We arrive at his car, but instead of going around to his side, he gives me a dazzling smile.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

“My husband is going to be thrilled with the decisions we’ve made. And thank you, again, for meeting me here tonight. I know it was out of your way.”

My anxiety has been at an all-time high since I saw Anya walk in with Miles Lawson. I might have pushed her toward him, but I was hoping that she wouldn’t go. Because I’m a selfish bastard.

And I know I need to get out of here and do damage control. There’s no way she didn’t think I was on a date.

“I’m always happy to work around your schedule, Mrs. Day. I’m glad the court case worked out for your clients. I will get Mitchel on all of these items. In two months, you should be moving into your forever home.”

She claps and bounces in her chair as I signal the waiter to bring our check. My leg is bouncing as I give them my credit card and get the bill taken care of.

“Are you ready?” I ask as I sign the receipt. I look up and see Anya’s back as she heads out to the parking lot with Miles.

“Yes! I need to get home.”

I get up from the table, holding out my hand to help her to her feet. Mrs. Day starts moving through the tables as I trail after her. The sky is dark outside of the lights in the parking lot. Anya is pressed against a white car as we walk by.

“Have a great night,” I say, at the same time as I hear Miles ask if he can kiss Anastasia. It takes everything in me not to jump into the situation and tell him she’s mine.

“See you later,” Mrs. Day says before getting into her car and pulling out without any hesitation. Miles Lawson moves close to Anastasia.

“No, I’m sorry. I just don’t think this is going to work. I wish you all the best, though,” Anya says, and my heart soars as her eyes catch mine over Miles’s shoulder.

“Okay, sure thing. Do you still want me to take you home? Or I can pay for a ride share for you and wait until it’s here.”

“That’s okay, Miles. I’ve got her,” I say against my better judgment.

Miles spins on his heel and takes me in. I see the moment when he recognizes me from the bakery.

“If that’s not what Anya wants—” he starts until Anya cuts him off.

“It’s fine. He’s a friend. I don’t want to put you out. Thank you for a lovely dinner,” she says, putting her arms around him in an awkward hug, “and have a great night.”

“Sure. You too,” he says, and gets into his car. Anya turns to me.

“Where’s your date?” Anya asks, the hint of jealousy warming me like a fire in the middle of winter.

“That was a work meeting. She is a lawyer and had to move the location of our meeting due to a mediation that went long. She hadn’t eaten all day and wanted to grab dinner. She’s married.” I reach out and push back a piece of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. “You’re beautiful when you’re jealous.”

She scoffs and crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m not jealous. Maybe you’re projecting.”

I can feel my cheeks stretch at the smile that lie brings to my face. “I’ll go ahead and admit I was jealous. But I know I wasn’t the only one.”

Her eyes scan me and my work pants and tight button-down. Hunger, hot and crazed, enters her gaze, and I know we have about ten seconds before we are on each other. Grabbing her hand and leading her back to my truck, I thank every star in the sky I’m parked in the far back corner with bushes on two sides. I open the back door and shove her into the back seats, following behind her. The truck shakes as I slam the door, but I don’t care because she already has her breasts bared to me, her chest heaving. A flush creeps up from her chest and I can’t take it anymore. I have to taste it.

“We’re still just friends,” she tells me.

Her skin is soft against my tongue as her nails scratch against my scalp, sending chills down my spine and thickening my cock more than it already was. I’m straining against my pants, but I can’t take my mouth off her long enough to free myself.

“Got it,” I mumble against her neck.

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