Page 43 of Falling

“Whoa, it’s nothinghorrible.The only horrible thing about you is that I can’t spend every minute by your side.” I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to how smooth he is. How easy it is for him to say these things and expect me to act normal about it. He leans forward and I do, too, and he finally whispers, “You’re a very stubborn person, Wren Hackerly.”

I roll my eyes, but I still stay close to him. “Tell me something I don't know, genius.”

“See, you refuse to be nice to me. You were putting up a fightabout doing this until you realized how irresistible I am, and now look at us.”

“And how well is this working out for us so far?”

He frowns, clearly not finding my joke funny. “Wrenny baby, we hadonesetback and?—”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Andwe’ve been outonetime. It’s going to take a while for us to get used to being around each other like that. Especially if you’re so committed to not liking me.”

“I know,” I say with a sigh, “I just really want this to work.”

“And it will,” he says, and he has the audacity to wink at me before leaning back in his seat, crossing his arms against his chest. “Just trust me.”

We continue askingeach other more questions on the drive home, and I find out that his favorite quality about me is that I’m not easy to win over like the girls he’s been with in the past. I thought that was stupid because I’m actively trying not to let myself get caught up in him. It’s like he’s put some pathetic spell on me that makes me itch to be with him. I tell him about the upcoming showcase and how I can’t wait to get my leotard back from my designer that Scarlett hooked me up with.

As he drives me back, he points out where his house is, and I’m only just realizing how close it is to my apartment. It’s almost like he’s been hiding in plain sight this whole time.

When we park, he insists on walking me to my door, and he talks the entire time.

“Should I buy you a muzzle for Christmas? You really need to learn how to shut up,” I mutter when we step out of the elevator.

“I’m sure we could have a lot more fun with that than you think,” he murmurs, bumping his arm into mine.

“Okay, I have a question for you, loverboy.” We get to my apartment door, and I lean against it. Miles raises his eyebrows for me to continue. “What’s your love language?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Okay,” I whistle, “So, physical touch. Got it.”

He smiles. “What about you?”

“Physical touch and words of affirmation,” I say, and my body tingles for no other reason than I haven’t had sex in eight months. Or maybe it was the feel of Miles's hand on my stomach at the party. He studies me for a second, and my cheeks flush. “What? Do you think I’m lying?”

He steps closer to me, dipping his head toward the side of my face, his mouth close to my ear. His hot breath tickles my throat. His thumb traces small ovals from the sensitive part of my collarbone to the side of my neck, where I’m sure he can hear my pulse hammering. I take in a shaky breath, my legs suddenly ready to give out beneath me.

“No, I’m not surprised. I heard the noise you made when I touched you earlier,” he murmurs, each syllable reverberating through my body.

“And what noise was that?” I ask.

“You moaned like you haven’t been fucked in years, baby,” he whispers, and I hate how right he is. I hate how sensitive my skin is and how in tune it was with his body. I close my eyes before placing my hands on his chest, gently pushing some space between us.

“You just called me ‘baby.’ Non-ironically, might I add?”

Miles grins. “Sure did, baby.”

I shudder and pretend to gag. “I think I just threw up in my mouth a little.” He laughs, shaking his head. “If you call me baby, I'm going to call you Milesy.”

“Call me whatever you want, baby. 'Daddy' is also acceptable,” he replies, smirking. I laugh at him and shove him in the arm, and he laughs too. There’s something so carefree about laughing with him, and a huge part of me wishes I had this earlier when I really needed it.

When we calm down, I say, “I had a good time today. Shitty food and all.”

“Me too, but I don’t think the food was that bad.”

“This is why we changed your diet,” I say, patting him on the chest. I push the door from behind me, keeping it open with my foot. “Good night, Milesy.”

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