Page 133 of Two Guys, a Girl, and a Tripod

“How was I?”

“You were a very,” I meet his gaze, “verygood boy.”

“What can I do for you now?”

“You don’t think that’s enough?”

“I want to break our record.” He shakes his head. “And then break it again.” He kisses one knee and then the other. “And again. And again.”

“Oh boy, you’re gonna be trouble this morning, aren’t you?”

“Only if you’ll let me.”

“How can I say no to that?” I grip his chin and pull him up to kiss him, tasting myself on his lips and moaning in approval.

“Please,” he whispers against me. “I need you to sit on my face.”

I pull back in surprise. The other night, with Brody, I was essentially hovering. My weight fell on my knees on either side of his head, not on his nose and mouth.

“Are you s-?”

He cuts me off with a finger against my lips.

“Don’t you ever ask me that again,” he growls. “If I ask you to sit on my face, I want you to sit on my fucking face.”

“Then I suppose we should move to the bed,” I whisper against his finger.

Miles helps me out of the tub, drying me with a towel. While the water still clings to his body, he focuses on wiping every drop from mine. When he’s finished focusing on me, he wipes his arms and chest quickly, impatiently.

“You’re in charge,” he reminds me when I don’t lead the way to the bedroom.

This is one of the few times I wish I was skinnier, imagining how it would feel if he could pick me up and just carry me to the damn bed the way the men in romance books do with skinnier heroines. Miles must see my hesitation because he growls out a question that floods me with relief and excitement.

“Do I just need to throw you over my shoulder and take you to the bed?”

“How much can you lift?”

“How much do you weigh?”

“That’s not very polite to ask,” I shoot back.

“I think polite went out the window three shoots ago.”

He studies my face a moment more before grunting and bending over to wrap his arms around my legs. He swings me up and over his shoulder, earning a squeak from me.

“Miles!”

“You didn’t give me an order and we don’t have all day.” He stomps out of the bathroom and over to the bed, throwing me–literallythrowingme–down onto the mattress. “You ready to smother me?”

“Get down here.” My confidence is back, fueled by the fact thathe threw me over his fucking shoulder.

“Anything you say.”

It takes me another hour to make it back to my own hotel room. When I leave Miles’ room to get ready, my legs can barely hold me. It’s going to be a long day.

Miles and I join the throng waiting outside the hall for the rigging demonstration. Hearing our porn names called, we look back to see Talia heading toward us, wearing a short black skirt and cropped, white tank top. Her Converse are far more practical than the heels she wore yesterday and her hair is pulled back in a ponytail.

“Hey!” she shouts over the din of the crowd as she joins us. “I’m so excited for this demo.” She’s practically bouncing on her toes.

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