Page 142 of Promise Me Sunshine

He looks seriously torn but then he’s lying out over top of me to reach the bedside drawer. He produces a condom and we momentarily battle for it.

“Please.” I say the magic word and he closes his eyes in pain. He hands me the condom and leans up, bracing two hands on the wall behind me while I shimmy his underwear down and carefully, lovingly sheathe him.

I’m coming back for you, buddy,I silently promise his dick, but then I get distracted because he’s laying me down, guiding my legs around his back so that I can hold him with my entire body.

He kisses my mouth open, uses one hand to guide himself to the right place between my legs. He holds my eyes.Please.He pushes in and it’s everything, everything, everything.

I stretch and slide and open to make way for him and he doesn’t stop pushing his way in. His eyes are reading me, his body powerful and gentle, demanding and giving. Ourtemples press together. When I think he’s fully seated I gasp and let my head fall back to the pillow. And then he sinks in the final inch.

“That’s right,” Miles groans against my throat. His praise has me flushing, proud, I want more of everything. I tell him so and am rewarded with a slicing smile, his eyes on mine, one strong arm scooping my hips even closer.

Thumpgoes Miles’s body against mine.

Thumpgoes the headboard against the wall.

Thumpgoes my heart in my chest.

His style of sex is slow and steady and thorough and patient andof coursethis is how he has sex.

Some people are Ferraris. Miles is a Mack truck. He seems to want to restrain himself and he almost can, until his body forces him to thrust and he gives me everything he can’t hold back. I hold him as tight as I can, I ask for more, I grab the headboard when he gives it to me.

He’s methodically working me up the bed and finally, his protective hand is the only thing between my skull and hardwood and I’ll bet his knuckles will end up bruised because he can’t stop giving. Giving in. Giving it up. Giving it all to me.

I climb with him and reach between us to use my own hand, free-falling before he does. He pulls back from my shoulder to watch me and then goes rigid against me, still pumping, volcanic, inexorable.

Chapter Thirty-Three

An hour later we’re in the shower and I finally get to see 2-in-1 as God intended it. Miles is wearing a crown of suds that’s only getting bigger the more he scrubs.

“Your poor hair.”

He frowns at me, still scrubbing. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

“You might as well just use nail polish remover.”

“Huh?”

“First order of business as your lov-ah,” I say, and grin when he grimaces, “is to get you on the conditioner train.”

“There’s conditioner in 2-in-1! It’s half of the 2.”

“Why don’t you use those?” I ask, pointing to the bottles of shampoo and conditioner he once used on my hair after dunking me in the sink.

“They’re yours.”

I blink at him. “They’re mine? You bought shampoo for me, like, two months ago? How’d you know I’d be showering with you, you pervert?”

He laughs and elbows me out from under the water to rinse the suds off his head. “I wasn’t plotting to get you to showerwith me.But you already had a toothbrush in my cup. You were already switching my toilet paper to your preferred setting. You were sleeping on my couch and eating my food. I thought a shower was highly probable. Get back under the water, you look freezing.”

He snicks open the shampoo bottle and hands it to me. I wince getting my haircut wet and gently massage my aching hair.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, eyeing me carefully.

“My scalp is getting used to its new reality.”

He gives me a naked, soapy hug. “I’mstill getting used to the new reality.”

I rinse and he hands me the conditioner next.

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