Page 80 of Loving You

We don’t do that.

Hedoesn’t do that.

He looks away quickly as if he’s having the same internal conversation.

I let out a breath.

It’s time for me to go. Two beers are enough for me to do something I shouldn’t.

I start to pull my legs out in the most graceful way possible when Miles grabs the swing.

“Wait.” One of his hands drops to my thigh.

My chest rises and falls quickly. He looks like he’s at war with something now.

He licks his lips and then brings his other hand to my face, cupping my cheek and stroking my bottom lip with his thumb.

I think it’s safe to say that kissing me is at the top of his mind, and if he chooses to do it, I’m not going to stop him. It might not be the best choice to make, but making bad choices seems to be our thing these days.

Then his hand drops from my faceandfrom my leg.

“Thanks for coming over tonight,” he says.

I only nod and force a smile.

He starts nodding, too, never taking his gaze off mine.

The tension in the way he looks at me is almost unbearable.

I break the connection and start to get out again, but Miles stops me again. This time both hands are on my face as he crashes his lips to mine.

His hands are so big that when he slides them back just an inch, his fingers are threading through my hair and gently tugging.

The action makes me moan, which causes him to deepen the kiss. His tongue slips into my mouth, dancing with mine as I reach for him.

This stupid fucking swing is in the way, so I break the kiss, slink through the tire, and stand up straight.

Miles is grinning at me but doesn’t waste any time before he kisses me again. This time, his hands slide to my hips as he backs me up to the tree. He leans his body against mine, his erection pressing into me, and I let out a gasp against his mouth.

This is happening. This is really happening.

Miles Asher is kissing me, and I don’t want him to stop.

But of course, he chooses that exact moment to do just that.

He steps back in a rush, his fingers touching his lips as he studies me.

I’m breathing hard as I watch him back.

He smirks.

“Come on,” he says and takes another step back. “Let me walk you to your door.”

I nod, unsure what I’m supposed to say.

When we get to my apartment, I find myself praying that he kisses me again, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he grabs the handle and slides the door open for me.

---