Page 122 of The Girlfriend Zone

Relief washes over me, followed by something brighter, sharper. “I don’t either,” I say, and it’s hard being vulnerable. Truly hard, but how could I be anything else with him when he lays himself bare?

He leans forward, resting his forehead against minebriefly before he pulls back. “Then don’t go home tonight.”

I laugh softly. “You’ve still got the dogs. You need my help, of course.”

“Exactly. I have them till Sunday night. Stay and help me with them,” he says, his grin turning wicked. His eyes make it clear we both know that’s not why he wants me to stay.

I hesitate for a moment, wondering what happens aftera few more days. Questions about the future circle me, but they always do. The future is my albatross, so I bat them aside. I narrow in on the present, weighing the practical risks instead. But really, there aren’t many. Who would know the difference? No one. No one has to know where I stay.

“Yes,” I say, my voice firm. “On one condition.”

He arches a brow. “I give you countless orgasms?”

“That’s a given,” I shoot back. “But I’m walking the dogs, and I’m cleaning. You’re not getting in my way.”

“Who’s bossy now?” he teases, his eyes sparkling.

“Let me take care of something for once,” I say, softer this time.

His grin fades into something gentler, and he dips his head to kiss me. “You’re making this hard for me.”

Well, that I can’t resist. I slide a hand over his lounge pants. And hello! He’s at half-mast. “I see I am.”

A rumble-growl crosses his lips. “I’ll walk the dogs with you.”

I squeeze his growing erection, then stand my ground. “But I’m cleaning.”

With a happy sigh, he relents. “Fine.”

“Also, thanks for breakfast,” I say as I slide to myknees, tug on the waistband of his lounge pants, then lick my lips.

His mouth curves up, and he pushes off the stool in seconds flat. “I bet you’d like me to fuck your throat, Shutterbug.”

He knows me too well. I want to be manhandled. I want to be pushed around. “Only if you pull on my hair while you do it,” I say, giving it right back to him.

His eyes darken to flames. I swear I can see lust radiating off his whole body, like an electrical charge. “You and your dealmaking.”

“You love my dealmaking.”

He pauses for a weighty beat, holding my gaze, then says, “I really fucking do.”

It feels like he’s talking about more than a blow job, but for now I focus on the task at hand. Or mouth, really.

I peel down his boxer briefs, his hard cock showing off how ready he is. I kiss the tip, lightly, feather soft.

Then I open wide, grab his hip, and urge him to fuck my throat. Miles doesn’t hesitate. He threads one hand through my hair near my temple, yanking and tugging while filling my mouth.

Exactly how I want him to.

He’s in control, but really, when I play with his balls, drag my nails down his thighs, and squeeze his ass, I’m pretty sure I’m the one in charge.

And the sounds he makes when he comes, the grunts, the groans, the long, carnal growl of my name, tell me how good this deal is for both of us.

Not going to lie—the dog walk is kind of wonderful. It’s almost like a date, but I know it’s safe. I’m just his dog-sitter, after all. No reason we can’t be seen walking them together, if anyone even notices. But I don’t think anyone does.

Besides, it’s impossible to hold hands when you’re managing the leashes of four tiny terrors. By the time we get them home, I need to head to the beach for the Renegades’ volunteer cleanup event. They hired me to take photos, so it’s a work thing, but still—it feels good to be doing something meaningful.

At the door, there’s this awkward moment. How exactly does this work? Do we make plans for later here at his house? Since, well, that’s all we can do. He’s heading out to a luncheon with a sponsor, and I have a shoot. But before I can overthink anything, he says, “Any chance you’d want to meet at High Kick when you’re done with your thing and I’m done with mine?”

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