Page 127 of Catching Feelings

?CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

MILES

This is bliss. Chilling on the couch with Rowan with not a care in the world other than to be with her.

Her foot twitches in my lap as I accidentally find a ticklish spot and return to rubbing her tired soles. She’s entranced by the cooking show, and I study her. Eyes, big and enraptured in the chicken recipe some hot-shot chef is cooking. I love us like this.

No spotlight. No show to impress fans or the media. Just Row and me hanging out like an old married couple. How could anyone tire of the simplicity of just hanging with the love of their life?

Rowan has had my heart in her hands from day one and, for some wild reason, is in love with me. I still can’t wrap my head around that. She is perfect. Sweet, humble, beautiful...and I’m, well, me.

Son of a murderer. Is that kind of shit genetic? Her family isn’t the greatest, but they never made headlines like mine.

Husband shoots wife in a drunken rampage in front of ten-year-old son.

When I told Rowan about my father, I may have glossed over how badly witnessing my mother’s murder affected me, but Rowan didn’t need me to spell it out for her. She didn’t treat me any different that weekend.

Granted, the following morning she discovered I was Adam86. It was that lie that made her look at me differently, not that I may have murderous genes running through my blood.

Not that I really believe that’s a thing. But still. I don’t want my ugly past to taint someone so perfect. So beautiful. So pure.

“Miles,” she says, her voice like a melody, making my name sound softer than it has any right to, “Are you okay?”

God, I can’t get over how gorgeous she is. Even when she’s just wearing an old sweatshirt—mine—and too big sweats—also mine—hair in a messy ponytail, she looks like she stepped out of a fairy tale. Meanwhile, I probably look like a sweaty dog that has just been through a rainstorm.

Marathon sex will do that to you.

After lasting a little longer than the projected ten seconds, I carried Rowan to my room, where we made slow, sweet, magical love. Call me corny, but that’s what it was, and I couldn’t care less if the guys razz me for being a bitch. Not that I’d share any of my time with Rowan with them.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, I’m great. Totally fine. Just thinking,” I stammer, then add, “About how much of a lucky fucker I am.”

She laughs, the sound light and airy, like I’m a funny little pet instead of the guy who gave her a handful of orgasms last night—possibly six? I lost count. I can’t help but smile. That’s the thing with her, she makes me feel good. Even when I act like a dork. Especially when I act like a dork.

I scoot a little closer, pulling her legs over mine. I feel my heartbeat pick up, which is dumb. It isn’t like I’m going to run a 40-yard dash or anything, but still. I need to pull it together.

“Okay, so here’s the thing,” I start, clearing my throat dramatically.

She raises an eyebrow, trying not to smile too wide. “Uh-oh. When you start with ‘here’s the thing,’ I know I’m in trouble.”

I grin. “Yeah, well, I’m about to drop someseriouswisdom on you, so buckle up, buttercup.”

I pause for effect, but she just gives me thatI’m seriously waitinglook, which only makes me want to mess with her even more.

“Is this awould you rather eatwith the nastiest non-food type of items?”

See? She gets me, and she’s not even mad about it. I thought I fucked up last night with my grossness. I mean, come on. Buckets of cum? I just had the best sex of my life with the woman of my dreams and I sounded like a drunk fraternity punk.

“Alright,” I say finally, getting serious but trying not to sound too serious because I’m bad at serious. “I think you’re too good for me.”

She blinks. “What?”

I cringe, waving my hands around like I’m trying to catch a shitty pass. “No, no, wait, don’t—let me explain. I don’t mean it likethat.What I mean is...you’re this amazing, kind, beautiful person who spends her days taking care of people, saving lives, making the world better, and I’m just...well, I’m just a guy who catches a ball for a living, and makes dumb jokes, and—"

“Miles,” she interrupts, her voice soft but with an edge of disbelief. “Stop. You’re being ridiculous.”

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