Page 65 of Catching Feelings

My body relaxes and I hold back my laugh. I should have figured Miles wouldn’t bring up anything serious. That’s not who he is, and while I usually prefer being in a mature relationship, being with Miles is refreshing.

I clear my throat and start, “I can see how this could be controversial. As a nurse, I’m intrigued but I have some clarifying questions.”

“Of course you do.” Miles laughs and leans over and kisses the top of my head. “Ask away, Doc.”

“First, can the third appendage be removed or is it there for eternity?”

“For such an intelligent, beautiful woman, that’s a stupid question. Of course it can’t be removed. It’s your birthright. A piece of your identity. Why in God’s name would you want it removed?”

“Silly me. I apologize for being an idiot.”

“Guess beauty and brains don’t go together.”

My cheeks hurt from smiling. “I believe you called me an intelligent woman.”

“That was before the dumb question. Got any more up your sleeve?”

“Not anymore since you put me in my place.”

“Good. No more stalling. Answer the question.”

We turn the corner and head toward the park where the paths are lit up by streetlights. “I’m going to have to go with the extra toe. I don’t have as much of a shoe obsession as Kendall, and I’m usually wearing sneakers or orthopedic shoes, which would hide the monstrosity of my ugly feet.”

“You saying a lot of people see your nipples on the regular?”

“My nipples are always covered up.”

“That’s a shame.”

Ignoring the zinging rush that flows from our joined hands to my core, I ask, “I take it you’d go with the third nipple.”

“Obviously. I mean, two nipples are fantastic, but a third.” He lets out a low moan. “One for each hand and one for my mouth.”

Oh, geesh. I squeeze my thighs together, which is hard to do when walking next to Miles, whose legs are twice as long as mine.

He rambles on about different sizes and colors of nipples while I try to gain my bearings.

“You okay, Rowan? You got awfully quiet and a little stumbly.”

“Stumbly?”

“Like walking is a challenge. Maybe an extra toe would help with your balance?” The laughter in his eyes tells me he knows exactly why I’m struggling with my balance.

Ignoring his taunt, I direct us back to his silly game. “You’re talking about a third nipple on someone else, not yourself.”

“Notsomeoneelse,” his voice is deep and has an edge of lust to it while he stares down at me.

I glance up at him then return my focus to the sidewalk in front of us. “Well, we’re talking about extra body parts onus.Which would you rather have onyou?”

“Which one would you like me to have?”

His nipple argument is solid. And while I’ve never really thought about a man’s nipples before, I can’t stop picturing Miles’s. Which makes me think about his chest and his corded abs. I swallow my lust and say with as much seriousness I can muster, “You’re evading. Answer the question.”

Miles chuckles. “Yes, ma’am. Nipples all the way. Nipples for everyone. You. Me. Well, I could give two shits about anyone else, but how cool would it be if we had matching third nipples?”

This conversation has taken a turn down to obscurity, as do most conversations with Miles. “Maybe we should get matching nipple tattoos,” I joke.

He stops in his tracks, and my arm yanks back. I fall into his chest and he wraps his arms around me. “Rowan McDaniels, you’re a genius. Yes, if we can’t do the impossible and grow a third nipple, we should most definitely get matching nipple tattoos.”

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