Page 1 of Miles Apart
Chapter 1
Emma
“Do you have to go?”
I glance up at doe eyes in the mirror and bite back a smile. West waits for me to change my mind, and for a brief moment I allow myself to entertain the thought that he wants me to stay for more than my body.
He’s cute—adorable, even—but he has much to learn.
My attention falls back to the concealer in my hand. It will be a miracle if I don’t walk out looking like a yellow highlighter. This lighting is awful, even for a standard hotel room decorated in three shades of beige. I drop makeup into my overnight bag and adjust the strapless sweater dangling off my shoulder. “I had a good time last night,” I say.
Gracious tongue.
Steady strokes.
Four out of five stars.
West sits up in bed with a grin too big for a woman about to leave him. The tartan duvet pools at his waist, showcasing an array of lean muscles engraved into tanned ivory skin.
“So let’s do it again,” he begs, his lower lip dipping into a pout. There’s a lightness in his tone, one mixed with confidence and the hope that his ability to please is enough to keep me here. Firm hands tatted at the forearms push the rest of the decorative pillows to the floor. West leans against the wooden headboard and spreads his legs to stroke his length over the sheets.
Tempting.
Men in their twenties are wild cards. Most fuck with the intensity of a jackrabbit, which is why I keep them at bay. Not this one. West was a pleasant surprise who didn’t let direction hurt his ego. Guys my age could learn from him. Even at twenty-nine, five years younger than me, he took the time to discover what pleased me instead of what got him off.
West and I met at the kickoff mixer for the weeklong singles’ retreat. I’m not here for the hope of a happily ever after. I’m here for dick and to pull my best friend out of the fortress of her home back in Austin. She’s on her way to divorce, but that doesn’t mean life is over.
Justice’s night ended exactly as expected. She took one look at people on the prowl for love and lust before she headed up to our suite and spent the night with room service.
I had other plans.
West caught my eye behind the bar across the crowded room. It didn’t take long for our stares to linger before I sat on the stool in front of him. We exchanged names while he made my martini. His forearms flexed under the rolled sleeves of his white button-down. The lust in his eyes reflected in mine as our fingers touched on the stem of my glass. We went up to his room after midnight with the promise of orgasms.
A delicious welcome to Vail, Colorado, after a full day of traveling.
Hooded blue eyes pierce mine in a silent plea for me to stay. One night is all I’ll give.
There are the Joan Claytons of the world—women like Justice who color-code their linens and believe in soulmates. I never felt an itch to attach forever to a partner. I’m with the Toni Childs of the world—those who try you on for size before swapping you out with their outfits. Relationships slow you down and expose you to wounds. She tried the “I do,” and look what happened. I’ve seen a loveless marriage up close. Now, I’m witnessing the aftermath of a broken love story with my best friend.
I’ll pass.
The hiss of the zipper on my thigh-high boot breaks our stare. West moves to pull me down when I saunter over to the bed, but he isn’t quick enough. I meant what I said. Last night was enjoyable, but this eagerness for me to stay is why I don’t make a habit of sleeping over.
I saw.
I conquered.
I came—more than once.
“Now, West.” I straddle him for no other reason than to be a tease. “You were good.” My lips press to the shell of his ear. “Let’s see what this week holds. I know where to find you.” I ruffle the dirty blonde waves I gripped when he explored the depths between my thighs, grab my overnight bag, and make my exit without a last glance.
West is a fuck boy in its purest form. He reeks of it, much like his Old Spice deodorant. His boy-next-door good looks and pickup lines might leave others pressed, but not me. I’m not a woman to look for more out of a one-night stand. We take what we need and move on. No idling. No waiting by the phone. No pouting of any kind—a lesson for West to learn fast.
The best way to teach is by example, right?
The front door closes behind me with a soft click. I didn’t expect to sleep with someone this early into the retreat, but what can I say? West is good with his hands, behind the bar and inbed. He had the stamina to match my pace, but when I’m done, I’m done.
I like sex—love it, crave it—and enjoy the act with whatever flavor I want to taste for the night. Sleepovers are usually off the table unless I want seconds. I did with West, but now we can move on.
