Page 48 of Miles Apart
“I’m coming to LA. Your father will be there toward the end of the week. I want to see you, Em. Maybe I could—”
“Nah, she’s good.” Miles steps into the room and heads straight for my phone. “Lay your head somewhere else, Crispin.”
“Carter,” he seethes but manages to even out his tone. “Miles. I didn’t peg you as a fashion man.”
Miles chuckles. “I’m not, but I support my lady. Find someone else to bother.”
My lady.
“Since you’re new here, allow me to help you out. Emma doesn’t let anyone spend the night in her house. You should make other arrangements.”
“My stuff is en route as we speak. We’ll get at you once we get back.” With that, Miles hangs up and walks out of the room.
His arrogance will have him six feet under.
“Um, rewind!” I jump up from the bed and storm after Miles, who’s now pouring himself tea from a floral pot that looks like a dollhouse accessory in his paw of a hand. “What the hell was that?”
“What was what?” Miles stirs in sugar and sits on a baby blue chaise lounge. He stretches out, spreading his tree trunks for thighs, with one hand behind his head and the other balancing the tea cup on his leg. The corner of his mouth twitches at my unsubtle glances at his crotch.
Focus off the peen.
“You’re not coming to California, and you sure as hell aren’t moving into my house.”
“Why not?”
“Because!” My hands slam onto my hips. Bare hips. I walk around naked in my house all the time, but I don’t make arguing ass-out a habit.
Miles’s grin dissolves as his gaze makes the steady voyage down my breasts to my navel. His eyes flicker when he reaches my pussy. “Who is Carter to you?”
“My father’s chief of staff.”
He considers my answer, licks his lips, and sips his tea. “You have until the time I finish this before I fuck you against that window.”
My inhale is sharp, but I stand my ground and ignore the threatening flood between my thighs. “Look, I took this further than it needed to go. It was stupid to pretend we’re dating. Go back to Jersey.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Yes,” I say too fast. The damn bulge in his jeans shifts, tempting me to stare.
He nods to himself, finishes his tea, and stands. “Okay.”
“Miles, I’m serious.”
Another nod. The empty tea cup is on the cart. Miles’s steps are slow on his way to me.
“I’ll tell my father we decided to stay friends. You’re off the hook.”
“I was never on one,” he says with a halfhearted shrug and moves closer. “Tell your father or don’t. I made a promise to Zo to be out there.”
“Good.” I suck in air but refuse to break eye contact when he leans down. Miles presses his hand against the wall and takes a slow drag up my neck with his wide nose. “This ends here,” I say. “We go our separate ways once we leave Italy.”
Carter’s call was the dose of reality I needed to snap me the hell out of whatever is going on between me and Miles. We’ve spent more time together in the last month than we have in the last fifteen years. I don’t do attachments, and I’m already questioning why he’s unwilling to share a bed when we’ve spent so much time between each other’s legs.
He lifts his head to pin me with a long stare. “You done yet?”
“We will be in a few days.”
His mouth crashes to mine, and we spend the rest of the day on every surface in the suite. When it’s time for dinner, we order room service. Away from foolish declarations of love and reminders of romance.
