Page 82 of Lavish
“Perfect sense. Now promise me.”
I gave a slow, reluctant nod.
“Come here,” he said gently as he went back to sit down on the couch.
I blinked. “What?”
“Just—come here, Serena.”
My eyes narrowed, wary. “Why?”
He didn’t answer right away. He sat, legs wide, elbows resting on his knees. The lamp by the window caught the edge of his jaw.
“Come here and stop asking questions.”
I sucked my teeth, and did as he said, but the moment I sat, he snatched me till I was sitting in between his legs, and I gasped.
“Miles!”
His fingers found the clasp of my necklace like they’d done a hundred times before, and before I could stop him, it was gone—just a cool absence on my skin where gold had been.
He set it gently on the coffee table, then moved to the earrings. “You’ve been wearing these all day. Bet your ears are sore.”
“They’re fine,” I muttered, my voice too soft.
“They’re red,” he said. And just like that, the second earring came off.
I hated how easily he handled me. Not rough. Not demanding. But with that annoying kind of care that made me want to cry and scream and melt all at once. He knew too much—stillknew too much about me.
He leaned in, his breath warm against the curve of my neck. “Relax.”
My body stayed taut, stiff as concrete.
“This isn’t a good idea,” I whispered.
“I know,” he murmured, pressing his palms against my arms. “But you need to breathe.”
I closed my eyes.
His hands slid up, fingers grazing my shoulders, then paused at the base of my neck. He found the first pin in my updo without asking. Slid it out. Then another. Then another.
I swallowed hard. “Miles…why are you doing this?”
He didn’t answer right away.
The pins clinked softly on the table beside us as he removed them one by one, until my curls began to fall loose around my face, wild and uncontained.
“I don’t know.”
“It’s not right,” I said.
“I know.”
My heart squeezed, traitorous and loud. He shifted behind me, drawing me deeper into him, his legs bracketing mine, his chest firm against my back.
Then his fingertips moved to my scalp.
I didn’t expect the tenderness—the slow, circular motion, the exact pressure he knew I liked. My eyes fluttered shut before I could stop them.
