Page 77 of The Loves We Lost
I chuckle from my chair on the patio and look at him sitting on the steps to the yard. “For as long as you keep scoring her.”
“Why is she not asking you?”
“Because I established rules. When Momma’s working, we don’t get continuous scoring.”
It’s been nice having Miles here for three days as he recovers. The first thirty-six hours, he barely left the bed, and when he did, it was to visit the bathroom. Thankfully there were no permanent injuries. According to Switch, his ribs appeared to be bruised rather than broken. His body is a patchwork of blue and purple and yellow.
Switch and Niro left two days ago, but they were replaced by three prospects who booked rooms at a nearby motel and keep watch over the house on rotation. This is the first day he’s fully made it up and into the yard, if you count getting to the back deck as actually leaving.
But I have this sense of impermanence. My usual routine’s a mess. And when I look down at my partially written outline for my next book, I know I’m going to have to seriously return to work at some point.
“What are you working on?” Miles asks as he lifts his face to the sun. The swelling around his eyes has begun to recede. He elatedly told me this morning that the sight in his previously sealed-up eye was working again.
“What Ishouldbe working on is my own sergeant at arms for Fortune’s club. But I keep thinking of Spark and Iris, and it’s clouding my creativity. And now I’m super interested to learn more about Switch. I haven’t written a medic yet, mainly because I knew it was going to be a lot of research. But now that I have one on hand, I want to know more about him, his background, and how he came to be in the club.”
He turns on the step to face me. “How far does this interest in Switch go?”
“As far as the eighty thousand words I need to write for the next book.”
“Can we go inside?” Miles asks.
“Why?”
“Because I have a sudden urge to remind you who you belong to,” he mutters.
The frustration in his voice makes me laugh. “Ok, caveman.Belong tois a strong stance. And no, we can’t go inside because you don’t leave a five-year-old on her own while she’s cartwheeling into water.”
“Cute little cockblocker.”
“Six years,” I say quietly, reminding Miles how long I’ve been celibate with the exception of recent events. “I feel your pain.”
“I want you to be feeling something altogether different. And my dick gets my vibe, finally.”
“Why finally?”
“Because that first night, when you came out of the bathroom teasing me in those pj’s with the little shorts and top in baby pink, I thought about how hot you looked, but my dick wasn’t getting involved at all. Thought the fuckers might have broken it. But right now, it’s telling me it’s game.”
“Miles,” I chide.
“What, it’s true. Can you get Avery a playdate?”
I look over at his bruised body. “You’re a mess and should probably be saving your energy for recovery.”
Miles grins, and I was always a sucker for his dimples. “I feel like some adults-only time might get endorphins flowing, and I’m no medic, but I bet they’ll help with recovery too.”
“I’m not sleeping with you again. It only complicates things.”
Miles eases himself up to standing and takes a seat on the chair next to me. He places his hand on my thigh and eases it high enough until his pinkie finger rubs against my clit through my shorts. “I think you and I both know that’s a lie, buttercup.”
“I don’t know anything of the sort.”
His finger presses a little more firmly, and I look over to where Avery is dropping one of her dolls into the water.
“Miles,” I whisper.
“Yes?”
“No.”
