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“I love it.” He softly kissed each of my toes while telling me how pretty I was, from the bottom to the top. All over. Everything about me was lovely, sweet, perfect. I’d never been happier about a nail polish choice than I was then.
We came together from a place of hope. Hopefully in love. There was no anger or desperation when removing each other’s clothes, only hope for what the future would bring us as fingers explored and mouths devoured.
Miles settled between my thighs, where he’d told me more than once he hoped he’d die. And though I’d let him live there, lavishing me with his tongue, bringing me wave after wave of pleasure, that wasn’t how I envisioned our end. I saw us old, holding wrinkled hands, watching a final sunset together. He might call me Lydia because he forgot, and I might let him because it reminded me of when we were young.
And just before the end, he’d wink and smile, and I’d close my eyes for the final time, knowing no matter what came after, I’d already had heaven.
“I love you,” I whispered, my heart hammering in my ears.
He answered me with his tongue rolling over my clit and the brush of his fingers along my inner thighs. In my mindless haze of pleasure, I realized the brushes were done with intent, spelling out “love” over and over.
“Love you, love you, love you, love you.” There weren’t enough times I could say it to convey how much I meant it, but I would try.
Miles rode my waves until he drew nothing but whimpers and pleas from me. Kneeling at my feet, he brought one to his mouth and cherished it with his lips and tongue. Once satisfied, he did the same with the other.
There was something about him worshiping a part often forgotten that made me feel like the most special woman in the world. His lips and tongue could have touched any part of me, and I would have reacted, but him kissing the arch of my foot had me scraping at the sheets for an anchor so I didn’t float away.
“Love you, love you, love you, love you.”
He moved over me, rolling us to our sides to curl around me. My shelter.
I opened for him, and he slid into me easily. We took time staying joined but not moving much, staring at each other, saying pretty things, confessing our love again and again. His lips pressed on the crook of my neck, then his teeth joined, a contrast to his soft, gentle affection. If we’d been supernatural, the bite he’d left on me would have tethered us for life.
But we were mere mortals.
And this was the real world.
Even better than I could have imagined.
Our lovemaking was slow and sweet. Whispers and kisses, caresses and kneads. Miles held my face to tell me he loved me. I kissed his lips and breathed his air.
Seven years couldn’t touch what had been created in this handful of months. To be seen, known, accepted, loved so dearly, was not something that came along more than once in a lifetime. We had it. We shared it. And I would protect it like a flame in the wind.
I touched my lips over his thrumming heart and sighed.
He brought my gaze back to his, and between breaths, he smiled at me. I traced the curve of his happiness and applied it to my own mouth. It tasted sweet and distinctly like Miles.
“I love you,” I repeated for the thousandth time.
“I love you,” he said with the same hopeful smile.
He was truly mine.
And I am truly yours.
Chapter Forty
Miles
“We should take Reed on another trip before school starts.” I glanced over at Daisy curled up in my passenger seat, looking at me like she loved me.
Because she did.
If I’d had any doubts, they’d been laid to rest. After realizing my mother was trying to sabotage Grazing, Daisy had had every reason to throw her hands up and tell me it was too much for her—that I wasn’t worth the baggage of a toxic mother. Instead, she’d held me closer. Reminded me at every turn I wasn’t responsible for my mother’s actions and we would figure out our next steps together.
In the days after, I’d been tempted to take action. To call a lawyer, a reporter, to call my fuckwit father. It had taken a call with Weston to calm me. He’d reminded me he hadn’t heard a single word from our mother after the Denver Life article because she was well aware he wouldn’t give her the drama she craved.
So, taking a note from my big brother’s playbook, I remained quiet. It wasn’t easy for a man like me. Luckily, I had the most distracting woman who liked to keep me on my toes.
