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He secures me to him and rests his chin on top of my head, nuzzling in. Miles’s hugs are always perfect, but this one feels significant. I’ve never felt so cared for as I do in this moment—like no matter what else happens, he has me.
We stay like this for a long time, neither of us caring that we’re putting on a hugging show for the McMansion residents. Miles runs one hand over my back, calming me as if he’s spreading good endorphins into my skin. I soak it up.
After a while, I tilt my chin to gaze up, up, up into his eyes.The affection shining there leaves me breathless. It’s overwhelming, like I can’t possibly hold this much tenderness inside me.
This is not the look of one friend comforting another. This is more.
This is everything.
Eliza’s advice comes back to me, too:Just do.
“Miles,” I whisper. “Will you kiss me?”
He takes a deep, slow breath. “As friends?”
He puts no judgment in his tone. No sarcasm. No pressure. He’s asking me what I want.
I could still pretend practice kissing is a thing friends do. Avoid admitting the truth and stay in this safe zone where I’m not risking anything. But that’s not what I want to do.
“Not as friends.”
His fingertips dance along my hairline, smoothing strokes from my temples to my jaw. His gaze roams over my face, warming my skin like a caress. His focus finally lands on my mouth. I am nothing but nerve endings lit up to spell one word:Miles.
He bends down and brushes his lips to the corner of my mouth, right where he kissed me last night. Then the other side. Now one cheekbone followed by the other. My eyebrows. The tip of my nose. Each kiss is an achingly soft touch, unraveling me piece by piece as he cherishes every part of my face.
Except my lips. I don’t know if this is a reward or a punishment, but he’s saving the best for last. By the time he pauses his slow journey, I’m a tangle of longing and can barely open my eyes. All I can do is twist my fists into his shirt and pull him closer.
He presses a gentle kiss to my lips, then draws back.
Is that it? Confused, I open my eyes again and am startled by the wall of fire staring back at me. He’swatching me like a starving man looking at his last meal. Like he wants to devour me and only a thin thread of control is holding him back.
“Miles.” It’s plea and demand, praise and rebuke. And he fully answers the call.
He kisses me, and it’s like he’s a new man. Or maybe he’s finally showing me the man he always has been. He slides his fingers into my hair, tilting my head to a better angle as I open up to him. A soft groan rattles out of him as we taste each other, and I know he’s as lost as I am.
I’ve been living vicariously through romance book kisses for years, but this is better than any words on a page. I’ve never had a kiss feel so right. Like we were always meant for this. For each other.
Did I seriously think this man needed kissing practice? He expertly slows our frenzied kiss to something languid, torturing me with achingly soft touches. One hand comes to the small of my back, locking me in place against him.
This ismyMiles. We’ve been friends so long, I thought I knew everything about him. But in this moment, he’s a mystery again. I want nothing more than to investigate, research, and uncover all the sides of him I haven’t seen yet. There is so much left of him to explore, and I want to know it all.
Starting with: how do I get him to groan again?
The very loud, very annoyed sound of a throat clearing reminds us that we’re not, in fact, alone in the world. We’re standing on the street in a community where they have a gate specifically to keep these kinds of shenanigans out. Probably. I don’t know exactly why they need the gate.
We release each other and turn to see a man standing on a walkway in front of the house behind us. I don’t know him, but he seems like a man who’s very familiar with passing judgment on people.
“Sorry,” I call, wrapping one arm around Miles’s waist. “We’re with the Donnelly party around the corner.”
It’s petty, but I don’t mind dinging Dad’s reputation just a touch.
The man grumbles but must think he made his point because he walks back into his house.
I turn back to Miles. While I would love to continue making out like fools and figuring out this new side of our relationship, I also wouldn’t put it past my dad’s neighbors to call the cops on us for indecent behavior or something.
“What do we do now?” I ask. It’s a little too open-ended, but I’ll take any answer.
“I want to do some matchmaking of my own.” He pulls his phone from his pocket and thumbs around for a minute.
