Page 28 of Burn the Script

“He understands my reasons, and I think our relationship could protect him too. If he starts going places with us, people will notice. As long everyone still believes you and I are together, we won’t raise suspicions.”

“Sticking to our story is no trouble for me. I’m committed to my spinster life.” She grabbed my hand and squeezed. “We protect each other. We’re a team, and Miguel is part of it now.”

The bathroom door opened with gusto. “I’m shocked the bidets in these humongous bathrooms aren’t gold-plated.” Miguel’s tight smile set off my internal alarms. I was already sitting up when he shifted his weight to each foot and asked, “Can we go? I’m not feeling well.”

“Of course.”

I bumped knuckles with Maisy and kissed Tatum’s cheek. Their goodbyes and well wishes followed us as I ushered Miguel from the house. The trek was quiet as we reached the gap in the fence, hidden by ivy on Tatum’s side and tall hedges on mine. A breeze rustled the canopy of sycamore and oak on my property, and as soon as we were under its protection, Miguel grabbed my arm.

“Wait a minute. I have something to say.”

In the dappled moonlight breaking through the trees, his face paled, and my heart hammered from the sheer worry consuming me. He searched my gaze with the intensity of someone trying to convey a secret message, but his lips were sealed shut.

I placed my hands on his shoulders. “What is it? You can tell me anything.”

He fisted my sweater and slammed our mouths together. I grunted, stumbling backward into the hedge. Hurried hands slid down my chest and stomach. Fumbling fingers tugged at the waistband of my jeans. He popped the button, and the sound of my zipper ripped through the night.

The urgency felt foreign on him, but it brought out a feral side of me. I clamped a hand on the back of his neck and matched the ferocity of his kiss. Our tongues launched a full-scale attack as he shoved a hand in my boxer briefs and wrapped it around my dick.

I groaned, thrusting against his clammy palm. “What are you up to, darling?”

Miguel paused and stared down at my cock in his fist like he wasn’t sure how it got there. “I’m being spontaneous. Just go with it.”

He dove back into the kiss with vigor, stroking me in a tight grip. I broke away from his lips and nipped at his jaw until he tipped his head to one side.

“You’re tempting me,” I whispered, scraping my teeth above his collar. “Do you feel how badly I want you?”

“Maybe I want you.” He squeezed my dick, hard, and a ragged moan crawled up my throat.

God, I ached for him. After the first night I got on my knees for Miguel, we shared test results and things got more physical. The hand jobs and blow jobs we’d exchanged were incredibly hot. He always took the lead, but he drew a hard line at taking off his clothes. I was desperate to find out what he would do once all the barriers between us were gone.

Keeping my excitement under control, I calmly asked, “Whatever happens next, can we please do it naked?”

With a long, shaky exhale, he closed his eyes and released me. I fixed my clothes while studying his face. His shuttered expression gave no clues about what he was thinking or if he had a change of heart.

“Talk to me.”

“I heard what you said to Maisy and Tate.” His eyes flew open, pummeling me with his uncertainty. A glimmer of warm acceptance also peeked through and softened the blow. “This thing between us…it’s real, isn’t it?”

I cupped his face in both hands and locked on to his gaze. “So very real. And it’s way too special to be called a thing.”

He twisted my shirt in his fingers and yanked me down to him. Our foreheads collided, and he rolled his against mine in a pleading gesture. Like he was begging for a fight and salvation at once.

“Don’t disappoint me, Graham. And don’t you dare break my fucking heart.”

My thumbs grazed his dimples, the hallmarks of his joy. They lit up every room he walked into, and I’d make certain they were always on display.

“May you never forgive me if I do either of those things.”

13

MIGUEL

NOW

Saturday, January 14th

Like many people, my worries consume my thoughts. I obsess over them and stress about them to an unhealthy degree. One thing I’ve never done is sit around and ponder the meaning of life. Philosophical debates are a waste of my time, but the college professor wearing a skinny tie and droning on about a specific literary classic has me questioning my existence. And what I’ve done to deserve the worst attempt at seduction in the history of courtship.