Just a Bit Dirty (Straight Guys #10)(29)

Miles chuckled, trying to act as though his face wasn’t burning. “What can I say? I’m very likable.”

Ian snorted, stroking his knuckles. “You are, or you would have been fired weeks ago.”

Miles grinned at him, their gazes locked. Christ, there was something about looking into Ian’s blue eyes that made their interactions intoxicating, his heart pounding, his fingers trembling, and his body on edge. He’d never felt so good with another person, comfortable with them to the point that all he wanted was to be closer to them. He wanted to fuse their personal spaces until they had just one for the two of them. He wanted his personal space to be Ian’s.

Fuck, his own thoughts and wants weirded Miles out. It felt as if he were drunk, his inhibitions non-existent, no matter what his brain tried to tell him. It felt like he could say anything to Ian, could ask anything from him.

That was how Miles found himself saying, “I want to get in your lap.”

Ian just stared at him for a moment before patting his own knee slightly.

Miles had never moved so fast. He crawled into Ian’s lap, buried his face against his throat, and clung to him like a monkey.

“I feel so strange, Ian,” he murmured, his hands roaming all over Ian’s wide shoulders and strong arms under that light-blue shirt. “I’m not sure what the hell is wrong with me. I never felt like this.”

Ian laughed, not unkindly. “It’s called attraction,” he said, his fingers threading through Miles’s hair.

“I’m not stupid, I know that,” Miles said, his eyes slipping shut as he nuzzled Ian’s throat. How did this man smell so good? “But I feel—I feel so out of control, like I’d do anything you want as long as you keep touching me.”

Ian made a strange sound, something between a groan and a laugh.

Miles nibbled on his neck, trying to squirm closer to him, painfully aware of his half-hard prick poking Ian in the stomach. “Is this weirding you out?”

“Less than it probably should,” Ian said, his hand stroking along Miles’s back through the thin t-shirt he was wearing. His strong fingers felt magical against Miles’s spine.

Shivering, Miles squirmed again, torn between wanting to be closer to that hand and wanting to be closer to Ian’s chest. “Ian,” he whispered, frustrated.

And because Ian was apparently a mind reader, he tugged Miles’s t-shirt off, and then unbuttoned his own shirt, letting it fall open, revealing his broad, muscular chest that tapered to a narrow waist and hard abs. He was beautifully built, all man.

Miles immediately pressed close, nearly moaning at the contact of their bare chests, from the feeling of Ian’s sparse chest hair against his skin. Fuck, this felt so good, but it wasn’t nearly enough. He felt oversensitive, his skin on fire wherever they were touching, but it somehow still wasn’t enough.

Miles was only distantly aware that he was making sounds, shameless and needy, as he squirmed in Ian’s arms, seeking friction and skin, wanting more. Ian was so warm, and firm, and he smelled amazing… God… Miles felt so worked up that he could no longer tell right from left, his mind hazy with raw want. He wanted—he wanted—

“Shh,” Ian said, stroking his back up and down. “What do you want?”

“You,” Miles murmured against Ian’s throat, breathing in his scent like an addict and unable to get enough of it. “Anything you want.”

He felt Ian’s muscles stiffen. He cradled Miles’s face and tipped it up, forcing him to look him in the eye.

“Listen,” Ian said, his blue eyes intent and serious. “‘Anything you want’ is a bad answer. Trust me on this.”

“Why?” Miles said, rubbing his cheek against Ian’s hand.

The look Ian gave him was a mix of irritated, exasperated, and something else. “Because I’m not a very good man. I can get carried away. Really carried away.”

“Don’t care,” Miles murmured, kissing Ian’s fingers with trembling lips. It was difficult to keep his eyes open. “I feel so good with you. I trust you. I know you’ll make me feel good, no matter what you do.”

Ian’s nostrils flared. “Jesus fucking Christ. It’s like you were created to push all the wrong buttons in me.” His hand gripped Miles’s chin hard, his gaze heavy and exhilaratingly intense. “This is not safe, Miles. You’ll need a safe word. Pick one.”

Miles said the first word that came into his head, “Book.”

Ian gave a clipped nod. “Good enough. If you want me to stop, you’ll say it. If you want me to stop but can’t talk for some reason, you’ll touch your nose.”

Miles licked his lips. “But what if I’m unable to do either?” What if I’m tied up and gagged?

A muscle flexed in Ian’s jaw. “We’ll discuss it beforehand if such a situation occurs.”

Miles scrunched up his nose. “I think discussing things first takes all the fun out of them. I trust you not to hurt me. Shouldn’t it be enough?”

Ian’s expression was almost pained. “No,” he said tightly. “I’m not kidding when I say that you push all my buttons.” Those eyes seemed to sear Miles. “Think about it this way: I want to fuck you up so badly that I don’t even care anymore about your sex. So I’m not exactly at my most rational around you.”