Just a Bit Dirty (Straight Guys #10)(39)

Frowning, Ian kissed the top of Miles’s head absentmindedly, tucking the younger man’s head under his chin. Miles made a contented sound, his tremors subsiding and his breathing evening out. He was still clinging to Ian like a baby koala, but other than that, he seemed to have calmed down.

“Miles?” Ian said quietly, threading his fingers through Miles’s hair. “You okay?”

He felt more than heard Miles nod before the boy lifted his head and smiled at him dazzlingly. “Yeah,” he said, even though his eyes were still suspiciously shiny. “Perfect.”

Ian stared at that smile—at that lovely, flushed face—and thought, Yes, you are. His fingers were itching for his sketchbook. He wanted to capture that smile and that content, satisfied look on Miles’s face.

Miles laughed. “Stop looking at me that way.”

“What way?” Ian said, his arm tightening around him.

“Like you haven’t just fucked my brains out,” Miles said before leaning in to kiss him softly. “I loved this,” he whispered against Ian’s mouth. “I’m so glad it was you.”

Ian kissed him hard, his blood boiling with a strange, primitive feeling that had nothing to do with lust. It was want, but it wasn’t the kind of want that made his cock hard. It was the kind of want that felt deeper, more necessary. He wanted this boy, this young man who had crawled under his skin like a delicious addiction in the short time they’d known each other. He wanted to have him, possess him on every level there was to possess another person without losing himself too. Or maybe that was the problem—he wanted to lose himself in this sweet, incredible human being who somehow managed to sate the insatiable, soul-deep hunger Ian had always carried inside him.

When he finally allowed Miles to break the kiss, Miles’s pupils were dilated again. He was blinking dazedly, as though waking up from a dream, before sighing and putting his head back on Ian’s chest.

“It didn’t work,” he stated.

“What didn’t?” Ian said, his hand finding its way back into Miles’s hair. He couldn’t explain even to himself why he couldn’t seem to stop touching it. Him.

“The sex. It didn’t work. Are you sure the whole ‘fucking someone out of your system’ thing ever works?” Miles looked up at him, wrinkling his nose funnily. “To be honest, I always thought it was a stretch, just an excuse for people to fuck.”

Ian gave a short laugh. “Maybe it sometimes is,” he said. “But it does help. I tend to lose interest in a woman after having her.”

Miles’s gaze became serious. “That’s… a little messed up.”

Ian heaved a sigh. “Don’t look at me that way. I’m not really the fuck ‘em and leave ‘em type. I’ve always tried my damnedest to make my relationships work, but…” There’s something wrong with me. “I can’t seem to. The few infatuations I had never lasted.” He shrugged, looking away. “Maybe I’m not built for relationships.”

Miles hummed thoughtfully. “But do you want one?”

Yes.

The answer that nearly left Ian’s mouth surprised him. He’d thought he’d given up on relationships after Regina, accepting that he would never be able to find a person who would finally fill the bottomless pit in his soul. It looked like he hadn’t. Or it was just harder to remember what that dissatisfied feeling had felt like when he had Miles in his arms.

Or maybe you’re just being a selfish, greedy asshole again. You’re going to take, take, and take until he has nothing left to give you.

Ian clenched his jaw.

Miles ran his fingers along Ian’s jawline lightly. “It’s fine if you don’t want to answer,” he said. “I didn’t want to make you angry.”

“I’m not angry.” Not at you.

Green eyes studied him carefully. “Well, you’re angry at someone.”

Ian closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “If you know what’s good for you, tomorrow you will get on the first flight to London and never come back.”

“Why?”

Ian glared at him. “Do I need to spell it out?”

Miles’s brows were furrowed in something that wasn’t quite confusion. “Yes, actually, I would like it.”

“I don’t want to fuck you up,” Ian said tersely. “You think I’m a better man than I am. I’m not. Trust me, I’m an asshole.”

“If you really were an asshole, you wouldn’t worry about fucking me up,” Miles said, his hand slipping down Ian’s shoulder and tracing the curve of his biceps. “I feel good with you,” he said with painful honesty, meeting Ian’s gaze. “Safe. Like nothing can hurt me when I’m with you.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

Ian stared at him, torn between laughing and kissing this ridiculous, precious human being. “I’m trying to be a good man here, Miles.”

Miles gave him a crooked smile. “And I appreciate the thought, I really do, but I’m not stupid, Ian. Don’t worry: I have no intention of falling in love with you and breaking my heart. I know it would be a disaster. We’re from different worlds.”

Ian didn’t know how to tell him that it was far from being the main issue. Very far.