Just a Bit Dirty (Straight Guys #10)(52)

“Abandon your plans for revenge against the Rutledges.”

Ian’s hand went still on Miles’s back. “That’s not something I can promise.”

Miles sighed. “I was afraid you’d say that.” The disappointment in his tone was palpable, and Ian clenched his jaw.

He wasn’t going to fold, dammit.

He wasn’t.

“Derek has never even met your sister,” Miles said. “He didn’t really think that someone would get hurt—”

“That’s right. He didn’t think. Look, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Why not?” Miles said softly, his lips brushing Ian’s skin as he spoke.

Because I want to indulge your every little whim, and that isn’t ideal considering the subject.

Ian said flatly, “Because Derek Rutledge is a selfish asshole who damaged Amanda’s mental health and nearly succeeded in killing her.”

Miles was quiet for a moment.

“But he wasn’t the one who did it,” he said. “His actions inadvertently did.”

“There’s a difference?”

“I think there is,” Miles said, his voice slow and thoughtful. “He couldn’t have possibly known that she would take it so badly. Most people would have been just humiliated after being publicly jilted.”

Ian looked at the ceiling. It was true enough, he supposed. Amanda had been a very sensitive child, and it only became worse as she entered adolescence. It didn’t help that her father was a prominent politician: the public scrutiny on their family had always been immense. Being publicly jilted had been just the last push.

“She’s always been very sensitive,” he admitted.

“See, Derek couldn’t have possibly known about it if he never even met her,” Miles said.

“It doesn’t change anything,” Ian said tersely. “He publicly humiliated her. She has chronic depression thanks to him.” He took a deep breath, trying to rein in his temper. Rationally, he knew he shouldn’t be getting angry at Miles—he considered the Rutledges his friends—but there was a part of him that didn’t like that Miles wasn’t taking his side. He should always take my side, his hindbrain insisted, viciously possessive. He’s mine.

Ian grimaced and squashed down those thoughts. He’d been doing it more and more often lately, except he couldn’t completely erase them, no matter how hard he tried.

Miles sighed. “Look, I hate to sound like some goody-two-shoes, but two wrongs don’t make a right. Ruining the Rutledges’ lives won’t fix what happened to your sister.”

“No, but it will make me feel better.”

Miles chuckled, which then turned into outright laughter.

Ian stared at him. “Care to share the joke with me?”

Lifting his head, Miles gave him a rueful smile. “It’s just really messed up that my first thought was ‘if it’ll make you feel better, then I guess it’s totally fine to do it.’ I actually thought that for a moment. I think you broke my brain.”

Ian didn’t know what to say to that.

He just looked at Miles, and Miles looked back at him, his smile softening.

There was something tangible in the air, an emotion Ian could practically taste.

Before he could say anything, Miles cleared his throat and averted his gaze. “I bought a ticket home,” he said, sitting up and reaching down for his discarded boxers to put them on.

Ian was so distracted by the sight that it took his brain a few seconds to catch up. When he did, his eyes snapped up to Miles’s nape.

“You did what?” he said, even though he’d heard it perfectly the first time. His voice sounded distant, as if it didn’t belong to him. He didn’t know why he felt like he’d just been punched in the gut. He had known this was coming ever since Miles had told him, I think I’m going to miss you when I go home.

He had known Miles would leave.

He still found himself completely unprepared for the reality of it, his heart pounding and his hands shaking with adrenaline.

Ian sat up and zipped up his fly, his gaze on Miles’s back as the younger man continued dressing.

“I bought a ticket to London,” Miles said evenly. “My flight is the day after tomorrow.”

Ian stared at him.

Then he stood and put his shirt on. “And when were you going to tell me that?”

Miles turned around and gave him a steady look. “I’m telling you now.”

Ian had to actually bite his tongue to stop himself from saying what he shouldn’t. There were a number of things he wanted to say. Things that would no doubt make him sound messed-up, controlling, or deranged. Or all of the above.

Grimacing inwardly, Ian bit out, “I’m going for a walk.”

He strode out of the room before he could say anything he would regret. Control. He was in control. He wasn’t a fucking Neanderthal.

Once he left the house, Ian took a deep breath of fresh air. It did nothing to clear his head.

It was dark outside, but the grounds were well illuminated. He prowled the grounds like a caged beast, trying to squash down the urge to go back into the house, tie Miles to his bed, and never let him go.

Goddammit.

He clearly needed to get away from the house or he would end up being exactly what his ex-wife had accused him of: a suffocating, controlling piece of shit. He didn’t want Miles to look at him as if he was some kind of disturbing, crazy freak. He didn’t give a shit what other people thought of him, but the mere idea of Miles looking at him in disgust and fear… it turned his stomach. Miles never seemed to mind his overbearing attitude, but there was overbearing and then there was what Ian really was.