The Casanova (The Miles High Club #3)(61)

“No. Discussion over.” I pull out of his arms and put my bikini top on. “Get dressed, we’re going out.”

“Where to?”

“Anywhere away from a bed.” I smile as he bites my neck.

“That won’t save you, I don’t need a bed.” He pushes me up against the wall. “I’m an all-surface kind of man.”

I laugh out loud. “Shut up, you fool. It’s not happening.”

The Canary Islands are everything I ever dreamed of. Sun, sand, and sea, all with such a beautiful backdrop. We’ve eaten at the most beautiful restaurants, laid on the beach for hours and sipped cocktails at quaint little ocean-side bars until late into the night.

This place is heaven, with old colorful buildings perched high on the cliffs overlooking the ocean; I’ve never been somewhere so utterly perfect.

Three days.

Three magical days is all it’s taken to transform me into an Elliot Miles disciple.

We’ve talked for hours, laughed, eaten all the beautiful food, and made love in every possible way.

It’s not awkward or foreign, it’s organic and beautiful . . . the kind of feeling that I have always searched for.

His dark eyelashes flutter, his big lips slightly parted, and I watch as his chest rises and falls as he sleeps, the white sheet pooled around his hips.

Elliot Miles is a force to be reckoned with. It’s not who he is.

It’s what he is.

For the first time in my life, I feel heard.

And I know that sounds ridiculous, even to me . . . because, of all the things I know about Elliot Miles, being a good listener isn’t one of them.

I lie on my side, propped up on my elbow as I watch him—I’ve been doing it for over an hour. I need to go to the bathroom but I don’t want to get up and disturb my uninterrupted view.

My eyes roam down over his broad chest and down to his navel and the small trail of dark hair that disappears under the sheet. His skin is olive, his hair dark.

Physically, he’s a beautiful man.

But I know a secret about Elliot Miles: it could start wars, end dreams, and light up a city from space.

His heart is his strength, and maybe it’s not mine to keep.

But I’ll cherish this week that I had it in my hands, forever.

His eyes flutter open and he frowns as he focuses on my face, then breaks into a slow, sexy smile. The one I’ve become addicted to.

“What are you looking at?” he whispers as he pulls me onto his chest, holds me tight, and kisses my forehead.

“Just your goat face.”

He chuckles and it’s deep and husky and surrounds my senses.

“Bahahaha,” he says.

I laugh out loud. “Goats don’t bahahaha.”

“What sounds do goats make?” He smiles.

“I don’t know, but I know they don’t bahahaha.”

He rolls me onto my back and comes over me, and his lips softly take mine. “Well, if I don’t bahahaha, you better make me moan.” He puts his knee between my legs to spread them.

I smile up at him. Oh, this man. “You mean like a cow?”

He chuckles. “I’m a fucking bull, Kate. I told you before.”





ELLIOT

I follow the hot little ass up the trail—black leggings, a white midriff tank top, and a blonde ponytail swinging as she walks.

What a view to behold.

Kate and I are climbing a mountain, and it’s steep. She turns and looks out behind me. “Oh El, look at that.”

We turn and stare over at the view.

She smiles wistfully into the wind and I stare at her. “It’s so beautiful,” she whispers.

“She is.” I smile.

Her eyes find mine and she gives me a shy smile. “I’m talking about the view.”

I take her hand in mine and kiss her fingertips. “I know.”

She smiles softly. “Can I take a photo of us?”

“If you want.”

She takes her phone out and puts her face to mine, and with the backdrop in the background, she takes a shot. She looks at it with a huge smile. “I want to see what you looked like on film before you piggyback me up to the top.”

I laugh. “Angel, if you want to fall spectacularly down this mountain and die, let me carry you.”

She turns and begins to walk up the trail again. “I could carry you,” she replies casually.

“I have no doubt,” I huff as I climb. “Horses can do that.”

She laughs. “You know I haven’t gone hiking in such a long time . . . since my parents died, actually.”

I frown; this is the first time she’s told me this. “Your parents both passed?”

She continues to walk in front of me. “Yeah, they were killed in a car accident six years ago.”

Shit.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

We keep walking.

“What were they like?” I ask.

She turns. “My mother was like me.”

“A sex maniac, then.”

She laughs out loud. “And my father was the sweetest man on earth.”

I keep climbing as I listen.

“We used to have this thing that we would do together on special occasions.”