Wait With Me (Wait With Me, #1)(71)
Seriously! How did he get that hard this fast?
“Holy shit!” I exclaim when he breaks our lips to run his whiskered jaw down my neck, his tongue trailing a delightful path of goose bumps the entire way. He gets low to my breasts and plunges inside my cleavage to suck hard.
“Oh!” I yelp and shove him softly.
He pulls back with a proud smile. “That’s going to leave a mark.”
“You jerk,” I husk, pushing him away. My man has an affection for leaving marks on me, and even though I pretend to hate it, I actually frickin’ love it.
His chest vibrates with laughter as he holds me to him. “I can’t help it. I like marking you.”
I roll my eyes. “What was it you said when you came in? Decent guys are gentlemen or something.”
He lifts his brows. “Who said I was decent?”
I glance down at my cleavage and pull my dress back to see the red mark already showing. “Clearly not you.”
The hungry look in his eyes is not at all apologetic, and I can’t help but love him a little more for it. On wobbly legs, I extract myself from his embrace and grab my flower from the table he unceremoniously tossed it to.
“You brought me a flower.” I smile and press it to my nose while walking back toward the kitchen.
His grin is sheepish as he rubs the back of his neck. “I thought the flower was very date-like. Book boyfriend worthy, as you say.” He shrugs his shoulders like it’s no big deal.
I shake my head. “Quit acting like you’re too cool for this stuff now. You love book research.”
He chuckles softly and props himself on the counter by the stove while I search for a pizza cutter. “Actually, I just love watching you work.”
“Yeah?” I reply, abandoning my task to grab a couple of beers out of the fridge. I hand one to him that he cracks open, handing it back to me so I give him the other.
He clinks bottles with me, takes a drink and points to his front door. “And the fact you can sit out on my porch and create your stories is enough to make my dick hard.”
“Brake fluid makes your dick hard,” I reply with a dramatic eye roll.
He pins me with a look of warning and sets his beer down, reaching out and yanking me into him. He twirls us so his arms cage me against the counter and he’s pressed up against me in that really delicious, big way he has about him.
He looks into my eyes with such sincerity when he says, “I’m not joking. I like you writing here, Kate.”
“Well, the vibe here is good. Even better than Tire Depot.”
He gasps at that and smiles. “What if I want you to spend your days and nights here?”
“Well, you pretty much have all my nights on lockdown already,” I state with a laugh. Lynsey’s house is not conducive to noisy sex, so we inevitably end up at Miles’s place more often than not.
“I mean permanently.” His smile falls, his eyes grow serious.
I frown up at him. “Like move in with you?”
“Unless you prefer sleeping next door to your ex-boyfriend?”
“Wait, is that the only reason you’re asking me to move in with you? Because you’re trying to keep me far away from my ex?”
“Nah,” he replies casually, splaying his hands over my hips and pulling me to him. “I’m asking you to move in because I want you in my bed every night, Kate. Not just when it works for you. I want to carpool together to Tire Depot where you can write all day, and I can come in and sneak a kiss whenever I want. And when I get off work, you’ll climb on the back of my bike and squeeze yourself around me as we ride home together. Honestly, I can’t think of a better way to spend some of my time with you.”
“How would you spend your other time?”
“Buried inside your sweet little pussy.”
My breath inhales sharply at his dirty promise. It sounds perfect. It sounds like he just described heaven, and I’m standing at the pearly gates waiting for entry.
But I try to play it cool when I reply, “I think I could like the idea of moving in with you.” I bite my lower lip and run my hands up his chest, stroking his full pecs appreciatively. “You are certainly my best writing inspiration to date.”
“You’d better not be using me for your fictional stories, babe,” he drawls, dropping a tender kiss on my lips. One that’s full of warmth and respect and adoration. It’s not a hickey, a claiming kiss. It’s not a sex-crazed, lustful kiss. It’s got nothing to do with book research.
It’s one that I can see him giving me every day for the rest of our lives.
“Never, Miles,” I murmur against his lips and run my hands through his hair. “Although living with you will definitely help me finish my book quicker than anticipated.”
He pulls back with a smile and asks, “So are you ever going to tell me what this book is about?”
I shrug my shoulders. “It’s our love story. No big deal.”
He laughs against my body. “Interesting, how does it end?”
I smile brightly up at him. “Happily, of course.”
THE END
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