New Point (16 page)

“Sharon wouldn’t want to hear that she’s not your favorite,” I stall.

“Believe me, I wouldn’t hear the end of it. That woman’s a tough one.” Reaching across the table he captures my fidgeting hand. “Your body language says you’re uncomfortable. Did I say something wrong?”

My eyes flicker up to his, and he watches me with patient concern. It intimidates me how easily Miles reads my emotions. What else does he see? “Oh, um, I’m fine.” I force myself to smile. “My first job out of college was at a public elementary school in the city.”

“And you prefer to work in a library than a school?”

I never got the chance to figure it out.
Clarkes Elementary didn’t fire me because of the incident when Clinton Smith invaded the school; I was too petrified to leave my house, let alone return to work.

“The job fit all right, it was the city that started to feel claustrophobic. The expansive horizon called out to me.”

“There’s more to it,” Miles decides, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You don’t have to tell me yet, but you will tell me eventually.”

I worry my bottom lip between my teeth. Silence invades the table for a few beats. “There’s more but I’m not… I don’t want to talk about it,” I finally admit, much to my astonishment.

He brushes his thumb against the back of my hand, a compassionate expression replacing the ferocity. “I’ll wait, Zoe, but not too long.”

The intensity I find in his gaze nearly makes me gulp but then the waiter saves me from responding, placing our salads on the table.

“What about you?” I ask. “What did you do before you got into the bar business?”

“Right after college it was straight to graduate school to get my MBA. I always knew I wanted to be in the hospitality business.” Above a bite of salad he winks. “You know firsthand I have a way with people.”

“That you do,” I mutter, teasingly rolling my eyes.

“After football season, I was always working in restaurants and bars. In graduate school I managed a popular restaurant in Ann Arbor. The passion for food and beverage came from my grandfather, the bar’s original owner. He shut it down when he got too old to run it, and when he died, he passed it along to my parents. Both of my parents are doctors like my sister and didn’t have much interest in refurbishing the bar. They eagerly passed it along to me. You probably didn’t notice but there’s a picture of Pops hanging above the employee entrance, still watching over his place.”

I smile softly. “I’m envious of your roots, your familial history.”

He eyes me sympathetically. “Do you have any grandparents?”

“My maternal grandmother was a nasty parent, kicked my mom out when she turned eighteen, and they hardly spoke after that. Out on her own, Mom reinvented herself from a trailer park princess to an eclectic artist. That’s how she caught Stewart’s eye, at an art fair. They had a short affair that produced my brother. Several years later my father found her at an art gallery in Chicago.” I shake my head at the memories and give him a rueful smile. “Sorry, that didn’t answer your question completely. My father’s parents lived in France while they were alive and didn’t take much interest in their granddaughter. Dad had told them that his wife was having an affair, and they weren’t pleased to put it mildly.”

“I’m sorry you took the brunt of their bitterness.”

I lift my shoulders in a slight shrug. “In the end, I got Blake. Most children who lose their parents don’t have a Blake to pick up the pieces.” An uneasy laugh escapes my lips. “Can we talk about something else?”

His relaxed grin appears. “Who turned up the heat on our dinner conversation? I wanted to talk about gardening.”

Rolling my eyes, I take a hearty bite of my appetizer. “You’re a little silly, you know that?”

Miles sends a flirty wink my way. “Only with you.”

Once I’ve convinced myself that tonight’s
the
night, I can’t think of much else. Dinner passes by in a flurry of our banter, though I have a hard time concentrating on the stories Miles tells me about growing up with Jake, Tess, Brandon, and Kyle.

Soon we’re back in the Jeep driving toward New Point. Did I eat? I can hardly remember the conversation, much less the food. I’m not hungry, so I must have had something. But what?

“You’re pondering something real hard over there. Was your meal all right?” Miles comments.

“Oh, yes, um, it was wonderful. Really spectacular… fish.” That’s it! Trout was my main course.
Shoot.
No guy wants to cuddle up to a girl covered in a fishy stench.

“Something’s up,” Miles says seriously when he settles the Jeep into park outside my house, still running. “You’re really worried.”

I can’t help myself. I burst out laughing. Miles watches me with a concerned look. “I’m sorry,” I gasp. “I’m not laughing at you.”

“What are you laughing at then?”

The giggles are still spilling out of my lips so I clasp a hand over my mouth to quiet down. “Fish was a bad choice if I expected a goodnight kiss,” I manage to say.

“That’s all?” His lips twist into a smirk. He reaches across the car, cupping the back of my neck in one large hand. His lips find mine, effectively disintegrating all of my laughter.

“That’s the best damn taste I’ve ever encountered,” he says against my lips.

There’s no hesitation when I speak. “Do you want to come in…for coffee?” It’s like he heard my unspoken question because he moves a few inches away to study my expression. His eyes bore into mine, pupils dilating with desire.

Though Miles’ jaw shows tension, his voice is soft. “Are you sure?”

“More than sure.” Breathless again, I can’t find any emotion to care.

In a heartbeat, he presses the latch on my seatbelt, releasing it. We bolt out of the vehicle, meeting near the stone path. I clasp his hand in mine, leading him toward the house. I unlock the door with shaky hands, Miles’ hot breath leaving a trail of unspoken promises on the skin at the back of my neck. When I successfully open the door, he swipes the keys out of the lock, nudging me forward. I don’t notice what he does with my keys, instead whirling around to face him in the door jam. My arms twine around his neck, and he braces his hands on my waist. Our kiss is insistent, tongues twisting together. I feel him kick the door closed behind us.

In a breathless voice I tell him, “I don’t want any coffee.” This time it’s Miles who chuckles, but it’s a low, strained sound. Still holding my waist, he doesn’t move an inch.

“What do you want?”

“You.” The word comes out on an exhalation, and his fingers tighten around me.

Confidence in my decision crashes over me, sending a coy smile playing at my lips. I step out of his grasp, walking up the staircase. Miles footsteps fall steadily as he follows me. At the landing on the top of the steps I kick off one shoe, then the other. Then I turn toward him. “Make yourself at home.”

A strangled groan comes from his throat and he yanks back to him, fingers driving into my hair. “Do you have any idea how sexy you are, Zoe?”

My eyes meet his heated ones, and I’m completely lost in the moment. “I see it in your eyes,” I whisper. He dips closer, fingers moving to cup my scalp.

“Good.” Miles’ lips capture mine in a lustful kiss.

I could kiss him forever.

In the next instant his shoes follow mine and then he tangles me in his arms. Walking backward, I lead him toward my bedroom. My want is palpable; feels strong enough that it could wrap around us and squeeze us together. As we make our way through the hallway, we come together in another frenzied kiss. Clumsily I unbutton his shirt, run my hands across the hard planes of his chest to his wide shoulders, and push it to the ground.

A moan escapes my lips and falls into his mouth.

“Jesus, Zoe,” he gasps, rearing back slightly.

“I know.” And I do. I really do.

It’s never been like this before for me either.

With hungry eyes, Miles unties the drawstring at my waist and lifts the delicate garment off my body. It falls to the ground with a whisper of silk. I stand before him, hands at my sides while his gaze roves over my body.

“Gorgeous,” he practically groans.

Blushing slightly, I turn halfway toward the bedroom.

“No, you don’t,” he says roughly. In an instant I’m floating above the floor toward my bed. “Don’t be embarrassed by a compliment from me, Zoe. I mean every word I say.” Gently he settles me down on the side of my bed. “You take my damn breath away.” He presses a tender kiss against the corner of my eyes. “Bottomless hazel eyes that can’t hide any of your emotions.”

He lowers himself to my chest, touching his lips the spot where my heart thumps wildly beneath my skin. “A heart full of warmth and compassion.” His thumb sweeps across my clavicle, cascading arousal through my veins. “Enough freckles to keep me busy for years.” Dropping lower he kisses the apex of my breasts. “Five, six, seven…”

“Miles.” Has my voice ever been dropped this low? It’s heavy with want.

As if breaking from a trance, he blinks up at me. Finding the desperation in my eyes, he loses his pants and boxers, standing before me proud. “See what you do to me?”

Do I ever. What
he’ll
do to me is rigid. Ready.

I scoot back on the bed, losing my strapless bra in the process. In a flurry of movement, he covers my body with his own, parting my legs with a muscular thigh. Somehow I lose my panties in our frantic kisses while his hands stroke my body into a delicious frenzy.

And then I’m flat on the bed, aware only of Miles as he positions himself over me.

“Wait,” I gasp and press a hand flat to his chest as he inches closer.

“Wait?” His eyes grow wide, chest heaving with each breath.

“Condom,” I explain.

Momentarily he’s stunned, like he was too caught up in the moment to remember protection. I know the feeling. With a gentle push from me, he launches into action. Stooping down to grab one from his jeans. A moment later he’s back hovering above me. “Zoe, I–”

“Don’t make me wait,” I plead.

Mindless.

The moment our bodies join as one, I’m mindless.

With pleasure, with passion, with serenity, with intensity, with lust, with need, with want.

My nails sink into his back, my legs clutch his lower back, my body clenches around his length.

“Zoe, God, Zoe.” He grinds the words out.

Each stroke takes me closer and closer to the edge.

“Miles.” My gasp is almost silent, a whisper of a word.

With Miles, the victim inside me disintegrates.

“
C
upcake!”

I shoot up in the bed, hand flying to cover my mouth before I can yelp out in surprise. Next to me, Miles groans, blindly reaching out to pull my back against his chest.

“Come back to bed,” he mumbles into my hair, draping a heavy arm around my waist to lock me in place.

A few seconds ago, the voice downstairs yanked me from the most peaceful night of sleep I can ever remember having. After another delicious round with Miles in the shower, we settled into my bed and within two heartbeats I succumbed to gentle sleep.

Yesterday Miles gave me something I’ve been unable to find my entire life–aside from multiple orgasms–silence. Relentless fears ceased to exist when I am with him. Normally a whirlwind of pained thoughts follow me wherever I go. Not last night.

“Zoe?” By now his voice is much closer, and he sounds confused. He must have seen the trail of clothing leading to the bedroom. Luckily before we went to sleep I shut the bedroom door to block out the hallway light.

“Let me up! My brother’s out–”

The door swings open, and my brother gapes at me. “Zoe!”

No, I’m not wearing a stitch of clothing. Clenching the sheet to my chest I sit up and stare at him. “Knock much, Blake?”

Beside me Miles moves into a seated position, his broad shoulder emanating a reassuring heat behind me.

“You,” my brother growls, eyes narrowing dangerously.

“Blake! Out!”

“Zoe, do you have any idea who is next to you?” He grips the doorframe so tightly his knuckles are white.

“Wait downstairs.” It’s the most stern voice I’ve ever used with my brother, but I am
not
okay with him trouncing in here like I’m a fifteen-year-old girl and he’s my father.

Blake whirls around, yanking the door to punctuate his departure with a thud.

Face meet palm.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what he’s thinking. Normally he’s not so intrusive.” I spare a look at Miles who, to my surprise, has a relaxed grin on his face.

“Not your fault. Remember my caveman-like behavior when I didn’t know he was your brother?” Miles leans forward, touching his lips to the tip of my nose. “Eight,” he counts, tossing a wink my way. He effortlessly climbs from the bed and steps into his jeans. “I owe him an explanation and an apology.”

“Apology?” I ask, stunned. “You’re willingly going to admit you were wrong? Isn’t that against the natural tendencies in your male DNA?”

Miles attempts to tame his messy brown hair. It distracts me for a moment, and then I launch myself out bed. Like a tornado, I whirl around the bedroom, pulling on a pair of exercise shorts, a tank top, and a sweatshirt. Maybe the layers will make my brother forget what he just saw. Not likely.