Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“This past week was good. Having you around felt… good. It felt right.”
“Okay,” she whispers, watching me closely.
“I like you. I enjoy spending time with you.”
“We’re friends. That’s nor—”
“Don’t start that bullshit, Em,” I cut her off before she can finish whatever lame explanation was going to come out of her mouth. “You know I’m not talking about us being friends.” The pulse at the side of her throat begins to beat wildly. “There’s something here.” I motion between us with a flick of my wrist. “I feel it when you look at me, and I know you feel it too.”
“Miles.” She shakes her head. “I think you’re confused.”
“I’m confused?”
“You just….” She rubs her lips together. “I think you and I got caught up in the moment.” I wait for her to clarify, wishing I wouldn’t have when she continues. “Me being here and us playing pretend-family this we—”
“Stop fucking talking,” I bite out, not getting pissed but going full-on pissed.
CHAPTER 15
emma
With the air suddenly thick with tension and my heart thundering, I watch Miles place his drink on the coffee table and stand. The anger on his face is hard to miss, but there’s something else happening here, something I don’t understand. Or maybe I’m not willing to, because this entire situation is too unbelievable. I don’t know what I expected when he showed up during my date tonight, saying we needed to talk, but this was the furthest thing from my mind.
“Miles.” I panic when he begins closing the distance between us. But instead of backing away from him like any sane person would do when coming face-to-face with an obvious predator, I freeze in place.
“If all I wanted was a woman I could play pretend with, Emma, I could still be doing that shit with Hazel. That’s not what this is. I’m not confused. I sure as fuck didn’t get caught up playing pretend-family with you, and I don’t want to be your fucking friend.” He takes my wine glass from my grasp, and I watch him place it on the coffee table with such force some of it spills over the side.
“What are you doing?” I press my hands against his chest when he steps into my space and wraps his arm around my waist.
“Proving a point.” His hand slides farther around my back, forcing me closer, so close my chest presses into his.
His free hand cups my cheek, slides back into my hair, and he grips. A tingle moves over my scalp, making me gasp, then his mouth is on mine, and he takes full advantage of my parted lips. The taste of him and Scotch melts against my tongue, and he slants his head farther to the side, deepening the kiss.
I’ve never been kissed like he’s kissing me. I didn’t even know you could feel fully possessed from a kiss alone. But as his fingers in my hair tighten, I give myself over to him willingly. My hands that had been pressed to his chest to push him away become fists, clinging to his shirt so I can stay on my feet, and I melt into him.
When he rips his mouth from mine, a whimper of disappointment and relief crawls up the back of my throat, and I let out a shaky breath as he latches onto my gaze.
“We’re not friends.”
Yeah, it’s safe to say he just obliterated that line between us with that kiss.
It’s also safe to say that each and every kiss I have in the future will be compared to that one.
“Now—” He takes a step back and picks up my wine glass, holding it out to me. I take it, my hands shaking. “—let’s have a conversation about what just happened.”
The panic I felt earlier comes back full force. I don’t know what it is about him and this situation that scares me, but it does. He does. He must read that I’m about two seconds from bolting for the door, because he takes my elbow and leads me to the couch. After he gently urges me to take a seat, I watch him casually sit down next to me, like this scene and that kiss has had zero effect on him.
I gulp down a mouthful of wine.
Angling his body in a way that would prevent me from getting up if I tried, he picks up his glass and takes a swig, then locks his gaze on mine.
“All right, Em,” he starts, like he’s talking to a frightened animal, and maybe I am. I feel like one. “I know you just got out of a relationship, and I get that you’d have some reservations about dating someone with a kid, but—”
“No, I wouldn’t.” I frown. I can’t help it. My response is automatic, but I realize when his lips tip up ever-so-slightly that was the wrong thing to say. As in, if I wanted out of this situation, I just blew my shot.