Page 26 of Chasing You

He puts the drink down, bringing his fingers together in contemplation before smiling up at me. “That one is fucking delicious.”

A smile breaks the concentration on my face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, princess. Definitely add that one to the menu,” he says, picking the glass back up to take another sip before bringing his focus back to the puzzle that is scattered over the top of the kitchen island.

“Ah,” he mutters to himself before slotting a piece into place. And I swear it’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. His concentration face is so endearing.

He must feel my attention on him because he looks up to find me admiring him. Just being in his presence feels precious, like every moment needs to be treasured.

He’s going back to work tomorrow, doing a few flights around the area, and he won’t be back for a few days. I know it’s only been two weeks, but I’m so used to him being around now that it’ll feel weird knowing he’s not sitting at the end of the bar tomorrow night for my shift.

“How come you’re so good at these anyway?” he asks, dragging my attention back to what’s going on in front of me.

A smile picks at the corner of my mouth. “It’s something I always did with my dad as a kid.” I pick up a piece from where it sits on the bench top and fit it in between two others. “My maused to spend hours in the kitchen, whether she was baking brownies, her panna cotta, peach crostatas, anything. Whenever she gets stressed, she bakes. And when she’s stress baking, you want to be out of that kitchen or you might get a wooden spoon to the ass.” I laugh.

Miles just looks at me with wonder, as if he’s lapping up every scrap of information I’m feeding him, so I carry on.

“So my pa and I would stick it out in the living room, getting through the mountain of puzzles we had at home. It became a routine, and one of my favorite things to do with him when we could get some time just us. Once I really started getting good at it, I’d get a new puzzle for my birthday, for Christmas, or when I got good grades on a test. Anything was a good excuse for a new puzzle.”

I home another lone piece before meeting Miles’s gaze once more. “Now that I’m away from them, I like to do the things they love to feel close to them, even when they aren’t around. Puzzles when I miss pa, and baking brownies when I miss ma.”

“Brownies, huh?”

I can’t help but smile at the cheeky grin on his face. “Uh-huh.”

“You feeling homesick right about now?”

I bark out a laugh. “If you want me to bake for you, Miles, all you have to do is ask.”

“Will you bake for me? Please?”

“Will you take me on a flight?” I chirp back. And his smile somehow grows even more.

“Yeah, princess. I can take you on a flight.” He stands up from his seat, rounding the island. “Will you take me for a ride on that death machine of yours?” he asks and a laugh bursts out of me.

“It seems like we are getting a bit of a bucket list going on here,” I say.

“It seems so,” he says, his expression all cheeky charm and I’m such a sucker for it. “But right now, I’m really hungry.”

My body gravitates towards his as soon as he’s on the same side of the stone slab as me, floating into his arms. “You couldtake a bite out of me,” I say. “I can assure you it would be satisfying.”

Just because Miles won’t sleep with me hasn’t stopped me from having my hands on him in every spare moment we’ve spent together. There is this pull between us, something inevitable that leads us into each other's arms whenever we get close. It’s something I haven’t felt with guys I’ve dated for months, let alone someone I’ve known for two weeks.

A low growl escapes his throat as he dips his head, pressing a warm kiss to my neck. “I have no doubt about that at all.”

His tongue connects with my sensitive skin and I find myself tipping my head so he has better access. I could stay here forever. I don’t think I’d have a single complaint if he littered my skin with lovely bruises I could wear to work tomorrow.

His finger twines in a strand of my hair and his lips leave my neck. When I meet his gaze, it’s fully focused on the curl wrapped around his finger. “I love your hair.”

My heart surges in my chest. I’ve never had a guy say that to me before. If a guy ever mentions my hair, it’s usually about how it’s annoying or in the way. Never that they liked it.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“Does it take a long time to wash?” he asks, and I think I might cry.

“Um, yeah, I just have to be careful with it. It takes longer out of the shower than it does to wash it, I try to preserve the curl pattern as best as I can.”

“Preserve the curl pattern,” he mutters, nodding along. And I can’t do anything but step into him and wrap my arms tightly around his waist. He doesn’t hesitate to hug me back, like it’s second nature to him. Not even second nature, first nature if that’s even a thing.

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