Page 3 of Miles Apart
I signal to the bartender for another Bellini. I’m at the end of the bar tucked between foliage and a wall of mirrors, the perfect spot to people watch and eat breakfast. If only I hadn’t lost my appetite because of this call and the person on the other end.
Carter is attractive, but I can’t stand him. My regard for him shifted over the years he’s worked for my father. No amount of fine can fix that awful of a heart.
“Does my father need something?” I push out the question to rush Carter off the phone.
“I need you,” he says, his husky tone licking my ear. “John has a fundraiser this weekend in Denver. His only daughter should make an appearance.”
“Is Blair not available to play poster child?” My cousin is everything the good senator wants in a daughter: obedient, vanilla. Throw in a ride on the private jet, and she’ll do a special cheer.
There’s a pause before Carter lowers his deep voice. “She’s not you.”
Silence dances between us with the intensity of a livewire, one I’ve reinforced since I met Carter when he interned for my father during his sophomore year of college. He ignored my high school crush until I graduated from Bodie University. I was no longer the same girl who made every excuse to stop by my father’s office, knowing one of Virginia’s senators was too busy to see his daughter. I became a woman who grew into her own, wantingmore and no longer willing to chase after anyone in order to be seen.
It pissed off my family that I chose a lesser-known institution in California over my father’s Ivy League alma mater. They couldn’t control my desire to attend the same school as Justice, nor my decision to put the middle of the country between us. No matter their efforts, the money they threw at me to come back home to the DMV, nor the threats to take away the trust fund I never used, I held my own—unbought or sold.
Carter took notice of my rebellion, and so began the decade-plus game of cat and mouse. I became the unattainable trophy to acquire, driven by lust and his desire to please my father. Carter evolved into another desperate-for-power suit on Capitol Hill. He’s remained on my Do Not Fuck list, which is a testament to my willpower.
Low-cut fade.
Caramel skin.
Blue-green eyes.
Carter is Jesse Williams, a self-absorbed version doused in fine.
I love dick, but not everyone gets admission into this pussy.
“You are John’s daughter,” Carter declares as if I’m the one who needs the reminder. “You can afford a few hours to support the campaign.”
“I’m here to enjoy a trip with my best friend, not bend over backward for donors to make my father look good.”
“Saturday night. We’ll charter a plane to pick you up and take you back. As for how far you can bend”—Carter’s voice drops—“we’ll test your limits later.”
“I told you, I have plans.” I clear my throat after a long swallow. My boots rub to keep my knees from parting. The change in altitude is messing with my head because my Do NotFuck list might make a liar out of me if he keeps this up. I’m strong, but shit, I’m human too.
“Cancel them.”
“Not happening.”
Growing up, Justice and her family welcomed me with open arms. I was the kid of an influential politician with access to privilege but without the one thing money can’t buy. Some fancy jet and a twenty-thousand-a-plate fundraiser aren’t enough to ditch my friend. Nothing is.
“Is that an invitation to come get you?”
I hang up without a second thought. It’s too early for all that. The devil is a lie, as Justice’s mother says.
“Someone’s testy,” a familiar voice says from behind, raising every hair on my neck.
Miles steps next to me, and I ask God what I did to deserve not one but two men tempting me to pose for a mugshot. “How in the hell are you here?”
“You want my flight number?” Miles rolls his thick lips between his teeth. I follow the wet path of his tongue and scoff at the grin forming.
My now-room-temperature parfait streaks my bowl as I take in the ripped figure in my private corner, the one with a smirk on his goatee-framed mouth and a gaze up to no good.
Of course, he came.
Miles is a threat in ways Carter will never be. I’ll dodge the latter without issue if I limit my trips home to Alexandria, Virginia, which I do. Miles is a different story. If Justice and I are a package deal, so are Terrence and Miles. They’ve been friends since they were damn near babies, and that pushes us together for obvious reasons. Our paths don’t always cross, but when they do, it’s this mix of sexual tension and contempt.
I’ve sidestepped Miles, those thick arms, and rich chocolate skin, for over a decade. We’ve been doing this dance sincecollege, when Justice and Terrence started dating. He tosses a dig my way, and I toss it right back. The problem is, we both love sex, which isn’t an issue until you almost do it during a trip to your respective best friends’ house. We shouldn’t have come that close, which is why I’ve kept my distance and double-check before visiting to make sure he’s not there.
