Page 68 of Deception & Daylight
“Why? You gonna miss me, Wildcat?”
“Pfft. Hell no. Just wondering when I’ll be getting rid of you.”
“That’s not what you said last night when I had my head between your thighs. Or when I took you in the shower. Or when —”
Before he can rehash all of the sordid details of arguably the hottest night of my life, I cut him off. “Ok. You’ve made your point.”
“Good. You’re stuck with me anyway. The custom order for Luca’s place is delayed, so we’re off for the next two days.”
“Who says I’m sticking around,” I tease.
He slides his hand up my calf beneath the Barlow Construction t-shirt. “I can be very convincing.” I suck in a sharp breath as he reaches the juncture ofmy thigh and pauses. “I have cinnamon rolls in the oven. If you’re a good girl, I’ll let you have one.”
With a fleeting kiss on the cheek, he checks his watch and at the same time a loud beep sounds from inside the house. As if on queue, my stomach rumbles in the confined space and Miles lets out a bark of laughter. “Come on. Gotta make sure my girl is well fedandwell fucked, and if my math is right, we’re only batting five hundred right now.”
“Is that some sort of sports ball reference?” I joke, knowing full well what he meant. I already spotted the little league trophy on his bookshelf in the den. There’s still so much I don’t know about my fake boyfriend, but being in his space has been an eye opening experience.
Miles’ home is pristine, and I’d bet money he has someone on his payroll who keeps it that way. There are a few family photos scattered throughout the expansive living room, mainly of Miles and Lucy, but I also spotted a photo of a much younger version of Miles standing beside a younger kid I’m assuming is Matty. It’s like he’s holding onto the fractured pieces of their past and it breaks my heart a little bit for the kid who adored his baby brother.
He snags my cup of tea from my hand then deposits it on the floorboard, and before I can protest, I’m being hauled over his shoulder. He carries me inside, through the foyer and into the kitchen, depositing me on the cold marble island. I didn’t bother to put any pants on since Miles’ shirt reaches almost to my knees, but the fabric is bunched around my hips, leaving my thighs sticking to the stone surface.
The sweet smell of cinnamon and sugar permeates the air as Miles pulls on a pair of oven mitts that barely cover his massive hands. With a beaming smile, he makes a crab-like motion with his hands before reaching into the oven, a wave of heat billowing out as he extracts a baking dish of perfectly golden brown cinnamon rolls with a crispyouter edge and an ooey gooey center — not unlike the man himself. I’m practically salivating as I watch him drizzle on the frosting, and I’m not sure if it’s the act of Miles Barlow baking, or the pastry that’s doing it for me. I’d say I’m the one batting a thousand in this scenario.
When Miles slips his thumb between his lips to suck off some of the frosting, I damn near combust on the spot. He quirks a brow as if he knows exactly where my thoughts landed, before sweeping his finger into the dish and bringing it to my lips. Without hesitation, I pull his index finger into my mouth and suck off the sweet confection, moaning around the digit.
“If you keep making sounds like that, I’ll be havingyoufor breakfast.”
“Be my guest. As long as I can have a cinnamon roll while you get yours, I’m all for it. In fact, I encourage it.”
Shaking his head, he busies himself around the kitchen, plating up a massive roll for each of us before pouring himself a cup of coffee and handing me another mug of tea since mine was abandoned on the front porch. Leaning his elbows on the island next to where I’m sitting cross-legged, he devours his breakfast in only four bites, going back for seconds while I’m struggling to finish the first one. We eat in companionable silence, and when I can’t finish the last bite that’s trapped between my thumb and forefinger, Miles grasps my wrist and brings it to his mouth, swirling his tongue around my fingertips. “Delicious,” he says, but the look in his eyes tells me he’s not talking about the cinnamon roll.
Chapter 28
Miles
? Break the Cycle - You + Me
For the last three days, Maggie’s been practically living with me — not that I’m complaining. There’s evidence of her presence all around my house; from the little crumpled up balls of paper to pens with her teeth marks imprinted on the ends. She even wears my clothes, and that alone fills me with an immense sense of satisfaction. There’s something about that Barlow Construction logo on her chest that makes me want to throw her over my shoulder and stake my claim over and over on every surface in this house. In fact, I can, and I have.
It feels like a massive fucking victory, even if we still haven’t addressed the unspoken truth of what happened two years ago. In some deep recesses of my mind, I know I’ll have to come clean eventually, but right now I’m content to have her in my arms every single night, listening to her quiet breaths escaping her slightly parted lips. I drop her off at the inn in the mornings, and pick her up after work like we’ve been doing this for years — like weshouldhave been doing for years. If I’m certain of anything, it’s that Mags and I have always been inevitable.
I dump the rest of my tepid coffee into the kitchen sink and rinse the mug, setting it gently in the drying rack before I take off through the house to find my girl. I find her in the ensuite bathroom, brushing her teeth. When she spots me in the mirror, she smiles and some of the foamy toothpaste falls into the sink — fuck, she’s cute. “I was thinking of heading over to Liam’s to use the gym. Did you wanna come?” She quirks a brow, and I instantly regret my choice of words. “With me. Did you want to come along with me?” The rambling course correction has her eyes crinkling in amusement. Not breaking eye contact, she spits, and that should definitely not turn me on, but dammit, I’m constantly hard around this woman. It’s becoming a problem.
“Sure. Give me ten minutes to finish getting ready. I’ll meet you at the truck.” In a move that’s far too casual, she pops onto her toes and kisses my cheek, leaving a combination of spearmint and roses in her wake.
Ten minutes later, Maggie comes bounding down the porch steps in a pair of tight as fuck purple leggings with a matching sports bra and a barely there off the shoulder crop top. It’s a damn good thing we’re only going to Liam’s house to work out, because I don’t think I could stand being out in public with so much of my girl on display. Call me a caveman, but I’m feeling possessive as fuck.
Opening the passenger door, I usher her inside and wait for the click of the seatbelt before walking around to the driver’s side. Maggie’s bluetooth automatically connects to the speakers with her female empowerment playlist queued up. She rolls down her window, her hair whipping in the breeze as she sings at the top of her lungs, and it feels like my heart is beating out of my chest at how right this feels. When I pull up outside Liam’s house, I spot Aiden, Liam’s son, coming out of a small pop up tent. He waves briefly before disappearing inside while Liam struggles to crawl out after him, his massive frame getting stuck in the small opening. It’s almost comical.
“Hey Li. Mind if we use the gym?”
“Nah, man. Have at it. Watch your stance when you’re throwing those punches this time.” Something that could pass for a smile in Liam’s world crosses his features, then he turns to look at Mags. To his credit, he doesn’t check her out, and I appreciate not having to show him just how much my aim has improved. “Hey Mags. How’s this asshole treating you? Blink twice if you need help.”
I hold up my middle finger, and Maggie swats it away with a derisive snort. “I’m good, Liam. If anybody needs help, it’d be Miles.”
Without preamble, I tug her to my side, cup her cheek and kiss her thoroughly. “Think I’m good, Wildcat.” With a smack on the ass, I guide her towards the door, ignoring the gorgeous flush on her cheeks as she waves at Liam.
My first mistake was inviting Mags to the gym. My second mistake was not turning around when she walked out of the house looking like a goddamn wet dream. Now her body is coated in a thin sheen of sweat as she squats with an impressively weighted dumbbell held between her hands, her pert ass angled perfectly for me to discreetly check out in the mirror. I’ve had to adjust my dick more than once to hide my growing erection.
