Page 101 of Marry Lies
That Miles Ravage, grump extraordinaire, has somehow, some way, let me in enough to allow me to do this.
That I’m the first.
“Miles,” I whisper, my hands coming to the sides of his face, and when he looks up into my eyes, his expression nearly knocks me over.
Love.
Is it possible that he loves me? And, in that same vein, is it possible that I love him right back?
“Our reservation is at seven. What would you like to do until then?” he asks, his eyes soft.
I shrug. “I just want to spend time with you.”
Brows furrowed, he leans forward and places a kiss on my bare abdomen. It’s so reverent, so soft, that my hands fist his hair from the intensity of emotions flowing through me.
When did this happen?
Howdid this happen? A year ago, I considered him a different kind of one night stand. Not someone I couldlove,someone I would come to care about. He was too stuffy, too serious.
Too much of an arsehole.
But now?
I can’t imagine my life without him.
“How about I make us some food and we have a picnic?”
I grin. “Sounds perfect.”
He stands up and gives me a soft peck against my cheek before walking away, white towel slung over his hips. I admire his backside. His firm arse and muscled back. I’m staring when he gets to the door, turning around with that signature smirk twisting his lips.
“Aren’t you coming?”
And for whatever reason, maybe I am a romantic, after all, those three words tug on my heartstrings more than I expect them to. Being here, beingpresentwith him, means a lot to me. The fact that he’s inviting me into his personal space, to presumably watch him get dressed…
I nod once before rubbing my chest.
Sometime between the cellar and now, Miles decided to let me in. He gave me a proverbial knife to chip away at his icy heart, and now that I’m in, I never want to leave.
I follow him into his bedroom, my eyes instantly roaming up to the mirror paneling adhered to the ceiling. Stepping into the large walk-in closet, Miles chuckles as he drops his towel, pulling a pair of black boxer briefs on.
“Like what you see?” he asks, his eyes meeting mine in the clear mirror.
My chest flushes as I think about Miles moving on top of me, watching as his arse muscles contract with every thrust…
“It may have piqued my interest a couple of weeks ago when I was snooping,” I admit, sitting down on his bed.
He gives me a rueful smile as he pulls dark gray trousers on. “Is this before or after you happened upon the only spare key to the cellar?”
I laugh. “Before. You coerced me into marriage and then left me to my own devices for a few days afterward. What else was I supposed to do? I saw it when I swapped out the duvet covers.” He pulls a silver button-down shirt on, deftly working his fingers to button it slowly as he watches me. “I suppose I should tell you that I also snooped through your bathroom drawers,” I add, my lips twisting to the side. “I see you have a box of magnum johnnies.”
He arches a brow. “Johnnies?”
“Condoms,” I tell him.
After tucking his shirt in—which is highly erotic to watch—he slides a camel-colored Cartier belt through his belt loops. I walk out of his closet and lean back on his bed as I take in his long, lean body. The way his trousers hug his hips. The fitted way his shirt accentuates his muscles. I feel like I’ve gotten a behind the scenes look at how Miles gets dressed so impeccably every day.
He cocks his head as he sits down in the chair across from me, pulling on black socks.
