Page 58 of Sing Your Secrets

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Page 58 of Sing Your Secrets

I jerk so hard I nearly levitate off the couch when he sucks on the inside of my thigh, about an inch from where I really want the pressure. “Geez,” I groan.

He chuckles, his warm breath tickling my thigh. “If that’s all it takes to get you worked up,” he grumbles in a sexy low tenor, “then you’re going to fall in love with me tonight.” He gives me the most deliciously wicked smile before he crawls up my body and his lips find mine.

His kiss isn’t remotely tender. Miles kisses me hard. His lips smash into mine, his tongue assaults my own. It’s all pressure, weight, and heat between us. By the time he pulls away, I’m panting.

“I like the way you kiss.”

He winks. “You’ll like the way I do a lot of stuff,” he says. “Let me show you.” He scoops his hands under my ass and tries to lift me, but I press my weight back into the couch and place both of my hands on the solid wall of his broad chest. “I’m trying to take you to the bedroom. You want to do it here?”

“No, bedroom’s fine. Just really quick, I’m curious.” I stare straight into his light eyes. “Why’d I pass?”

He presses his lips to my forehead, then each cheek. “I’ve been more honest with you than with any woman I’ve talked up before. I’ve been the real me and you didn’t run. I might never amount to anything spectacular, Reese. This might be it for me—blue-collar and broke. So, a girl that likes me for me and not what I could potentially be…means everything.”

I hold his cheeks and he leans into my palm. “Stop,” I mumble.

“What?”

“Saying stuff like that about yourself. Monetary success doesn’t make you spectacular, Miles. Being a good person, a good friend…that’s what matters. I don’t know what you’re striving for, but I think you already have everything you need. If you’d show women your true colors, they’d still be crazy about you…the real you.”

His cheeks bunch in my hands. “It doesn’t matter now. I only want one woman.”

“Glad to hear it.”

He scoops me up again and I let him whisk me off the couch this time. After tossing me on the bed, he grabs the half-empty energy drink from his nightstand.

“Does your head still hurt?” I ask, concerned. It’s only been a few hours since he looked outright pathetically ill.

He shakes his head right before he pounces on me, can still in hand. Miles takes another little sip as a mischievous smile claims his face. “It’s for a little energy boost. What we’re about to do is going to take all night.”

I feel the anticipatory ache building and for some ridiculous reason, suddenly I’m nervous. Sex is usually a rehearsed dance for me. Suck him off a little, lay perfectly still while he misses the target with his tongue, fake the first orgasm, bounce on top a bit, bend over the bed, fake the second orgasm, and then rub his back while pretending I’m out of breath and then tell him it was the best I’ve ever had. I shouldn’t be nervous when I’ve rehearsed the exact same scene a hundred times. But right now, the new sensations are rattling my confidence. I’m hyper-aware that my skin is beginning to dampen with nervous sweat. My shaky breath is loud. My heartbeat is erratic. It feels strangely like I’m seventeen again, backstage at The Garage, about to take the plunge for the first time.

Miles pushes the cardigan off my shoulders, letting it slump onto the bed. Using just the tips of his fingers, he traces my shoulder to my hands sending pins, needles, and full-on daggers of nerves across my body.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks.

Honestly?“Just you,” I say. “I like the way you touch me.”

“I like the way you feel.”

Mmmm. This man has all the right words.

“What do you think?” he asks in a grumbly whisper. “You up for a marathon?” He holds up the can and I part my lips. At first, I think his aim just sucks, but then I realize he’s purposely pouring the liquid down my chest, into my cleavage. He catches the dribble with his tongue before dragging it from between my breasts to the base of my neck.

“I want you so fucking bad,” he growls into my ear. He sets aside the drink, then guides me backward into the pillows wedged against his fabric-covered headboard. Slowly, he pushes the hem of my dress up, then tugs my panties to the side with two fingers. Using his pinky, he traces up my already wet slit. I shudder when he grazes the jackpot. The second time he trails his finger across my crease, I hear his fingers slick against my arousal. “Feels like you really want me too,” he murmurs.

“Miles, stop teasing me. It’s time to show your work.”

“What?” he asks, his playful finger halting in place. He looks confused.

“Do you remember the first time you slept over? You told me sex should be a huge deal. It’d make me crazy, thirsty and…obsessive I think is the term you used.”

He nods before nuzzling into my ear, a little moan escaping his lips. Geez, he’s intimate. He runs his hands all over my body patiently, purposely, like simply touching my bare skin could get him off. “I remember saying that.”

“Good. Now show me what I’ve been missing.”

Rolling onto his back, he pulls his shirt over his head. The dim lamplight touches the hard rectangle swells of his abdomen. “Climb on top,” he demands.

All right, fine. Guess my quads are up first.First straddling his lower stomach, I shimmy down his body so I can rest on his hips. I reach for the obvious bulge in his pants, but he clasps his hands firmly around my ass, stopping me.

“Hey, baby?”

“What?” I ask.

“You’re moving in the wrong direction.” He licks his lips. “Your seat is up here.”




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