39. Chapter Thirty-nine

Long seconds of silence ticked by where we held each other and merely breathed.

Then Miles looked me directly in the eye and said, "I'm ready for my treat now, Daisy-daze."

My toes curled as I smiled. "What treat? I don't know what you mean."

"You do." He moved fast, spinning and tossing me flat on my back. "If you won't give it to me, I'll take it."

Squealing, I scooted away from him, up the mattress until I hit the headboard. All the while, he prowled, taking his time crawling after me.

"No, no," I cried, giggling and kicked at him. My stomach was a tilt-a-whirl from the thrill of him hunting me down and taking what he wanted. "Not my feet. Anything but my feet."

He caught my ankle and lifted my leg so my socked foot was right in front of him. I kicked him with my free leg, but he caught that too. His hands were so big, fingers so long, they wrapped around both my ankles. He worked my socks off with the other hand and tossed them aside. Then he kissed the soles of my feet, which were smooth as silk from my afternoon treatment.

"So soft," he uttered.

Lowering my legs, he pointed my toes down so he could see them too, breath hitching when he caught sight of the polish.

"Fuck, Daze. Red? For me?"

When his eyes found mine, they were already glazed. I nodded. "For you. I hoped you'd like it."

"I love it." He softly kissed each of my toes while telling me how pretty I was, from the bottom to the top. All over. Everything about me was lovely, sweet, perfect. I'd never been happier about a nail polish choice than I was then.

We came together from a place of hope. Hopefully in love. There was no anger or desperation when removing each other's clothes, only hope for what the future would bring us as fingers explored and mouths devoured.

Miles settled between my thighs, where he'd told me more than once he hoped he'd die. And though I'd let him live there, lavishing me with his tongue, bringing me wave after wave of pleasure, that wasn't how I envisioned our end. I saw us old, holding wrinkled hands, watching a final sunset together. He might call me Lydia because he forgot, and I might let him because it reminded me of when we were young.

And just before the end, he'd wink and smile, and I'd close my eyes for the final time, knowing no matter what came after, I'd already had heaven.

"I love you," I whispered, my heart hammering in my ears.

He answered me with his tongue rolling over my clit and the brush of his fingers along my inner thighs. In my mindless haze of pleasure, I realized the brushes were done with intent, spelling out "love" over and over.

"Love you, love you, love you, love you." There weren't enough times I could say it to convey how much I meant it, but I would try.

Miles rode my waves until he drew nothing but whimpers and pleas from me. Kneeling at my feet, he brought one to his mouth and cherished it with his lips and tongue. Once satisfied, he did the same with the other.

There was something about him worshiping a part often forgotten that made me feel like the most special woman in the world. His lips and tongue could have touched any part of me, and I would have reacted, but him kissing the arch of my foot had me scraping at the sheets for an anchor so I didn't float away.

"Love you, love you, love you, love you."

He moved over me, rolling us to our sides to curl around me. My shelter.

I opened for him, and he slid into me easily. We took time staying joined but not moving much, staring at each other, saying pretty things, confessing our love again and again. His lips pressed on the crook of my neck, then his teeth joined, a contrast to his soft, gentle affection. If we'd been supernatural, the bite he'd left on me would have tethered us for life.

But we were mere mortals.

And this was the real world.

Even better than I could have imagined.

Our lovemaking was slow and sweet. Whispers and kisses, caresses and kneads. Miles held my face to tell me he loved me. I kissed his lips and breathed his air.

Seven years couldn't touch what had been created in this handful of months. To be seen, known, accepted, loved so dearly, was not something that came along more than once in a lifetime. We had it. We shared it. And I would protect it like a flame in the wind.

I touched my lips over his thrumming heart and sighed.

He brought my gaze back to his, and between breaths, he smiled at me. I traced the curve of his happiness and applied it to my own mouth. It tasted sweet and distinctly like Miles.

"I love you," I repeated for the thousandth time.

"I love you," he said with the same hopeful smile.

He was truly mine.

And I am truly yours.