Ugly Love Part 11

"Ox," he says, with slight hesitation.

I smile. I love the word ox. It's my new favorite word.

"You're so weird," he says, amused.

I uncross my legs. He notices. "So, Miles," I say. "Let me see if I've got this straight. You haven't had s.e.x in six years. You haven't had a girlfriend in six years. You haven't kissed a girl in eight hours. You don't like relationships, obviously. Or love. But you're a guy. Guys have needs."

He's watching me, still amused. "Go on," he says with that unintentionally s.e.xy smirk.

"You don't want to be attracted to me, but you are. You want to have s.e.x with me, but you don't want to date me. You also don't want to love me. You also don't want me to want to love you."

I'm still amusing him. He's still smiling. "I didn't realize I was so transparent."

You're not, Miles. Believe me.

"If we do this, I think we should take it slow," I say teasingly. "I don't want to pressure you into anything you aren't ready for. You're practically a virgin."

He loses his smile and takes three deliberately slow steps toward me. I stop smiling, because he is seriously intimidating. When he reaches me, he places his hands on either side of me, then leans in close to my neck. "It's been six years, Tate. Believe me when I tell you . . . I'm ready."

Those all just became my new favorite words, too. Believe and me and when and I and tell and you and I'm and ready.

Favorites. All of them.

He pulls back and can more than likely tell I'm not breathing at the moment. He steps back to his spot opposite from me. He's shaking his head like he can't believe what just happened. "I can't believe I just asked you for s.e.x. What kind of guy does that?"

I swallow. "Pretty much all of them."

He laughs, but I can tell he feels guilty. Maybe he's afraid I can't handle this. He might be right, but I'm not about to let him know that. If he thinks I can't handle this, he'll retract everything he's saying. If he retracts everything he's saying, that means I don't get to experience another kiss like the one he gave me earlier.

I'd agree to anything if it means I get to be kissed by him again. Especially if it means I get to experience more than just his kiss.

Simply thinking about it makes my throat dry. I pick up my gla.s.s and take another slow sip of my juice while I silently work this out in my head.

He wants me for s.e.x.

I kind of miss s.e.x. It's been a while.

I know I'm definitely attracted to him and can't think of anyone else in my life I'd rather have casual, meaningless s.e.x with than my airline pilot, laundry-folding neighbor.

I set the cup of juice back down, then press my palms into the counter and lean slightly forward. "Listen to me, Miles. You're single. I'm single. You work way too much, and I'm focused on my career in an almost unhealthy way. Even if we wanted a relationship out of this, it would never work. Our lives wouldn't fit one. We also aren't really friends, so we don't have to worry about our friendship being ruined. You want to have s.e.x with me? I'll totally let you. A lot."

He's watching my mouth like all my words just became his new favorite words. "A lot?" he asks.

I nod. "Yes. A lot."

He looks me in the eyes with a challenging stare. "Okay," he says, almost like it's a dare.

"Okay."

We're still several feet apart. I just told this guy I would have s.e.x with him without any expectations, and he's still way over there, and I'm way over here, and it's becoming clear that I definitely had him pegged wrong. He's more nervous than I am. Although I think our nerves stem from two different places. He's nervous because he doesn't want this to turn into anything.

I'm nervous because I'm not so sure that just s.e.x with him is possible. Based on the way I'm drawn to him, I have a pretty good feeling s.e.x will be the least of our problems. Yet here I sit, pretending to be fine with just s.e.x. Maybe if it starts out this way, it'll eventually end up being something more.

"Well, we can't have s.e.x right now," he says.

Dammit.

"Why not?"

"The only condom I have in my wallet has probably disintegrated by now."

I laugh. I love his self-deprecating humor.

"I do want to kiss you again, though," he says with a hopeful smile.

I'm actually surprised he isn't kissing me. "Sure."

He slowly walks back to where I'm seated, until my knees are on either side of his waist. I'm watching his eyes, because they're looking at me like he's waiting for me to change my mind. I'm not changing my mind. I probably want this more than he wants this.

He brings his hands up and slides them through my hair, brushing his thumbs across my cheeks. He inhales a shaky breath while looking down at my mouth. "You make it so hard to breathe."

He punctuates his sentence with his kiss, bringing his lips over mine. Every remaining part of me that had yet to melt in his presence is now liquefied like the rest of me. I try to recall a time when a man's mouth felt this good against mine. His tongue slides across my lips, then dips inside, tasting me, filling me, claiming me.

Oh . . . my.

I.

Love.

His.

Mouth.

I tilt my head so I can taste more of it. He tilts his to taste more of mine. His tongue has a great memory, because it knows exactly how to do this. He drops his injured hand and rests it on my thigh, while his other hand grips the back of my head, crushing our lips together. My hands no longer have hold of his shirt. They're exploring his arms, his neck, his back, his hair.

I moan softly, and the sound causes him to press into me, pulling me several inches closer to the edge of the bar.

"Well, you're definitely not gay," someone says from behind us.

Oh, my G.o.d.

Dad.

Dad!

s.h.i.t.

Miles. Pulling away.

Me. Jumping off the bar.

Dad. Walking past us.

He opens the refrigerator and grabs a bottle of water, like he walks in on his daughter being felt up by his houseguest every single night. He turns around and faces us, then takes a long drink. When he's finished, he puts the lid back on the bottle of water and puts it back in the fridge. He closes the refrigerator and walks toward us, pa.s.sing between us, putting even more s.p.a.ce there.

"Go to bed, Tate," he says as he exits the kitchen.

I cover my mouth with my hand. Miles covers his face with his. We're both completely mortified. He more so than I, I'm sure.

"We should go to sleep," he says.

I agree with him.

We walk out of the kitchen without touching. We reach my bedroom door first, so I pause and turn around and face him. He pauses, too.

He looks to his left, then briefly to his right, to make sure we're alone in the hallway. He takes a step forward and steals another kiss. My back meets my bedroom door, but he's somehow able to pull his mouth away.

"You sure this is okay?" he asks, searching my eyes for doubt.

I don't know if this is okay. It feels good, and he tastes good, and I can't think of anything I want more than being with him. However, the reasons behind his six years of abstinence are what I'm concerned about.

"You worry too much," I say with a forced smile. "Would it help if we had rules?"

He studies me quietly before taking a step back. "It might," he says. "I can only think of two right now."

"What are they?"

His eyes focus on mine for several seconds. "Don't ask about my past," he says firmly. "And never expect a future."

I absolutely don't like either of those rules. They both make me want to change my mind about this arrangement and turn and run away, but instead, I'm nodding. I'm nodding because I'll take what I can get. I'm not Tate when I'm near Miles. I'm liquid, and liquid doesn't know how to be firm or stand up for itself. Liquid flows. That's all I want to do with Miles.

Flow.

"Well, I only have one rule," I say quietly. He waits for my rule. I can't think of a rule. I don't have any rules. Why don't I have rules? He's still waiting. "I don't know what it is yet. But when I think of it, you have to follow it."

Miles laughs. He leans forward and kisses me on the forehead, then walks toward his room. He opens the door but glances back at me for a brief second before disappearing into the room.

I'm not positive, but I'm pretty sure the expression I just saw on his face was fear. I just wish I knew what he was scared of, because Lord knows I know exactly what I'm afraid of.

I'm afraid of how this is going to end.

chapter ten.

MILES.

Six years earlier Ian knows.

I had to tell him. After the first week of school, he knew everything became Rachel.

Rachel knows Ian knows. Rachel knows he won't say anything.

I give Rachel my room when she moves in, and I take the spare bedroom. My room is the only spare bedroom with its own bathroom. I want Rachel to have the better room.

"Do you want this box in here?" Ian asks Rachel. Rachel asks what it is, and he tells her it's all her bras and underwear. "I thought maybe I should just go ahead and put it in Miles's room."

Rachel rolls her eyes at Ian. "Hush," she tells him. He laughs.

He likes that he's in on such a private thing. That's why he would never tell. He knows the power of secrets.

Ian leaves after all the boxes are unloaded. My father pa.s.ses me in the hallway and pauses. His pause means I should pause, too.

"Thank you, Miles."

He thinks I'm okay with this. With the fact that he's allowing another woman to push out the last reminders of my mother.

I'm not okay with it.

I'm just pretending to be okay with it, because none of it matters. Rachel matters.

Not him.

"No problem," I say.

He begins walking, then pauses again. He tells me he appreciates that I'm being nice to Rachel. He says he wishes he and Mom could have given me a sibling when I was younger.

He says I make a good brother.

Words are awful when they come out of his mouth.

I walk back to Rachel's room. I close the door.

It's just the two of us.

We smile.

I walk to her and wrap my arms around her, then I kiss her neck. It's been three weeks since the first night I kissed her.

I can count the times I've kissed her since then. We can't interact like this at school. We can't interact like this in public.

We can't interact like this in front of our parents. I can only touch her when we're alone, and we haven't been able to be alone much in the last three weeks.

Now?