Chapter 151

I don’t know what to say. If he breaks up with Selena… does that solve anything? It would remove the biggest reason I had to push Miles away, but our relationship likely still couldn’t be public. We’d still have to keep everything a secret.

But I wouldn’t be the other woman anymore.

Then, there’s Hugo. He’s steady, stable, and mature. He doesn’t make impulsive decisions. If we chose to be together, we would have a secure relationship for the rest of our lives.

That’s the kind of relationship I should want at my age, not a whirlwind romance with a younger man.

Yet, looking at Miles and feeling how I do for him, I don’t know the correct choice. The smart choice doesn’t feel like the right now.

“I need time,” I say. “Don’t do anything you don’t want to do first. Let me think about this.”

My answers are not going to be found in this 6x7 box.

Miles glances away. “I understand.” Turning to the elevator buttons, he disengages the emergency stop and the elevator finally continues down.

As we reach the bottom, Miles says, “Call me when you’ve made your decisions.”

“I will,” I tell him, and step out of the elevator. Miles stays behind.

Back home, I shower and change, slip into my comfortable pajamas and crawl into bed. It’s early yet. I could take an hour or two to unwind before falling asleep. But, honestly, after all of the questions and thinking I’ve been doing all day, I’m just ready to quiet my brain with sleep and be done with this day.

I’m also horny as hell.

Being with Miles ignites a fire in me, every single time. Having to part from him as abruptly as I did leads that fire with nowhere to go, so it sits inside of me, simmering, slowly consuming me from the inside out.

If I don’t do something to quench these flames, I feel like I might burn alive.

So, slowly, as I’m resting on my back in my bed, I slide a hand down from my stomach, slipping under the waistband of my sleep shorts and my panties. Down, down, until I reach my folds. Then I slip my finger between them, seek out my clit, and start to gently rub against it.

Humming, I drop my head more comfortably back on the pillow. I’m well versed in my own body. I know how to touch myself just how I like.

The problem I have is that I don’t want to think of Miles. Lusting for Miles is what created all these problems for me in the first place. The person I should be lusting for is the man I’m actively dating: Hugo.

I force thoughts of Hugo to the front of my mind, pushing back images of Miles. Hugo is handsome and strong. It’s romantic as hell that he doesn’t like touching women, but doesn’t mind touching me.

I try to imagine his lips pressed to mine as my curves press up against his tall, strong body. He has nice hands, I think, I don’t really remember. They could be nice.

Like Miles’s. Insistent as he circles his finger around my clit. I move as I know Miles would and moan loudly. At the same time, I dip my free hand up under my shirt to clutch at my breast. Miles’s wouldn’t let my tits be neglected for long.

With one hand rubbing my clit, I tease my hard nipple, pretending my thumb is Miles’s tongue. It’s not damp enough though, so after tugging my shirt up, baring my breasts, I lick at my thumb to dampen it. This time, when I tease my nipple, it’s much more convincing.

“Miles…” I moan, then whimper. It feels good. I want more. I wish Miles was here so that he could –

Immediately, I still, sobering suddenly. Miles is not the person I’m supposed to be thinking about right now.

Hugo. Hugo, Hugo, Hugo.

Hugo would probably suck on my breasts in a similar way, wouldn’t he? No. No, Hugo is more deliberate than passionate. Every movement he would make, even in the bedroom, I suspect would be calculated and preplanned.

Even in the throes of passion, I couldn’t imagine Hugo veering off his pre-determined course.

With that in mind, I force myself to mimic those more mechanical movements, moving my fingers in a square-like pattern over my clit and nipples.

It’s frustrating, but it doesn’t feel… bad, exactly.

I just want more. I want the passion.

Miles would only ever hold back to edge me. Hugo would drive me to impatience simply because that was typically how things were done.

Allow me, Miles purrs in my mind. At once, my motions return to how he would touch me, frantic and passionate, picking up speed.

Lowering my hand from my breast, I push a finger up inside of me. God, I’m wet.

Miles would absolutely go feral feeling this.

“Miles… Ah…”

Surrendering to the fantasy I know would provide me the most pleasure, I imagine Miles crouched in the space between my spread thighs, lapping at my clit with his tongue while he teased my pussy with a finger, then two.

“Oh, please. Miles.”

My nipples ache. I wish I had more hands so I could touch myself everywhere at once. As it is, I have to make choices, and I still with the choices Miles would make.

He would focus on giving me the most pleasure. That meant sucking on my clit while turning his fingers upright inside of me, just so…

“Ah! Oh, God… Yes!”

I find that tender spot inside of me and press there again and again, faster and faster, while I continue to roughly rub my clit, quickly in time.

In a rush, I’m moving to the edge of desire. All it would take is a simple command in a voice I love to hear so much.

“Come for me,” the Miles of my mind growls, and I clench down on my fingers as I arch my back up from the bed.

Ripples of pleasure surge through my body.

“Miles!” I cry. “Oh, God, Miles!”

I drag it out as long as I can, but when I am spent, I collapse on my mattress, breathing roughly, my hands at my sides. I stare up at the ceiling.

I was supposed to think of Hugo, but in the end, Miles was the only one who could push me over.

Miles is the one my body wants.

“He’s not the smart choice,” I tell myself, but my stubborn heart won’t listen. “Choosing him will only lead to heartbreak.”

We’d have to keep our relationship a secret. If confronted, he would deny it again. It’s going to hurt, there’s no way around it.

My heart insists that it doesn’t care. Any hurt is worth it to be near Miles while we can.

Maybe we’ll have to part someday, but wouldn’t I rather spend the days I could at his side?

“It’s going to hurt,” I say, so sure of it that it already makes my heart ache. “Hugo wouldn’t hurt us.”

But inside of me, I know. I don’t love Hugo, and I’m not sure I ever will.