Chapter 16

I back up a step but catch my ankle wrong and start to stumble.

In a flash, Miles reaches out. With his arms around my waist, he catches me and then brings me against him so that I am pressed to his chest.

“So careless,” he grumbles. The words reverberate in his chest under my ear. “Have you forgotten that your ankle is still injured?”

My ankle doesn’t hurt all that much anymore, though I suppose I have been still favoring it since I twisted it that night I met Miles.

Suddenly, Miles shifts his weight, drops one of his arms lower, and scoops me up into a princess carry.

People that stopped paying attention to us immediately look at us again as Miles creates this scene. My cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“Miles,” I start to plead.

“If I put you down, you’ll only try to run away and injure yourself further. No. It’s better to keep you like this.”

“Others are looking.”

“Let them look,” Miles says. “Let them feel jealous that they can’t hold you in their arms.”

I’m really not sure that’s what happening. If anyone is jealous of anyone, it’s those watchful girls jealous that they aren’t the one Miles is holding. No one here is upset they can’t hold a middle-aged housewife.

Yet Miles’s determination – as well as his grip on me – is unyielding. He’s so confident, so sure, so… strong.

During our night together, at one point, he had wrapped his arms around thighs and lifted me up to meet his hard thrusts. I shiver, remembering how deeply he had pushed inside of me then.

I had never felt that full or that cared for with Garnar. Only Miles showed me what true pleasure felt like.

Everything about Miles, when compared with Garnar, is sexy and attractive.

Garnar flounders when his demands are pushed back on. He starts yelling, insisting I’m purposefully disrespecting him. It’s a temper tantrum akin to a five-year old, not a full grown man.

With Miles, however, his tone stays confident and cool. It’s undeniably sexy, even when maybe it shouldn’t be. Especially when he’s refusing to put me down in front of a busy nightclub.

In the bedroom, though, when he leaned into a more dominant attitude…

“Wrap your legs around my waist,” he insisted, while we made love. When I did, he dropped his voice low. “Good girl.”

He bucked inside of me, hitting the bundle of nerves that made me scream.

“Scream my name,” he growled in my ear. “Tell everyone who it is that’s fucking you so good.”

“M-Miles…”

“Louder.”

“Miles!”

Even now, the memories make my panties wet.

But that isn’t enough to distract me from the growing number of people looking at us in wonder and suspicion.

“Please, Miles. Put me down.” I lower my voice. “I’m a married woman.”

Miles stills. He lifts one lone brow as he gazes down at me. “You said you wanted a second round…”

My face burns so much I worry it might catch fire. I did say that, but I’m still not sure if I meant the words or if they had simply been intended as a weapon against Garnar. Either way, I couldn’t be seen like this yet.

Someone from the country club could see, and I doubt that Garnar would admit to asking for an open marriage.

What a double standard it is. Garnar could bring Thea to an event and parade her around as his girlfriend, but if I tried to do the same with Miles, I’d more than likely lose my job.

Appearances are everything, and unfortunately, a man’s is much more difficult to tarnish.

“I’m not divorced yet, Miles. Please put me down.”

He searches my face for a moment, then carries me to one of the bar stools and gently sets me down onto it. Once he releases me, he doesn’t go far. Instead, he keeps one arm draped over my back as he stands very close in front of me, blocking me from view from most of the club.

“Tell me why you are really here, Esther,” he commands.

How can I tell him the truth when I don’t even know what the truth is?

“I work for the Rockview Elite Country Club,” I say, blurting out the first thing that comes to mind.

He gives me a flat look. “I know that. How is that relevant?”

I clear my throat. “The Georges have already entered the planning stages for the next event. I wish to formally invite you and your father.”

Mr. and Mrs. George are big enough donors that any request or invitation from them can’t be ignored. Thank God I remembered the existence of this event just now, else I might have had to actually confide in Miles just how conflicted he makes me.

“What kind of event?” Miles narrows his eyes.

“Mounted shooting, on a course through the country club grounds.”

The Georges wanted an actual live hunt, but given some of the animal cruelty laws in the area, as well as the liability should someone actually get hurt, Mr. Carver convinced them that shooting at paper targets from horseback could be just as fun.

“They believe my father would enjoy that?” Miles asks with clear distain. His father is an aging man with poor eyesight. I have trouble imagining him on a horse.

I shouldn’t speak against clients of the country club, or Miles’s donors, but I feel a sort of kinship with Miles. Like I can tell him things and trust him to keep them secret. After all, he apparently hasn’t told a soul about our sleeping together, not even Garnar during their confrontation.

“The Georges only care about what the Georges enjoy,” I say. As Miles quirks a tiny smile, I lean back against his arm, relaxing somewhat. “But, many billionaires and other political figures will be there. I’m sure you won’t want to miss it.”

Miles hums noncommittedly.

Hunting for sport, legal or not, is a favorite pastime for the high society. As many loved their horses and their guns, shooting at inanimate targets should still be enough of a draw for most.

Miles stares at me for a moment more. Then, sighing, he runs a hand down his face. “Why are you really here, Esther? You could have called my assistant with this invitation. You didn’t have to come here under all these false pretenses.”

He’s right, and I don’t really have a way to gracefully dodge him while still saving face.

“I’m sorry,” I say, because I am. I should have my own feelings sorted out before trying to shove them onto anyone else. “I didn’t mean to mislead you.”

“Great…” Miles starts to pull away from me, removing his hand from my back to cross his arms over his chest instead. Immediately, I miss the warmth of his skin and his closeness.

“I’m sorry,” I say again, because once didn’t feel like enough.

Miles shakes his head. He sighs again, then straightens.

“Will your husband be there?” he asks.

A strange question. One that I probably shouldn’t indulge. But I still feel guilty for coming here and making him think… And being unsure…

“I imagine so,” I say. “Though I haven’t confirmed it with him yet.”

Miles’s gaze sharpens. “If he attends, who will he bring as his date this time?”