Chapter 53

That night, once the girls have gone to bed, I sit in my room with the door closed and locked and replay the day. I can’t stop thinking about talking with Miles. I was so sure that I had him convinced, only for him to back off – because why? Because he wants me?

Yet, as I think more on it, slowly I come to terms. Perhaps it was my research and my argument that did convince him in the end. But, per his desire to not mix business with pleasure, he went to Hugo with my terms and credited Amber instead.

I like to think that I helped Miles, by showing him the benefits working with the Harbinger News Company could bring to his campaign. Even if I couldn’t help myself personally.

This would also be a boon to Hugo and his network. I like Hugo, he’s always been kind to me.

Even though I don’t know the nature of Hugo and Logan’s tumultuous relationship, I’m still pleased this could all come together.

For these reasons, I retrieve my phone from my purse, open my text thread with Miles and begin typing.

Thank you for accepting the interview. Everyone was so surprised and excited.

I don’t for a second believe he accepted for me, but I’m still happy I could help him and he would be able to take advantage of the resource I uncovered. It gives me some kind of purpose; helps me feel like this wasn’t all for nothing.

Not expecting a reply, I set my phone down on the bed and then head into the bathroom where I change into my nightgown and brush my teeth.

Before my electric toothbrush can finish its two minute cycle, I hear my phone ring back in the bedroom. Quickly, I set aside my toothbrush and hurry to answer the call.

My heart leaps forward as I see Miles on the caller id.

“Hello?”

“What are you wearing?” he asks me, voice low and sexy. All of my thoughts come to a screeching halt. He chuckles at my pause, and then teases lightly. “Are you there, Esther? Have I broken your brain?”

“I’m here,” I say quickly, even more embarrassed for having been caught in distraction. “I was just… surprised…”

“So you won’t answer the question?”

Blushing furiously, I glance down at myself. “I’m not wearing anything special. Just a nightie.”

“With straps or sleeves?”

“Spaghetti straps,” I answer, even though I feel silly. “There’s nothing sexy about my outfit, Miles. I’m disappointing you.”

“I’ll be the judge of what’s sexy,” Miles says. “Trust me, Esther. You could be wearing a beat up old t-shirt and it’d be hot as sin.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m serious. You don’t know how men’s minds work, do you? Are you wearing a bra?”

“No,” I say. “I’m ready for bed. I don’t sleep in bras.”

“I thought not,” Miles says, and hums pleasantly. “See. Just like I said. Sexy.”

Looking down at myself, I suppose this nightie is slightly low cut. If I slide one of the straps off the shoulder, it’d almost be scandalous.

But I still don’t feel particularly attractive.

“Is your hair down?” Miles asks.

“Yes…”

“Hmmm.”

I huff a breath, growing annoyed now. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“Who’s making fun? Esther. I’m starting to get the distinct impression that you have no idea how unbelievably attractive I find you.”

I don’t hate the way I look, but I know I’m average at best. Since I’ve had my kids, I’m a bit plumper than I used to be. A few gray strands have been sneaking into my hair lately. And when I laugh, I’m starting to get lines beside my eyes.

Average as I am, I’m not the kind of woman that any man would lust after, especially a man as young and unbelievably handsome as Miles Hamilton. Even with his continued insistence that he wants me, I find it so hard to believe.

“You’ve been with that heartless asshole too long,” Miles says. “You can’t see how beautiful you are anymore.”

I can’t argue with that. Garnar hasn’t given me a compliment on my body in a very, very long time.

“Do me a favor. Do you have a mirror in your room?” he asks.

“I do. Over the dresser.”

“Good. Stand in front of it and start your camera app on your phone.”

I go through the motions, my heart picking up speed. I pray he isn’t teasing me again. God, I want Miles so much. If even a fraction of what he’s saying could be true…

Standing in front of the mirror, I look at my own reflection.

“I want you to take a picture of you, for me,” he says, his voice honey.

It’s one thing to have to look at myself, but to take a picture? “I don’t know…”

“I’ll walk you through it,” Miles says. “Do what I say, and try to see what I see, okay?”

I worried my bottom lip with my teeth for a moment, nervous. But also ridiculous. I’ve handled serious issues without batting an eye. Why is the thought of one picture making my heart beat so quickly!

“Are you in front of the mirror?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Good. Lower one of your nightgown straps down your shoulder. Let it dangle, but don’t pull too far. Show me the swell of your breast without revealing it all.” As he spoke, his voice was becoming rougher, more breathy. “The game is in the almost.”

Slowly, I slipped one of my straps over my shoulder and let it dangle as he instructed. Naturally the fabric of the nightie began to sag, revealing the curve of my breast.

“Did you do it?” Miles asks.

“Yes.”

“That’s my girl. Now rough up your hair a bit, like I’ve just run my fingers all through it. Tell me when you’ve done it.”

With my free hair, I run my fingers through my hair, fussing it some. In the mirror, it seems wilder now.

“I did it.”

“Good. Now for the finale.” He moans slightly and I hear a faint shifting. Is he… touching himself? To thoughts of me? “Put your hand on your thigh and bunch up the skirt of that nightgown. Don’t show me your pussy, but bring that fabric right to the edge.

I’m wearing panties, but I don’t tell him that. Instead, sneakily, I step out of them. Then doing as he asks, I slide the fabric up my thigh.

God, I look like a different person in the mirror, a wanton sex goddess, and I’m starting to feel like one too.

“Take that picture, Esther. Send it to me.”

I pull the phone long enough to take a picture. Looking at it, I’m unsure again. The lightings all wrong. I don’t look as good in 2d.

“Send it, baby,” Miles says in that rough, lust-rough voice that I couldn’t say no to even if I wanted to.

Before I can second guess myself even a moment longer, I send the picture to Miles.

“It’s on its way,” I tell him.

A moment passes. The shifting on the other line is more insistent.

“I got it,” he says. Another pause. Then a breathy curse, “Fuck, Esther.”

“Do you like it?” I ask, a touch nervous.

“Like it? Fuck. Do you want to see how much I like it? Do you want a picture of me?”

“Yes,” I say before I can even think otherwise.

He laughs, and even that is rough and sexy. “Whatever your heart desires.” His voice goes away from the phone for a moment, probably to take his picture, before he’s back. “I need to go before I say too much.”

“Okay,” I say, slightly disappointed.

“Enjoy the picture,” Miles says. “And know I’m thinking about you.”

The image comes through right as Miles hangs up.

Eagerly, I click it open and my eyes go wide.

There is Miles, shirtless, his pants open, his hard dick in his hand. His head’s thrown back. His ocean eyes stare deep into the camera.

I’m thinking about you, he’d said.

Right now, he’s thinking about me and he’s…

I trip over myself on my way to my bed, desperate to touch myself.