Best Man

I think we might have slept five minutes, total. I woke up with the sun streaming in through the blinds, his arms wrapped around me, his cock, hard again, nestled against my ass. His fingers entwined with mine, his breathing warm and even on my shoulder.

One, two, three ripped condom packets were scattered over the pristine floor. He’d fed the used ones into an open Budweiser can, the only thing on his night table besides the alarm clock.

It said 7:09 AM. No wonder the rest of the house was quiet. They were probably all still asleep.

I smiled and rolled over, feeling deliciously sore and well-fucked. Like, I finally got what all the fuss was about sex.

I peered at his face. Surprisingly, he was even hotter in the light of day, with the trace of a five o’clock shadow on his jaw and his messy hair falling in his eyes.

I kissed his cheek, savoring his yummy smell, and his eyes blinked open. “Hey,” he said, his voice gruff. “What time is it?”

“Seven.”

He untangled his body from mine and sat up in bed. “Shit. I’ve got to get to rugby practice.”

“Oh.” I reached for my camisole. “I’ll be out of your hair in a minute.”

He stood up, and we did that little fumbling dance around each other, trying to find our clothes. When I straightened to pull on my camisole, I realized he was watching me—or more specifically, my boobs—with this admiring gleam in his eyes. I never liked my chest, but he seemed to love it.

Suddenly, he nudged me back down onto the bed and fell on top of me. “I kind of like you in my hair. In my hair and in my bed.”

I giggled as he kissed and nuzzled my neck. “I had fun last night.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

He glanced at the clock and grinned at me. “I have a little time. Come here.”

He delved a hand under my abdomen and swung me around on the bed, lifting me over him so that we were in a sixty-nine. This was something I’d really never done before. I’d never had a guy’s cock in my mouth. But as I sucked him off and felt him lapping at my folds, I decided I needed to do this a hell of a lot more often.

I didn’t know cocks well, but this up-close-and-personal examination confirmed it: Miles Foster had an amazing cock.

And the way he was working between my legs, lapping at me like I was the most delicious thing ever while begging me to come on his face, it made me orgasm in record time.

I sucked him off, greedily swallowing his salty cum, another college first for me. Afterwards, we lay there immobile, panting, until I climbed over him and kissed him. We were so fucking salty and sweaty and dirty, and I could tell from the satisfied smile on his face that he didn’t mind one bit.

A little while later, he kissed my temple and peeled his body off of me.

“Unfortunately, now I really I do have to go. I’ve got to get down to the fields.”

I sat up and looked around for my panties. He found them first, on top of his desk. He handed them to me.

“I can come back,” I offered.

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I felt like a stupid freshman. Was it obvious how desperate I was to be with him again?

But I was sure this wasn’t your ordinary one-night stand. This was more like fate. Like he and I had been thrown together for a reason that had nothing to do with the mind-blowing sex we’d just had.

“Yeah. We have parties every night after eleven. Stop by,” he said, pulling on his boxer briefs. He sounded so cool again. Too cool and nonchalant, like he did this every night.

“Okay…” I said, scuffing into my flip-flops.

So that was the way these things went. So casual. He didn’t have my number or any way to contact me. I wondered if he even remembered my name. So we’d go our separate ways and he might never see me again. And from the way he was acting, it sounded like that was perfectly fine with him.

My whole heart ached with disappointment as I skulked across his museum-like room while he was stripping the sheets from the futon, as if he wanted to erase all memory of me, so soon. “Well, bye.”

I reached for the door. I expected him to say something, but he didn’t. I can come back! Why had I said that? I started to hate myself for saying that. What a loser.

When I got to the bus stop, I remembered that he’d said he would walk me there.

That must’ve been a line. As was the one about me being so insanely beautiful, and that being the least interesting thing about me. If it was, wouldn’t he want to see me again and find out? He was so smooth, he must’ve done things like this all the time.

Yeah, I’d fallen like a stupid freshman. He was ridiculously hot, and the things he’d made me feel in bed? He was a lady killer. He hadn’t struck me at first as that type of person, but of course, that’s who he was. It wasn’t possible for a guy that hot, smart, and good in bed to not have an ego.

So I was a little disappointed when I got back to my dorm. I’d deluded myself last night into thinking that this was a romantic, love-at-first-sight kind of thing. That the reason why I thought he was so amazing was because he was my other half. That he also saw how well we fit together and wouldn’t let me get away.

The girls all wanted to know just where I went and who I’d hooked up with. I was embarrassed that he hadn’t asked for my number, so I hadn’t said a word. They’d all met brothers and had their own adventures, so I listened politely to those, all the while thinking of Miles.

He had me on a string. I had to go back there.

Three days later, when we went back for another party, Miles was nowhere in sight. I realized he wasn’t just being cool. He really didn’t want to see me the way I wanted to see him.

But Aaron was there. And he was really sweet.

He wasn’t as drunk as before, and when he offered me a beer this time, he returned with one. We got to talking, and the rest is history.

It’s colder than ever outside, but I’m sweating. Miles never told me that I mattered. That he cared.

He’d disappeared after our hook-up. He was always busy, either at the library, or at practice, or class. I don’t think I saw him again until two months afterwards, when I’d convinced myself he was a figment of my imagination and had begun dating Aaron.

It’s so funny. I can remember everything about that night with Miles but I can’t be sure what happened in the following weeks that cemented my relationship with Aaron. I know that in my overwhelming disappointment and heartbreak, I took things super slow with Aaron, insisting we go on dates. I know I fantasized nonstop about being in bed with Miles again. I know that because of Miles, I didn’t have another one-night stand, ever again. As good as it was, the aftermath left a bad taste in my mouth. I waited for months before sleeping with Aaron, on the night of the winter formal, which, I seem to remember, Miles never attended.

No, he pulled a complete Casper for the rest of that semester.

And yet he’s blaming this on me?

I yank open the door so hard I nearly dislocate my shoulder. I stomp in, ready to give him hell for fucking everything up.

He’s standing there, at the other end of the room, hands in his pockets, staring out the window, at the rapidly lightening sky.

He loves me.

Oh, my god.

It’s at that moment that the door swings back and slams into my ass and the back of my head because I haven’t gone all the way through. It shoves me inside abruptly with a loud thud.

I don’t even feel that pain. The pain is somewhere else, somewhere deeper.

Because I think I just might be in love with him, too.

And this is a big, big problem.

“Miles!” I call, my voice cracking, my knees wobbling.

He turns.

I narrow my eyes at him. “Why didn’t you ask for my number? Why didn’t you want to see me again?” I accuse, clenching my fists. If he was closer, I’d be pummeling his chest. I want to, so bad. “You’re too late!” I yell, the words painful in my throat.

“I know. I know I am. I told you. I didn’t know what to do. I’d never felt like that before. And when I finally got my head around shit, you and Aaron were together.”

I bridge the distance between us, fists still clenched. “Why? Why would you never tell me? Why would you do this to me?”

He looks down at me, his big blue eyes full of pain. “Damn, Lia. I just wanted you to be happy.”

I laugh bitterly. “You think this makes me happy?”

His jaw clenches even tighter, a muscle ticking madly in the back. “No. I guess it doesn’t.”

My stomach knots even tighter. “You’re damned right, it doesn’t. If you had the chance to do it again, what would you have done? Huh? Tell me! What?”

He stares at me, so intent I suddenly stop breathing, his eyes raking down to my lips as if he’s imagining what he’d like to do with them. To own them, like his best friend feels like he does. “I can’t do it again, that’s the point Lia…and you’re in love with Aaron.”

“I don’t know what I am!” I cry shamefully, furious now. At him, at life, at Aaron, at everything. “All I know is that I wanted more of you. I wanted you. I was fucking obsessed with you—but you made me feel like I wasn’t good enough.”

“I made you feel that?”

“Not that night! The morning after. When you just…bailed. I thought you’d gotten me out of your system and that was that.”

His eyes blaze. “You think I’d get you out of my system that fast?”

No. Because the second he asks that, I know that everything after was the mistake.

This is what’s right.

Miles takes the final step that’ll bring us toe-to-toe, and his eyes, continually asking permission, never leave mine. He slips a hand behind my head and pulls the tie from my hair; my hair falls loose over my shoulders.

His hand stays behind my neck. I tilt my face up to his, my breath choppy.

His mouth sweeps over mine, gently.

I’ve never kissed a man with a beard before. But it feels good. Manly. Hot. Like home.

I practically dive into the next kiss, wrapping my arms around his back and keeping him there. I open my mouth and let him slip his tongue inside.

He licks into me, growling softly. Like this, my mouth, to him, is home too. Then he gets excited, starts devouring a wet path down my throat, delivering hot, hungry nibbling kisses with his beard that would probably tickle if I wasn’t so turned on. His tongue trails over my jaw, greedy, starving.

My whole body feels like a bazooka that’s just about to go off. Miles tangles his hand in the hair at the base of my skull and draws my mouth back to his. His lips crush over mine and he kisses me, hard, his tongue claiming my mouth. But I’m claiming what I want, too. I throw my whole body into this kiss, because I can feel it everywhere. Crave him like I crave air. And I’m using everything I can to taste, feel, explore, devour him back. Lips. Teeth. Tongue. Hands.

With frustration, with vengeance, with love so intense I can’t even call it love yet. Maybe not ever.

Miles groans when he pulls away, maybe surprised I can pack such passion into the way I kiss him.

I ease back, licking my lips, preparing to apologize, when Miles grabs the back of my head and pulls me back to him, his forehead against mine, his breath against mine, his whole voice rumbling against me. “Fucking hell. I never thought you’d kiss me like this again. Look at me like that again.”

He backs me over to the bench and then swoops besides me and sits down, dragging me onto his lap like a caveman. I don’t even mind, cause I’m already kissing him again with everything I have. The moment he started pulling me to his lap, my mouth had already fastened to his, getting sucked in return. I don’t even want to come up for air. I feel like I’ve missed five years of the way things were supposed to be, like this is my only chance in my life to feel him again.

Nothing else matters; it’s like nothing exists but this moment. Me. And Miles. Ever single, ever elusive to me, suddenly very hard under my bottom, very hungry against my lips, craving me back.

God, craving me back so much it’s like his whole body is vibrating against me. Strong and pulsing and needing me.

Needing me like I need him. I’m starved of the way he tastes, smells, feels, sounds. I kiss him deeper and deeper, losing myself in him. Determined to have him, determined to get him out of my system.

Who am I kidding? I LOVE him in my system! He’s been in there for five years. He’s never really left, and now this craving, this need, this feeling, this connection, it’s stronger than ever.

And I don’t think I’ll ever be able to really let go.

Miles growls hungrily and breaks the kiss, cups my chin in his big hands. His eyes are on my lips like he’s sorry he had to pull away. “What are we doing here?”

He’s so adorably clueless.

His hair is falling in his face, his eyes hopeful and fierce on my face, and I reach over and sweep that strand of hair back.

Suddenly I understand something, and I edge a little farther back from him. “Before me…you never had a one-night stand before?”

He shakes his head, presses his forehead to mine. “Before you, they were not sufficiently interesting to me.”

“And after?”

He furrows his brows, as if wondering if this is a test. “Like I said, I kept trying to find what I had with you. I kept trying to feel for someone else…the way I felt for you.”

I can’t breathe.

“Correction,” Miles adds emphatically, “Feel. For you. Present tense.”

His eyes are sexy, hazy, dark. He looks so primal, breathing hard, hard for me. I pull my knee over him and straddle him, pressing myself into his erection, my hands on his jaw as I press a kiss to his mouth. “Miles.”

He closes his eyes. “God, this is so fucking right,” he breathes out, nuzzling my neck, dragging my scent through his nostrils. “Isn’t it?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. Right. Wrong. I don’t want to think, you won’t let me think,” I murmur, then I drag my lips over his scruff and tilt my neck to give him access to my throat. “Just kiss me. Please kiss me, Miles.”

He reaches a finger up and gently pushes my hair away from my shoulder, gazing up at me like I’m some priceless treasure he can’t believe he finally has. His hand slips into the cardigan and grazes my breast through my thin t-shirt. He murmurs, “Here.”

I pull the cardigan down, unhook my bra. “Please.”

I pull the cardigan off my arms and lift my t-shirt over my head, tossing it aside. I shrug off my bra.

His eyes start twinkling in amusement, as if he can’t believe I’m no longer shy, but at the same time is very pleased by this new discovery. Now, I’m straddling him just wearing my leggings, silently watching him, daring him to make the next move.

He fixes his eyes on my breasts and licks his lips, like a boy who’s first in line at a sweets shop and can’t decide what he wants to sample first.

“Fuck, you’ve grown,” he murmurs, reaching out and brushing his thumb against one nipple. It hardens instantly. His eyes are pure fire on my skin. “How can you not think you’re sexy as hell, Dahlia?”

I shiver when he says my full name.

He raises his gaze. His lips tilt in a devastating smile, but then he gets a serious look again. “Is this revenge on Aaron?” he asks, tipping my chin back to force our eyes to lock.

I’m breathless, thoughtless. All I know is him right now.

I’m hardly aware of what he just asked me.

When I’m too breathless to answer, Miles growls, slow and rough. “You know, I don’t care.”

Suddenly he ducks as he squeezes my breasts in his huge, warm hands and buries his face between them. He cups them both and suckles one breast until I go nearly mad, tugging the nipple with his teeth. The wet sounds of his tonguing fill the room as he lavishes attention on my breasts. And I realize I don’t care, either.

Sometimes we misjudge situations, think it is more than it is, or don’t realize how big it is until it’s too late.

Right now, I don’t care about anything except the feel of his hands and mouth on my body. His hunger and my own. The urgency in his hands as he tugs my leggings down slightly over my hips. The frantic way I wiggle on his lap, over his erection, until he finds the V of my panties. And how reverently and possessively he cups my sex, rubbing his fingers over me.

I gasp as he delves a finger under the band, flirting along the pubic hair. I had my first Brazilian wax but left a little bit of a landing strip for Hawaii. He touches it and groans in appreciation, pulling an answering groan from me.

He slips between my folds and begins stroking my clit, his eyes never leaving mine.

Forehead to forehead, I rest my arms on his shoulders as he slips a finger into me. I raise myself up to give him better access.

He takes it, pumping the first one, adding another finger. I moan as he moves, faster and faster, rocking back and forth on my knees with his hand moving furiously in my panties.

“Come for me, Lia. You’re so fucking sexy when you come.”

When I start to, when my insides start to quiver and contract against his hand, he pulls away to watch me, a look of pure male satisfaction on his face.

I come, and I come, and I come, so hard and so long that I swear the mountain around us moves.

I throw myself against him when I finish, hardly able to control my shivering. His hands cup the small of my back and he nuzzles my neck again. We sit there, fused together, my cheek on his shoulder.