“Miles. That’s not nice.”
“She always thought I was reading too much into it,” he says. “But I think they were worried I couldn’t give Petra everything they want for her.”
“Then they’re not only mean, they’re also stupid.”
“They had a point,” he says. “I’ve never been good under pressure. I would’ve fucked it up eventually.”
“Based on what?” I demand.
His smile is rueful. “History.”
For several seconds, neither of us speaks. We just slowly sway and turn with the music. “Thank you, by the way,” he murmurs. “For what you said to Peter.”
It takes me a second to remember what I said, and then the lava starts coursing through my face. “Sorry about that.”
Miles laughs. “No, don’t be embarrassed.” He touches my cheek for a second, then feels my blush with the backs of his fingers. “It was amazing. I think Peter’s soul left his body for a second.”
The flirty, nervous buzz in my chest dies at the mention of Peter. I know I’ve been a willing participant in this whole game, but the closer I get to Miles, the harder it is to tell what’s real.
“Well, what’s embarrassing about copping to a roommate sex fantasy right after your ex’s hot fiancée calls you dowdy?”
“She did not call you dowdy,” Miles says. He twirls me, pulls me back in closer, our bodies fitting snugly together, every point of friction its own little sun, heat and gravity and heat and gravity.
“Defend her all you want, Miles—”
“I’m not defending her,” he says. “I know she didn’t say that, because there’s no way she thinks that. I mean, obviously, you’re . . .” His eyes cascade down me.
“It’s fine,” I promise. “I’m fine with how I look, except when I have to stand next to my ex’s superhot girlfriend and really underscore the trade-up.”
Miles stops moving abruptly. “Don’t say that.”
“It’s true,” I say. “Something better always comes along. That’s my curse.”
“Daphne.” He gives a low, scraping laugh, but his eyes stay serious. “You can’t see him right now, but Peter is literally standing in a gap at the edge of the dance floor, watching your every move, and in a second, I’m going to turn you ninety degrees and kiss you again, and when I stop, I want you to look to your left and see his face. Then you can tell me if he thinks his new life, without you, is something better.”
And as soon as he says the last word, he does it. Moves us in a half-turn, drops his nose along mine, and it’s like we picked up where that last kiss left off, everything already more urgent, intense from the jump.
And I’m not wondering what Peter thinks of all this when Miles parts my lips with his tongue, his hand sliding firmly down to the curve of my ass. And when Miles’s other hand winds itself into my hair, and my spine arches up into him of its own accord, I’m thinking only of the spicy scent of ginger, the taste of espresso macaron in his mouth, the feeling of his erection between us.
For a few seconds, I’m nothing but a body seeking more of his.
I only regain awareness when a couple of old ladies in beaded mother-of-the-bride-type sets start hooting and clapping for us at a nearby table.
Miles touches my chin with his thumb as he sweeps one last kiss over my mouth. He straightens up. “Look left,” he says scratchily.
But I don’t. Instead, I step back. Then I turn and run.
19
I plan to dart into a bathroom and catch my breath, convince my brain to quit spinning. But I don’t pass a bathroom, so instead I find myself bursting through the front doors so forcefully that the valet yelps in surprise.
“Sorry!” I stammer, moving toward the dark parking lot.
“Daphne!” Miles calls, jogging after me. “Daphne?”
I slow to a stop and try to seem and be as normal as possible. “I’m okay,” I say, facing him. “Just got a little dizzy.”
“Shit.” He comes closer, touches my waist as he hunches to peer into my eyes. “You’re probably dehydrated. Let’s sit down and I’ll get you some water.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s fine. I think I should just head home.”
“I’ll get the keys from the valet,” he says.
“No,” I insist. “I’ll grab a cab.”
He studies me with the wary concern of a veterinarian examining a dog who just scarfed down a full espresso chocolate cake. “If you’re leaving, I am too.”
Oh, right.
Because while my brain was claustrophobically swirling with Miles, he hasn’t forgotten that the love of his life is in there with another man.
“So you’ll wait here?” He ducks his head again. “You won’t run if I go get the keys?”
I shake my head. He lets go of my elbow and jogs back across the lot. By the time he gets back, I’m a little calmer.
He opens my door for me first, then goes to get in the driver’s seat, starting the engine. “When did it start?”
