“What’s with that face?” Miles said, his smile fading.
Ian stared at him intently.
All traces of amusement vanished from Miles’s face now. Miles wet his lips, watching him as Ian propped himself on an elbow and leaned down to him. Ian could taste Miles’s desire to be kissed.
Ian didn’t kiss him. Kissing him would only make everything worse.
But he still couldn’t resist putting his hand over Miles’s pale neck, over one of the bruises at the base of his throat. “We shouldn’t have done this.”
“Why?” Miles murmured, his fingers burying in Ian’s hair as he stared blatantly at Ian’s mouth. “Are you having a gay freak-out?”
Stop looking at me this way, Christ.
Ian licked his own lips, looking between Miles’s dilated pupils and parted pink lips. The air between them was thick with terrible tension and longing, as if they hadn’t already shared multiple kisses and orgasms. It was as baffling as it was maddening. The more time he spent around this British boy, the more he wanted to consume him and mark him up instead of losing interest in him.
“No,” Ian said roughly and rolled off the bed before he could do something he would regret. He didn’t look at Miles as he went through his morning routine and started dressing. He could feel Miles’s gaze on him, but he didn’t look. Finally, Miles got up and went into the ensuite.
Ian breathed out.
He could hear the water running. He could hear Miles brushing his teeth.
Then silence.
Ian had never been so aware of another person when they weren’t even in the same room.
He was tying his tie when Miles returned to the bedroom. He marched determinedly toward Ian.
“Look, there’s no need for this to be so awkward,” Miles said, stopping in front of him. He was smiling crookedly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be pushy. If you don’t want to do this again, it’s absolutely fine. Really. You don’t have to explain yourself.”
Looking at that forced but brave little smile, Ian gritted his teeth.
Turn away, Caldwell. The door is three steps away.
Three fucking steps away, but it might as well be on the other side of the planet.
“Damn you.” Ian yanked the boy close and slammed their mouths together. It was terrifying and exhilarating how quickly Miles responded, all but climbing him and kissing back, his mouth pliant and needy.
Ian tore himself from that eager mouth with far more effort than he would have liked.
“I have to go.” He barely recognized his own voice, so low and hoarse it was.
Miles nodded dazedly, still looking at him with such longing and need that Ian just had to kiss him again. And again, and again, and again.
By the time he wrenched himself away, he was so hard it actually hurt to walk.
But walk he did.
He stopped by the door, put a hand on the handle.
He looked back.
Miles stood where Ian had left him, lips slightly swollen and red, cheeks flushed, and his eyes glassy with desire.
Ian wanted to swallow him whole.
He was already taking a step back toward Miles when the ringing of his phone brought him back to his senses.
Ian strode away, swearing through his teeth.
Chapter 12
Miles had never felt like this.
He had no idea anymore what was going on between him and Ian, but he felt… he felt giddy, smiling into space, dropping things, and just being generally stupid. Rationally, he knew he had nothing to feel giddy about. Whatever this thing was, it was too fragile and uncertain. Downright crazy. Ian had made it clear that he thought it had been a mistake, and rationally, Miles knew there were countless reasons why this was a terrible idea.
But he still couldn’t banish the warm, giddy feeling whenever he thought of Ian’s arms around him, his blue eyes, his mouth, his scent. Fuck, his scent. Miles had never really noticed how people smelled, but Ian’s earthy, masculine scent made him want to bury his nose against Ian’s throat, his armpit, his crotch, and just breathe.
Part of him couldn’t believe his own thoughts. He’d always made fun of his siblings and in-laws for the besotted way they behaved around their significant others, and now he was acting far worse than them, over a man who wasn’t his and never would be his. Over a man who was from a different world.
Ian was a successful businessman, a billionaire, a CEO of multiple corporations, a real grown-up eleven years his senior. Ian was a straight man, the heir to an old, powerful family, and one of the most eligible bachelors in the country. He no doubt had hundreds of women lining up to be the next Mrs. Caldwell.
Miles was just some confused British student who wasn’t even sure what his sexuality was. At this point, he hoped he was gay or bi, and not demisexual, because that would mean he was already in too deep if even thinking about Ian aroused him now. It wasn’t encouraging that there was an element of complete trust and security that attracted him to Ian.