Just One Kiss - J. Saman Page 0,47
hit with the sucker punch. Followed by an untouchable truth. I will never love anyone the way I love this woman. And I have no idea what to do about that.
Chapter Eighteen
LONDON
Betsy howls like a bitch in heat as I put on Christmas music. I throw her a glare and she tosses one right back at me. “Girl, you gotta expand your musical pallet. There is more to life than Taylor Swift.”
She’s not buying it, barking again as Mariah Carey sings about how all she wants for Christmas is me. Well, you know what I mean. Miles has been quiet since our interlude in his studio earlier. We cleaned up and he put on a movie for me while he got working on dinner. A dinner he wouldn’t let me help with.
Only, I’m not in the mood to watch a movie.
I’m too restless.
The snow stopped about an hour ago, and with it, the ticking of the countdown began.
He hasn’t said as much, but I already know that when he drives me up to my parents’ tomorrow morning, that’s it. He’s not staying. He’s letting me go.
And wow. I mean, just wow. That seriously hurts.
I get it.
His life has certainly not been a bed of roses. Especially in the love department, but come the fuck on. I don’t know what to say. What to do. We live different lives in different states, and he’s a man who is not all that adept at bridging gaps.
I’m not either, truth be told, but I wouldn’t mind a little fight from him.
I think that’s all it would take for me. A little fight.
“Miles,” I shout as Michael Bublé croons an old classic with a new twist. “Come dance with me.”
I get a grunt.
“Miles!”
His head peeks out from around the corner. “Yes, firefly?” Those sexy eyebrows bounce as do his full lips.
God, this man just fucking does it for me.
“Come dance with me, stud. I’m talking all the dips and twirls here.”
“All the dips and twirls?”
“And whatever else you’ve got up those manly sleeves of yours.”
Betsy barks, still annoyed at my choice in music.
Miles tosses her a treat as he swoops in, taking me in his arms and instantly tossing me back, my head dives down like a pelican going for a fish. My hands fly back, fingers scraping his pretty hardwood floor, and suddenly, I’m upright again, my hair falling all over the place.
Miles throws me a devilish wink before taking me by the hand and twirling me in the direction of the fireplace. I belt out a laugh, my smile unstoppable as he spins me back, catching me with a hand on my lower back, digging me straight into his body.
“How was that?”
“Top it off with a kiss and it’s my dream come true.”
“Can’t have anything but, now can we?” Then he does, in fact, top it off with a long, searing, pulse-racing, knee-weakening, kiss for the ages.
He drags himself away, our foreheads touching as we drop this down into a slow dance. He holds me close as we sway, the fire crackling and the music streaming, and it’s perfect. Just so perfect. Except for the knock on the door.
Both of us jar back, eyes wide and blinking at each other.
Betsy goes nuts, barking and scratching at the door like this is the best thing to happen to her ever. A guest. Miles does not look pleased.
“I’m going to answer that,” he announces.
“Okay.”
“You wait here.”
“I will.”
He frowns, kissing my lips and then heading for the door. For some reason, something inside of me sinks faster than the Titanic. And that feeling of sinking or drowning or helplessness only increases as Miles opens the door and Fletcher is standing there, wearing a fucking livery uniform and an uncomfortable expression.
That is until his eyes home in on mine. “Miss London.”
I might legit roll my eyes at that. Fletcher has known me since before I was even in diapers if you get my drift. Only I’m too shocked at his appearance to do much of anything other than gawk. “Fletcher?”
“Your father sent me,” he explains, and somehow he ends up inside Miles’s house, the door shuts and then an awkward silence hits all of us.
Miles’s hurt gaze finds mine. “I thought you told your father I wanted to drive you up.”
I swallow. “I did.”
“Yes, sir,” Fletcher starts. “But Mister Canterbury did not want to trouble you more than you’ve already been troubled. The snow stopped and the roads have been plowed enough for me to drive