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His words aren't a warning, they're a detonator for his release.

I feel him shudder as he spills down my throat and that's all it takes for the fire in my core to burn white-hot and my breathing to become impossibly quick as my own orgasm rips through me. I lift my head, look Miles in the eyes, and swallow.

His knuckles turn white as he grips the leather seat underneath him. “Who knew mi querida esposa would have such a filthy mouth.” He grabs ahold of my hand, bringing my fingers to his lips, gently pressing a tender kiss to each one before bringing them into his mouth and sucking them clean. My eyes are wide and I know right here and now that Miles Cameron has ruined me for any other man. I will never be sexually satisfied the way I am with him.

My body still trembles beneath me but I’m able to feel the car slowing to a stop now. I climb back up into the seat next to him and he’s looking at me with an expression I’ve never seen. His hand cups the back of my neck as he pulls me into him. His soft lips press into mine and I’m taken aback by the tenderness. He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth and I grip his forearm, needing something to hold on to. His kiss is soft but intense at the same time. It feels like everything I’ve ever wanted and yet I can’t get enough. His hands run up my thigh and I know he can feel my pebbled skin. This kiss feels different like I’m definitely not pretending anymore.

Miles is the one to break away first. He drops his forehead to mine before giving me a quick kiss on my nose and then sitting back in his seat. I’m trying to catch my breath while looking at the smile on his face.

“What other things do you want, Camila?”

Miles

“Yo.”Jonas tosses me a wrapped bagel as he enters my office and finds his usual seat on the couch. “So…how was the little art studio thing?” he asks around a mouthful of food.

I cock my head, narrowing my eyes. A possessive feeling consumes me when I think about what happened at that studio—and the drive home—and I wonder what Jonas knows.

“What? Taylor said Mrs. Cameron was heading to look at a space and since you left early, I assumed you went with her.”

I ignore the way my lungs constrict when he calls herMrs. Cameron.Oblivious to my tightening chest, he continues to house his bagel as if he’s never eaten before.

“What's up with you two?” I ask him.

His head lulls back, rolling his eyes with it and he's lucky he doesn't choke. “Oh my god.” He shakes his head with a smile. “Can’t two people just be friends anymore?”

“Two people can, yes. You, however, have never had a female friend before, so I’m just curious.”

“She's cool. That's it. We hang outplatonically,not sure if you're familiar with the word.” He bites a mouthfulof his bagel. “I’m not looking for anything more, plus the girl has got some serious commitment issues anyway. She actually reminds me a little of you. You know, just with a cuter face.” He flashes me a sarcastic smile.

“I don't know why I put up with you.”

“It's my good looks,” he shrugs, “and the bagels. So, get on with it, how was the studio?”

It took me one day to come to the conclusion that I couldn’t avoid Camila if I was chained to a wall. I’ll admit the text I got from my father rattled me. The following day I paced my office with a raging headache before I realized I wasn’t going to get shit done until I spoke to her. I had every intention of explaining why I shut down on the pier that morning but then I got home and found a sight I’d never thought I’d see. Camila was cooking in my kitchen and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. I wanted to just enjoy that moment for a little while. But then she made a comment about how I don’t open up to her. I shoved the negative feelings about my father away and I told her the last happy memory I had of my mother. Opening up and sharing things with her isn’t difficult. I’ve just operated a certain way for so long, but I shouldn’t be surprised she feels that way. I can’t expect her to know how I’m feeling, especially when I think about how we communicate in such different ways. It’s not bad, and my knowledge on the topic is limited, but if I had to guess, that's a normal thing that people in relationships need to learn.

And the reality is, it’s not something I ever gave a second thought to because when I approached Camila with this arrangement I really believed I could keep things simple between us—business. Nothing more, nothing less. And then when my attraction to her proved it couldn’t be tamed I was willing to toe the line. But then I saw her heart and passion. When it came to her mind, I couldn’t stop myself anymore. I’ve been falling for Camila. And I can’t even blame her for being confused. I did tell her that night was a mistake but I didn’t mean it the way she took it. It kills me that she thought for even a second that I regretted that.

So yesterday when I left work early—again—I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I certainly didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did, but I can’t say I fully regret it either. When I saw her in that studio and saw her battling herself I knew it wasn’t the time to bring it up. But after—my hands flex under my desk just thinking about that car ride home. When she told me she wanted something more too, that it wasn’t just in my head. I squeeze my eyes shut at the memory of her giving herself so freely to me. Tonight. Tonight I’m going to tell her how real this is. That I’m all in.

“Jonas, get back to your office, your briefs aren’t going to submit themselves.” Samantha's voice is soft velvet and lethal poison somehow wrapped in one as she interrupts us, charging through my office.

“Awe, come on Sam,” he holds out his arms to her but she continues to stare him down.

“I swear to God, you're worse than my children sometimes,” she scolds him.

But not even Samantha could get Jonas down. He wads up his bagel wrapper, shooting it in the trash can with an over-extended arch, “Kobe!”

Samantha’s face is unforgiving. Jonas leaves with no other words but I don’t miss the peace sign he throws over his head when he’s halfway down the hall.

“Why do we tolerate him?” she asks me.

And even though I joke about the same thing, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth when someone else does it. “Because his billables are the highest at the firm and they don’t make people as loyal as Jonas anymore. Honestly, we don’t deserve him.”

She smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes. When she doesn't sit down, she unknowingly has given herself up. It's her tell. She always stands when she's about to have a conversation that requires her to feel like the most powerful person in the room. So naturally, I double down. I lean back casually in my chair, letting her have the floor.

“I know your marriage is bullshit.”

The blood collectively drains from my body. I get lightheaded and wonder if I’m going to slide right out of this chair, into a puddle on the floor. My fingers tap against my lap keeping the slight tremble there less noticeable. I keep my voice as bored as I can muster when I lean forward and ask, “What are you talking about?”