Page 112 of Lavish

He was quiet. The silence was so long, I almost wished I’d kept quiet.

“I wasn’t ready either,” he admitted. “I think part of me proposed just to keep you. Lock it down before you changed your mind.”

It was my turn to look at him.

“You can do a lot better than me, in fact, you can do it now. I… You didn’t just treat me like the ditzy best friend to the most popular guy in town. You saw something in me that no one else ever has. You pushed me. Why you think I kept stealing all those clients from you over the years? I wanted to be your equal. But being with you back then—it felt like the first thing I got right,” Miles said.

I turned fully toward him, the sheets rustling between us. His face was half-shadowed in the dark, but I could still see the tension in his jaw.

“You inspire the hell out of me, Sunny. You always have.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t choose us,” I said quietly. “I was scared. Of losing my family. Of choosing wrong. Of how much I loved you and how fast it all happened. I thought if I held on, everything I’d imagined for myself would fall apart, but when I got it… It really wasn’t what I needed.”

His gaze flicked to mine, something raw in it now. “You did what you had to.”

“No,” I whispered. “I did what was easiest. You were right.”

He stared at me for a long, loaded moment. Then his hand reached across the space between us, his palm brushing the side of my neck.

“You still taste like pomegranate,” he murmured, the memory flickering behind his eyes. “Sweet, a little sharp…”

I let out a breath, and he forced me to meet his eyes.

Then he kissed me.

His mouth moved slow at first, patient, but hungry. His tongue teased along the seam of my lips until I opened for him, and then there was no patience left. Just heat. Pressure. Memory. His tongue slid against mine. I moaned into his mouth, and let myself melt into the mattress.

I kissed him like I’d never stopped. Like I’d always meant to come back.

His hands found my hips, drawing me closer till I was flush against with him. Miles let his lips fall from mine, across my jaw and cheek, and down my neck, where I knew he would feel my pulse beating out of control, and I gripped his shoulders.

“Miles,” I gasped.

He didn’t stop. One hand slid beneath the hem of my slip, dragging it up slowly—inch by inch—until the fabric pooled at my waist.

Then he shifted, lowering himself between my thighs, guiding one of my legs over his shoulder.

His breath grazed the inside of my knee.

“I missed this,” he murmured, voice husky. “Missed you.”

I felt him pull my panties to the side, and kiss once at my clit, making me jolt. His eyes locking on to mine from between my thighs, then his fingers slid inside, slow and sure, working me open like he was tracing the map back to myself. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d been in a position like this—with someone who saw all my broken edges and still wanted me.

He scissored his fingers inside, curling them upward to hit my G-spot. I arched off the mattress, breath catching in a way that made my chest ache.

“If I do this, you gon’ behave?” he cooed, and before I could answer, another smack to my pussy caused me to squeal. “Huh… I can’t hear you.”

That first lick from his tongue sent a shock straight to my core. My toes curled involuntarily as heat pooled, spreading faster than I expected. I pushed his head lightly, nails digging into his scalp. Miles blinked, slightly taken aback, then smiled against me, his nose bumping the hood of my sensitive mound, before slipping his tongue inside and curling deep.

The sensation was electric—intense and overwhelming—and I gripped the headboard, fingers clawing the wood as if it could anchor me against the wave crashing through my body.

I wanted to run. To hide. To shut it all down.

But I didn’t.

Because with every stroke of his tongue, every flick against the places I’d buried deep inside myself, I felt something else breaking through.

The walls I’d built, the cold armor I’d worn to survive—it started to crumble.