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Chapter Forty-Six

Lilianna

I’d finished cleaning up before I curled up into my nest, my phone in hand as I finally allowed myself to check the post Christopher had shared.

The video had garnered over two thousand likes in just a few hours, with comments still streaming in steadily.

I scrolled through them, my heart warming at the genuine responses.

This is what peace looks like.

I want to learn to cook like this. Where do I start?

The way the light hits the pasta... pure art.

Finally, content that doesn't make me feel inadequate. Just inspired.

Each comment felt like a small validation, proof that authenticity resonated in ways my parents' manufactured perfection never could.

I tugged the blanket tighter around my shoulders, sinking deeper into the softness of the nest. The scent of Wisteria flowers and cloves surrounded me, grounding me in the moment.

I could still smell the faint traces of garlic and herbs from earlier, the memory of Christopher's quiet guidance lingering like an aftertaste.

It wasn’t about the food, not really. It was the ease of it. The way I’d laughed—actually laughed—when flour had puffed up into the air like snowfall. A soft knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts.

I glanced up, my voice gentle. “Come in.” The door creaked open and Miles leaned in, his hair damp and curling slightly at the ends. He’d clearly just showered, and the scent of pine and fresh rain followed him in.

“Hey,” he said, stepping into the room. “I wasn’t sure if you were up.”

“I am.” I shifted a little to make space as he approached. “Just checking comments.”

His brow lifted as he sat at the edge of the nest. “Still going strong?”

“More than I expected.” I angled the phone so he could see, and he whistled low at the numbers.

“Well,” he said, nudging my knee lightly with his hand, “what did we tell you? The world doesn’t need you to be a brand, Lili. Just a heartbeat.”

My heart almost stopped at the name he called me. Lili, I have never been called anything but my full name before.

"Lili," I echoed softly, testing the nickname on my tongue. "No one's ever called me that before."

Miles's expression shifted, something like concern flickering across his features. "Is it okay? I didn't mean to—"

"I like it," I interrupted, surprising myself with how quickly the words came. "It feels... mine. Like something that belongs just to me."

His smile returned, softer this time, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Good. Because it suits you. Simpler. Less…stuffy."

"My parents would hate it," I said, a small laugh escaping me.

"All the more reason to use it," he replied, his voice carrying that quiet confidence I'd come to associate with him. He shifted slightly, his weight making the edge of the nest dip. "May I?" he asked, gesturing to the space beside me.

I nodded, making room for him. Miles settled beside me with careful precision, mindful not to disturb the carefully arranged pillows and blankets that made up my nest. The mattress dipped under his weight, and I found myself gravitating toward his warmth without conscious thought.

"I heard about your cooking lesson," Miles said, his voice casual but his eyes watchful. "Christopher hasn't stopped grinning since."

Heat rushed to my cheeks as I remembered Christopher's lips against mine, the way Julian had watched us with dark, hungry eyes. "It was... educational."

Miles chuckled, the sound low and warm. "I bet it was."

The teasing in his tone made me duck my head, but I couldn't help smiling. "Not just the cooking part," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes darkened slightly, and I watched as he swallowed, his throat working. "Julian mentioned that too."

"Did he?" I asked, suddenly curious about what exactly had been said after I'd left the kitchen.

Miles nodded, his fingers absently tracing patterns on the blanket near my knee.

"He said you were... blossoming." His fingers traced closer to my knee, not quite touching but near enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his skin.

"His exact words were that you're 'coming into your own in ways that make it hard to breathe sometimes. '"

The description made my heart flutter. "That's... poetic for Julian."

"You bring that out in him," Miles said simply. "In all of us, really."

I studied him in the soft evening light filtering through my curtains. Miles had always been the most enigmatic of the four—quiet where Christopher was exuberant, thoughtful where Julian was decisive, warm where Nicolaus was analytical. His green eyes held depths I hadn't fully explored yet.

"And what do I bring out in you?" I asked, surprising myself with my boldness. Miles's fingers stilled on the blanket, his gaze lifting to meet mine. Something flickered in his eyes—hunger, maybe, or vulnerability.

"Hope," he said finally, the word hanging between us with unexpected weight. "You make me hope again."

The simple honesty in his voice caught me off guard. I'd expected something lighter, perhaps even flirtatious, not this raw confession that seemed to come from somewhere deep within him.

"Hope for what?" I asked softly.

Miles studied me for a moment, his green eyes thoughtful in the dim light of my room.

"For connection that doesn't feel like a transaction.

For quiet moments that matter more than grand gestures.

" His hand moved from the blanket to cover mine, his touch gentle but grounding.

"For mornings where waking up feels like a gift, not an obligation. "

My breath caught in my throat. There was something profoundly intimate about his words—more intimate, somehow, than even the physical moments I'd shared with Julian and Christopher. Miles was offering me a glimpse of something vulnerable, something that felt sacred in its simplicity.

"Miles," I whispered, his name feeling different on my lips now—softer, more precious. My fingers turned beneath his, interlacing with his own. "I feel that too. This... peace I never knew I was missing."

His thumb traced gentle circles across my knuckles, the repetitive motion soothing and electric all at once. "I've been wondering," he said, his voice dropping lower, "if you'd let me take you somewhere tomorrow. Just the two of us."

My pulse quickened. "Where?"

"That is a secret” He spoke, smirk on his lips.

"Secret?" I echoed, leaning forward slightly, drawn by the warmth in his eyes. "Is this a date?"

Miles's lips curved into a gentle smile. "If you want it to be."

The invitation hung between us, delicate but charged with possibility.

I thought about the way Christopher had kissed me in the kitchen, how Julian had looked at me with such intensity afterward.

How different would it be with Miles? The quiet one, the observer, the man whose words always seemed to carry more weight than they should.

"I'd like that," I said softly. "A date sounds... nice."

"Nice?" Miles raised an eyebrow, amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. "I was hoping for something a bit more enthusiastic than 'nice.'"

I laughed, the sound bubbling up unexpectedly. "Alright, then. A date sounds wonderful.”

Miles's smile widened, transforming his face in a way that made my heart skip. "Much better." He brought our joined hands up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles that sent warmth spiraling up my arm. "I'll pick you up at ten."

"That's very mysterious," I said, though I couldn't keep the anticipation out of my voice. "Should I dress for anything specific?"

"Comfortable," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "And maybe bring a jacket. We might be outside for a while."

Before I could ask more questions, he was leaning closer, his free hand coming up to cup my cheek. The gesture was achingly gentle, his thumb brushing across my skin with reverent care.

"May I kiss you, Lili?" he asked, the nickname rolling off his tongue like honey.

Instead of answering with words, I closed the distance between us, my lips finding his with a boldness that surprised us both.

Miles's intake of breath was sharp against my mouth before he melted into the kiss, his hand sliding into my hair to cradle the back of my head.

His mouth moved against mine with careful deliberation.

I found myself sinking deeper into the nest, pulling him with me until we were lying side by side, faces inches apart.

Miles's hand traced the line of my jaw, his touch feather-light but leaving trails of fire in its wake.

"Lili," he breathed against my mouth, my nickname a prayer on his lips. His forehead rested against mine as we both struggled to catch our breath. “You really know how to test my control.”

"Maybe I want to test it," I whispered back, my fingers tracing the strong line of his jaw. The admission surprised me—where had this boldness come from? But something about Miles brought out a confidence I hadn't known existed.

His eyes darkened, pupils dilating as he searched my face. "Careful what you wish for," he murmured, his voice rough with restraint. "I'm not as gentle as I appear."

The warning sent a thrill through me rather than fear. "Show me," I challenged softly, my hand sliding down to rest against his chest where his heart hammered beneath my palm.

Miles groaned, the sound vibrating through his chest. "Lili, you have no idea what you're asking for."

"Then teach me," I said, echoing Christopher's earlier words about cooking. "I'm tired of not knowing things, of being sheltered from experiences."

Something shifted in Miles's expression—the careful restraint giving way to something hungrier, more primal. His hand tightened in my hair as he rolled us gently until I was beneath him, his weight braced on his forearms.

"Are you sure?" he asked one more time, his voice strained. "Because once I start touching you properly, I won't want to stop."

My answer was to pull his mouth back down to mine, kissing him with all the pent-up desire and curiosity that had been building inside me. Miles surrendered to it with a soft curse against my lips, his careful control finally snapping.

His hands roamed my body with reverent hunger, mapping every curve through the soft fabric of my clothes. When his lips left mine to trail down my throat, I arched beneath him, a soft gasp escaping me at the sensation of his teeth grazing my pulse point.

"So responsive," he murmured against my skin, his voice filled with wonder. "Do you know how incredible you are?"

I couldn't form words, could only thread my fingers through his damp hair as he continued his exploration. Miles took his time, worshipping every inch of exposed skin with lips and tongue until I was trembling beneath him.

"Miles," I gasped, his name falling from my lips like a plea.

"I know, sweetheart, I'm here," he whispered against my collarbone, his breath warm and unsteady. "Tell me what you need."

"I don't know," I admitted, my voice breaking slightly. "I just know I need more of you."

Miles lifted his head to look at me, his green eyes searching my face with an intensity that made my heart race. "We have all the time in the world," he said softly. "There's no rush, no pressure. Just us."

The reassurance in his voice calmed something wild inside me. This wasn't like with Julian—desperate and consuming—or with Christopher—playful and spontaneous. Miles offered something different. Something patient and steady, like the gentle persistence of water shaping stone.

"Just us," I echoed, my fingers tracing the curve of his cheek. "I like that."

He smiled, the expression transforming his face. "So do I." His thumb brushed across my lower lip, the touch reverent. "May I stay with you for a while? We don't have to do anything else. I'd just like to be near you."

The request surprised me. It wasn't what I'd expected, but it filled me with warmth that had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with belonging.

"Please stay," I whispered.

Miles shifted, gathering me against his chest as he settled more comfortably in my nest. His arms cradled me with surprising tenderness, one hand stroking slow patterns along my spine.

"This is nice," I murmured against his chest, breathing in his scent as I felt my body relax more as I did so.

Miles chuckled, the sound rumbling beneath my ear. "Back to 'nice' again, are we?"

"Perfect, then," I amended, smiling against his shirt. "Is that better?"

"Much." His lips pressed against my temple as I let myself drift off feeling completely safe and loved.