I can’t blame him for the misstep. After six months of living together, he doesn’t know about my past. I never answer his prodding questions, yet he’s learned how to steer around my triggers. Mostly.
“Are you okay?” He grips my bare shoulders and slides his hands down my arms, circling his thumbs along the swirls of colorful tattoos.
I nod, watching him trace the inked murals of sunsets and horses. It took the tattoo artist a year to transform my arms into the impressionist paintings I collected as a child.
I never went back to the field party after that night. Never sought out sex again.
My science professor sought me out. Initially, Miles was enamored by my academic records. Then he met me, and his interest evolved into something entirely different.
He pursued me for a year before I had sex with him. By then, he was no longer my professor and well, he was really persistent. He convinced me to move into his house six months ago, and here we are, all cozy and domestic-like.
And monogamous. Or so I thought.
“Who was the brunette in your classroom?”
“The brunette?” His eyebrows gather. “There’s probably twenty brunettes in my—”
“Don’t fuck with me, Miles.” Turning back to the closet, I pull a travel bag from the top shelf. “I stopped by after your class today.”
His footsteps pace through the room behind me. Then pause.
“Kendra Forde.” He sighs her name.
I lean against the doorframe as he perches on the bed and loosens his tie.
He looks like Clark Kent in that suit. The buttoned-up collar, slightly wavy black hair, pale blue eyes, and mild-manner demeanor, he has the whole tall, dark, and handsome nerd thing going on.
Since he spends most of his time in a classroom, he doesn’t have much in the way of muscle. Not even close to Jake’s sturdy build. But he keeps himself fit.
“She’s been after me for months.” He slouches forward, elbows on his knees. “I told her I’m not interested, Conor.”
Every vagina on campus wants to ride Miles York. With his irresistible charm, brainy good-looks, and authoritative voice behind the podium, why wouldn’t they?
“So what you’re saying is…” I cross my arms. “You turned her down by putting your hand under her skirt?”
A muscle twitches in his jaw, and he lifts his gaze to mine, pinning me with a hard stare. “It was a weak moment. And wrong. I realized the lapse in judgment immediately and sent her away.”
My mind swims as I open the travel bag and begin to pack. I want to berate him for his lapse in judgment, but who am I to cast stones? I’m made entirely of damaged pieces, stitched together with irreparable flaws.
What kind of person can’t have her wrists touched? I’m so much more fucked up than a simple lapse in judgment.
“What are you doing?” Miles jumps from the bed and grabs the bag from my grip.
I snatch it back. “I’m leaving.”
“Jesus, fuck.” He rakes a hand through his perfect hair, messing it up. “Kendra stopped by only minutes ago. Not enough time for anything to happen. Stop this!” His voice rises, eyes flinty. “You’re not leaving.”
“I’m going back home.” I stuff clothes into the bag. “Just for a couple of weeks.”
To murder Levi Tibbs.
I know I’m taking advantage of the situation. I need a reason to be mad at Miles so I don’t have to lie to him about why I’m leaving. I should feel bad about the distraught way he watches me pack, but feelings are tricky. If I give them an inch, they swallow me whole.
“I wouldn’t cheat on you, Conor.” He follows me through the room, pulling at his collar. “I mean, look at you. You’re the hottest damn woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. Do you see the way men stare at you? Like they’re waiting for you to turn your head, to give them the tiniest hint of interest?”
I zip up the bag and face him. “What are you saying?”
“I’m lucky.” He steps into my space and rests his hands on my hips, his mouth hovering. “I’m so fucking lucky to be the one you want. I wouldn’t throw that away.”
Except the one I want did throw me away.
And now I’m going home to honor the pact I made with him. I’ll have to see him, talk to him, and be reminded of the life I can’t have.
“I love you,” Miles breathes against my mouth.
He says it every day, and I never say it back.
He doesn’t demand anything from me. Doesn’t try to fix me. Aside from the weak moment with Kendra Forde, Miles is a steady, reliable, pain-free improvement in my life.
He’s a great reason for me to stay away from Jake Holsten.
“I should only be gone for a week or two.” I step back and sling the bag over my shoulder.