And now I can.
After one final shot for courage, I grabbed my phone, ordered myself an Uber, and punched in Miles’s address. In the five minutes I had before the car arrived, I used the bathroom, changed from my usual plain underwear into something with lace, and brushed my teeth. What I didn’t do was think too hard about the actual act of seduction.
Whatever. I’d wing it.
My stomach was jumping with nerves, so I took one more swallow of vodka, grimacing as it burned its way down my esophagus. When I saw headlights in the driveway, I bolted out the door, pulling it shut behind me. The booze hit me as I hurried toward the car, but I managed to stay on two feet and get myself into the back seat.
On the ride to Miles’s, I texted him.
Hey are you home?
The reply came immediately. Yes. Writing tonight. What’s up?
Yay! I’m coming over!!!
Should I put on the gimp suit?
I snorted. That’s funny you’re funny I like you.
WTF are you drunk?
Cackling with glee, I tossed my phone back in my purse. Miles was hilarious. And cute and smart and sweet and he did have a thing for me, didn’t he? He wanted me, right? And when he saw me in my underwear, he wouldn’t be able to resist me. Not like Dan. “Asshole,” I muttered, right before another hiccup.
“I’m sorry?” said my driver.
“Nothing.” Dang it, weren’t we there yet? I was coming out of my skin with excitement, bouncing around in the backseat like a puppy. This was the best plan ever!
Finally, the big old house came into view, and my heart beat quicker when I saw the light on in Miles’s bedroom window and the living room. “Thanks,” I yelled, jumping out of the car before it even came to a complete stop. I ran up the front steps and banged on the big wooden door. Miles pulled it open, and before he could say anything, I lunged for him, smashing my mouth against his and throwing my arms around his neck.
I knocked him backward about five feet, his heels hit the bottom step of the staircase, and he went down on his ass. I ended up straddling him, one knee on either side of his legs, which I thought was perfect. Congratulating myself on the excellent choreography, I wiggled my hips a little.
“Natalie…what the hell?” Miles tried to pry my face off his. His glasses had been knocked askew, but he looked absolutely delicious. His hair was messier than usual, and he hadn’t shaved in a few days, so his scruff was more like a beard. Dan was always clean-shaven, so kissing Miles felt totally different and thrilling. I’m kissing Miles! Finally! Nine years of suppressed desire bubbled to the surface.
“I want you to fuck me, Miles,” I breathed, right before a hiccup. “And you want to.”
“What?” His voice cracked, and he adjusted his glasses. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, crazypants, what is this?”
“This is fire.” I planted sloppy, drunken kisses across his face. “Hey, your beard is softer than I spected. Ex-spested. Expected.” I rubbed my face on his jaw.
Miles laughed uneasily, pressing me back by the shoulders. “What have you been drinking tonight, Jezebel?”
“Wine. And vodka.” Biting my lip, I reached beneath his t-shirt and ran my hands up his sides. “Take this off. I wanna see you naked.”
“Oh, Jesus.” He grabbed my wrists and held them away from his body. “What is with you? Where’s Dan?”
I pouted. “I don’t want to talk about that asshole.”
“Why?”
“Because. He doesn’t want to have sex with me.”
Miles looked incredulous. “He doesn’t?”
“No. But you do. You’re always talking about it.” I tried to lean over and kiss him again, but he held me off, so I bounced on him a little, riding him like a kid on a merry-go-round pony.
“For fuck’s sake, Natalie, will you stop it? Just wait a second.” Somehow, he got to his feet and set me on mine, then went behind me to shut the front door, which was still wide open. When he paused with his hand on the handle, probably trying to gather his wits, I launched myself at his back, wrapping my arms and legs around him. Burying my face in the crook of his neck, I inhaled deeply.
“Mmm. You smell so good.” I licked him below the ear. “You taste good too.”
He groaned, grabbing me beneath the knees so I didn’t slide off, and walked into the dark living room. In front of a long, floral-upholstered couch, he turned around and sat down, trying to deposit me on it. “Get off.”
“No.” I clung even tighter. “Are we going to do it on your mother’s expensive couch? I don’t think she’d like that.”
“No, we are not.”
“So take me to your bed. Blindfold me. Tie me up. Fuck me!”