“Rhett did?” Miles asks.
“Who else have I been talking about?”
“I’m just surprised.” Miles stands on the other side of our bed and mulls over the information. “Are you worried?”
“I don’t know,” I say, my tone terse. “He didn’t have anything of substance, but he looked like he enjoyed the challenge of trying.”
“If you think he’s going to discover something, we should act. Leave, or hide any evidence you’re afraid of him finding.”
“It’s too early to say.” After a moment of remembering his smug face, I get heated all over again. “And I hate the way he looks at you. A piece of me thinks he wants to fuck with me just so he can have you to himself.”
Miles laughs aloud as he walks over to our bedroom window. I glare, which only gets him laughing harder. “Are you serious?” he asks when I don’t join in on his mirth. “Rhett isn’t like that. He’s my academy instructor. He’s a stand-up and proper kinda guy. I don’t even think he’s into men.”
I huff. “He’s definitely into men.”
With another chuckle, Miles pulls back the curtain and scopes out the backyard. The girls set up their tent right under our window—Miles’s idea—so that, if anything happened, we would be close enough to deal with it. The only thing I hear is their squealing and laughing. The wall is thick enough to drown out speech, but not the shrill delight of preteen girls.
“Are you jealous?” he asks after he shuts the curtain.
“You’re mine,” I state as I rip off my belt and throw it to the floor. “And he knows it. That’s the part that gets me pissed. He either thinks I’m not good enough, or he’s so much better that he can take you from me.”
“I seriously doubt he thinks like that. I’m telling you, he’s a good guy. I thought you guys would be fast friends, to be honest. You’re similar in a lot of ways.”
“We’re nothing alike,” I growl.
With barely restrained rage, I yank off my slacks and boxers and get into the cool sheets of our bed. My breathing comes out in forced bursts—anger comes faster and faster these days—and I find myself craving a cigarette.
“Is there anything you want me to do?” Miles asks as he sheds his shirt.
“Stay away from him.”
“I’ll try.”
“Tsk.”
Shifting gears, Miles says, “Thank you for saying yes to Lacy’s camping trip. She looks like she’s having fun for once. My mom doesn’t let her do things like this.”
“Whatever. Thank the other girl—Shannon. It was her idea.”
“Still. You approved. It meant a lot. I think Lacy even likes you a little now.”
“Fantastic.”
Miles finishes stripping and slides into bed next to me. He switches off the lamp, but the dim blue glow of our digital clock keeps the room more illuminated than I like. Miles says blue light helps put people at ease, or some shit like that, but I prefer the cold comfort of darkness. Reality is whatever you imagine it to be while wraps in shadows.
“Maybe you should consider getting colored contacts,” Miles says. “If you’re worried about people identifying you because of your eye.”
“Fine,” I snap as I roll onto my stomach and grip my pillow. I don’t want to talk about this—I don’t even want to imagine the police discovering my true identity.
Miles shifts across the bed and gets right up next to me. I feel his hot breath on my shoulder blade as he gently kisses my back. “No matter what happens,” he whispers, “I got your back. You know that, right?”
I know he’s trying to calm me down. I take a deep breath. “Yeah,” I mutter.
He doesn’t say anything else. Instead, Miles sits up and swings a leg over my back, straddling me. He proceeds to knead my spine with his knuckles, easing my tension, and I take in even breaths while he works.
“I want to know more about your past, Pierce,” he whispers. “There’s a lot you haven’t told me.”
“What is it you want to know?”
He thinks over his questions before asking, “Have you ever told someone you love them?”
“No.”
“How many men have you been with?”
“Twenty.”
“Twenty?” Miles repeats, surprise in voice.
“There a problem with that?” I ask, glancing back at him. The dim lighting highlights the edges of his body—the curves of muscle and the ends of his black locks. A slow burn of lust gets my blood flowing. I try not to think about it, so I focus on his questions, but the stiff mattress rubs me anytime I shift positions.
“Nothing wrong with that,” Miles finally says. “I just didn’t think it was that many.” He continues massaging my back. “Have you ever been with any women?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“Two.”
“I take it… you didn’t enjoy those that much?”
“I was young,” I state. “It’s what I thought I was supposed to do. They never matched up to my times with men, though. And after a while, even the thought of them suckin’ me did nothing.”
“Tell me about your first time. With a man.”
I close my eyes and allow the heat from his body to burn away the last of my anger. My memories from two decades ago aren’t that fresh, but a man doesn’t forget a first-time sexual experience. I smirk. “It was with this guy named Desmond.”
Miles stays quiet.
“He was an enforcer for Big Man Vice, and I was supposed to shadow him to learn the ropes. The guy was a horndog, though. We’d frequently hit all the local nightclubs while we worked. He was also into some darker shit—he liked power plays, really. Stuff where he did whatever he wanted, regardless of what his partner felt about the matter.”
“How old were you?”
“Sixteen. Maybe seventeen.”
“What happened? Specifically.”
“He had been drinking most of the night,” I murmur, picturing it all in my head like it happened yesterday. “We were out playing guard, so Desmond hadn’t been to his usual stops. When we got back to his place, he started manhandling me pretty rough. I
