Episode 47: Crisp Shots
6:11 a.m.
Sugar’s internal clock roused her, but she fought hard against it, moaning softly in protest and snuggling her cheek deeper into her pillow. Except...her pillow was oddly warm, felt more like flesh than her 5,000-thread count magenta-hued pillowcase, and was lightly covered in hair.
Chest hair, to be exact.
Her eyelids snapped open in a groggy haze, and she lifted her head just enough to see Miles’s slumbering face.
The corners of her lips twitched into a faint smile as she quietly observed him, soaking in every detail of his bearded face as if seeing him for the first time. Her mind began analyzing. Cataloging every perfection and every flaw that was perfect in its own way.
Carefully, she raised a hand and gently traced the strong slope of his nose with her index finger before hovering over his lips, too shy to touch them. Instead, her mind conjured a montage of every time those lips had claimed hers, sending a chain reaction of goosebumps over her brown skin and heat pulsing through her veins.
“I ain’t gonna bite,” Miles mumbled, a sleepy grin tugging at his lips.
His eyes were still closed, making her wonder just how long he’d been awake.
“My gut is telling me you’re lying,” she replied, her own smile spreading wide.
His grin widened a smidge. “I would never.”
Taking his word, she lightly ran her fingertip over the crease of his lips...until Miles suddenly bared his teeth, growled like a wild dog, and lunged forward to nip at her.
Sugar yanked her hand back with a startled laugh, giggling madly. “Miles!”
She slapped his cheek playfully as he flopped his head back against the pillow, looking smug and satisfied.
“What happened to ‘I would never’?” she asked, mocking his deep Southern drawl.
He winked. “I can be a hell of a liar.”
“Keep it up, and Hell is exactly where you’ll end up,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“I’ve already had a taste of heaven,” he returned. “I’ll take my fall to eternal damnation with grace.”
“And what exactly is your definition of ‘a slice of heaven,’ Miles?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Bein’ with you,” he said without hesitation.
She rolled her eyes and huffed out a laugh. “That’s the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard.”
It was. And yet, it made Sugar feel warm and gooey, like melting cheese. God, she hated how he made her feel. How he only had to talk to her to send her heart racing like a schoolgirl catching the eye of her crush.
It made her feel pathetic.
Desperate.
Starved for masculine attention.
Starved for his attention.
Her phone chimed from the nightstand. She leaned over Miles on all fours to grab it, ignoring the pleased rumble he let out from deep in his chest.
A message from Odette.
Ettie: Breakfast is pushed back to 10:00.
Ettie: Helena has a hangover and I gotta revive this chick with electrolytes and shit, but I really want to electrocute her. 😤
Sugar exhaled through her nose, equal parts relieved and exasperated. The extra hour was a gift, but she still wasn’t ready for the interrogation her sisters would launch into over her Friday night with Miles.
She set the phone down and started to move back to her spot, but Miles rested his hand on the back of her bare thighs.
“Slow your row, darlin’.”
“Am I hurting you?”
“Only my feelings if you won’t let me admire what I’ve got sprawled across my chest like a goddamn Christmas gift.”
Sugar looked over her shoulder in confusion until she realized he was referring to her plum panties-clad ass draped right over him.
She rolled her eyes and shook her head, fighting a smile. “This is one Christmas gift you won’t be opening anytime soon.”
His hand slid up her thighs, slipping a finger past the edge of her panties and snapping the elastic against her cheek. Shivers rattled through her.
“Don’t be so sure, honey,” he murmured as his palm smoothed over her backside in a slow, appreciative caress. She closed her eyes, savoring the sensation, craving his touch more than she cared to admit.
“Gimme your phone,” he said.
“Why?”
“I wanna take a picture.”
Sugar’s heartbeat sputtered, her eyes widening. “Beg your pardon?”
“I’m takin’ you up on your offer,” Miles said. “Now, gimme your phone.”
She gasped when he smacked her ass, the goodness she felt shooting straight to the spot between her thighs.
Shooting him a look over her shoulder, she found him grinning, his wink making her blush. Slowly, hesitantly, she retrieved the phone and crawled off him, handing it over.
To block the snapshot opportunity, she curled back beside him.
He accepted her bashful refusal with grace, thumb tapping the camera app. Sitting up and leaning against her pillows and headboard, he aimed the phone’s rear camera at her face.
The shutter clicked.
“Perfect,” he murmured, eyes glued to the screen.
Sugar snorted. “Very far from it.”
He tilted the phone aside and studied her face. “Then I guess I’ll have to gather photographic evidence to prove otherwise.”
“I think one picture’s enough, Miles.”
She reached to reclaim her phone, but he playfully dodged her grasp.
“And I think one picture is just the beginnin’.”
Sugar gave him a look, arms crossed, and flopped her head to the side with slight irritation. The truth was, Miles with a camera was dangerous because pictures never lied. Even though last night they shared parts of themselves they hid from the rest of the world, him with a camera made her feel even more vulnerable.
Bare.
Raw.
Exposed.
“Aw, come on, honey. Don’t be like that.” Miles chuckled softly, leaning down to kiss her temple. “Let me take a few before you kick me outta your bed.”
“Do I have the option of kicking you out early?” she muttered, brushing his face away and yanking the sheet over her head.
Immediately after, she felt the weight of the bed shift as he climbed off.
Panic hit her hard.
Did she push him too far? Did she piss the fuck him off?
Words caught in her throat. But before she could speak, the sheet was suddenly yanked back from the foot of the bed.
Sugar stared down at her now-exposed feet.
“What are you doing?” she asked, baffled.
“Taking a picture, darlin’,” Miles said matter-of-factly.
